𝕸𝖎 𝕯𝖚𝖑𝖈𝖊

check out ‘dangerous liaisons’ ✨

[losolvidad0s]

*indicates smut (18+)

Obispo “Bishop” Losa:

Songbird*

It’s Not Over

Miguel Galindo:

Despiadado

Angel Reyes:

Culebra

Dangerous Liaisons Masterlist

[50shadesofrossi]

Accusations and Apologies

Bishop Losa x Female Reader

Summary: You’re Miguel Galindo’s bookkeeper, who finds out that someone has been skimming. You know only one person that is stupid yet bold enough to try piss off the Cartel

Warnings: swearing, smut [m. receiving]

A/N: I haven’t written anything smutty for quite some time, so I do apologise if it seems rushed

Betrayal, that's all you feel in this moment, hurt and anger be damned. You can't believe you allowed yourself to lower your guard, to allow for this situation to happen. It makes you wonder if it's the only reason you met in the first place, like this was his only play; lure you in and push the possibility of him doing anything like this, to the back of your mind. 

Well, it worked, for a short time at least. For the past couple of months, you never even suspected an issue with the books, not a single thing out of place. Until you were transferring the details over to the laptop, and the numbers suddenly didn't make sense. 

Now here you sit, head resting in your palm and the other bringing the cigarette to your lips, the smoke billowing into the room as you patiently wait for the man in question. It made sense at the time to situate yourself in his El Presidente chair at the head of the table, a perfect view from the door. 

When you first added up all the missing figures, Nestor had been with you, double-checking you weren't losing your mind. You weren't. Someone had managed to skim over half a million off of Miguel Galindo's heroin trade. Nestor was there when you pieced together who the only bold, yet stupid enough person to try to pull this shit off is.

Bishop Losa, and his little band of hoons. 

Nestor agreed to keep quiet as you figure this out, giving you the time to gather enough intel before presenting it to Miguel. Oh, how he's going to have a field day, having been the first one to tell you not to get into bed with the Mayans, especially the President. More so, the fact that you allowed the man to pull one over you and ultimately fuck you up.

You're not sure what hurts more, the fact that he was doing so behind your back or the possibility of why you two got involved in the first place. You don't necessarily have a relationship, only using each other's bodies after a stressful day. 

But it still doesn't change the fact that you feel used.

The door to Templo slides open, distant voices filtering in. For a moment no one notices you, too caught up in the previous events until one of them halts. "Who the fuck are you?" He reaches for his gun, alerting all the men of the sudden threat lounging in their President's seat. 

You don't particularly remember any of them, having briefly come in contact with the Mayans at one of the exchanges for the books-detailing the weight of the keys, how many went out and how much was paid for-and the money. Usually, that is Devante's job, but sometimes he can't always make it. 

The small gathering parts, the man you're waiting ever so patiently to see, steps down the last step. "The fuck are you doing here?" He sneers, dark eyes glaring holes through your figure. Suppose, you sitting in his chair is quite the insult.

You lick your lips, taking a moment to carefully choose your words. "What is it that you call me?" You click your fingers, feigning to remember the little nickname he has for you. 

"Number's girl," he steps forward, playing into your hands.

"That's it, number's girl." You inhale another puff of smoke, blowing it in his general direction. "Is that because I can calculate so quickly in my head or because I remember almost every figure on a day to day basis?"

Bishop releases a breath of irritation, "why are you here?" 

You flicker behind him, "call off your guard dogs and I'll tell you." 

He glances at his Vice Presidente, signalling his boys to leave the room. You smirk at the hesitancy before they oblige and clear out, though you don't miss the glint in their eyes. Once the door slides shut, you sit up, putting the bud out. 

"You know what I did today? I transferred all of last year's records into a computer, for our backup, and suddenly the figures weren't adding up." You see Bishop tilt his head with apprehension. "So I went back a few years and everything matched, but not last year. For the life of me, I couldn't understand, until Nestor connected the dots; someone has been taking a small piece out of every shipment, bit by bit. Do you know how much they've taken?" 

Confusion swirls in his eyes at your meaning, his body now moving to lean against the table in front of you. "How much?" 

"Nearly a quarter of a million." 

He lets out a low whistle, shifting his position to fold his arms. "So why are you telling me?" He holds your gaze, searching you for answers. 

You pause, your heart hammering against your chest and your nerves spiking in anticipation of the next few seconds. You know it's about to be a screaming fest, how hot-headed he is, especially when accused of something, whether it's true or not. It's the one thing you hate, getting into an argument.

You're more of a cruisey person, relaxed and generally getting along with almost everyone, and your arguments tend to get ugly.

Inhaling deeply, you lean forward, resting your elbows on the table and focusing on the gavel before you. "I need you to tell me right now, if you had anything to do with this-"

Bishop pushes off the table, anger written on his face as he paces. "Are you fucking serious right now?" You reluctantly turn to face him, your stomach twisting at the look he gives you. "Are you fucking accusing me? Is this what this is? You've come to find out if I stole from Mr Galindo," 

"You're a third party, Bishop, I have to ask." You stand slowly, not exactly wanting to get any closer to him but not wanting to have yourself exposed.

"Fuck you!" He shouts, the room falling silent. 

His brothers grow weary, trying to figure out why their President is yelling. Not to mention, who you are.

You run your hands down your face, a sense of dread settling in as Bishop tries to gain control of his breathing. "I am his bookkeeper, Bishop, the only person who handles the books on this side of the world, I have to ask this question." You spare a glance at him. "You have to understand, I didn't catch this, I've fucked up and what's worse, is there's a possibility that the man I've been sleeping with is responsible." 

"The fuck did you just say?" He seethes, stepping forward. 

You hold your ground, refusing to look away. "You heard me." He stops right in front of you, his cologne wrapping around you. Normally you would bury your nose into his chest, inhaling the smell, but right now that's the furthest thing from your mind. 

"A thousand dollars goes missing and suddenly a month later we're fucking around, and as each shipment goes, more goes missing, in bigger amounts-" Bishop grabs the back of your neck, his breath fanning your cheeks. Your skin flushes at the proximity and you curse at the way your body responds to him. 

"Do you hear yourself?" He says lowly. 

"Don't tell me you wouldn't ask the same thing if the roles were reversed." You catch yourself glancing down at his lips, a force of habit you would argue in this situation. You can almost feel his moustache against you, his stubble. "Bishop," you say pleadingly. "I need to know. I'm already fucked, don't put me in a grave." 

"You aren't going anywhere," he grits. "He can't hurt you, I won't let him." 

"You can't see the future Bishop, so don't try." 

Somewhere, deep down, you knew it wasn't him. But it would make sense if it was, shit added up too easily. Bishop leans in slightly, giving you time to remove yourself if you wanted, but you don't. You haven't seen him in almost a week, and there's still some tension left within your muscles that needs out. 

His lips crash against yours in a searing kiss, his fingers tightening along the sides of your neck.  You grip onto his kutte, pulling yourself flush to his chest as you give in to his advances, your lungs constricting from the lack of oxygen. 

His hands begin to wander down your sides, the gentleness stark in comparison to the bad they've done, coming to rest under your thighs for a heartbeat before he hoists you onto the table. 

Your lips part, your chest heaving. This isn't how you thought this would end, maybe some more yelling and then you'd leave and everything would go haywire. But not this, fucking on his sacred club table. 

Bishop steps between your legs, instantly grazing your jaw and down your neck in tender yet hungry kisses. Your fingers thread through his short curls, slightly tugging at the ends and earning yourself a low groan. 

You smirk, yelping in shock at the hard nip on your shoulder. 

The loud ringing echoes in the room, causing the both of you to pause. Instinctively you assume it's Bishop's, but he slides your phone out of your back pocket and hands it to you with a sigh. You don't want to answer it, to have to deal with the problem just yet. 

"Nestor?" You answer.

"You're needed over here at the church pew, I'm sending someone to pick you up." Your body goes rigid, Bishop narrowing his eyes at your frozen behaviour. 

"Okay, I'll see you soon." You slowly put the phone down, "fuck." 

"What is it?" Bishop asks, his hands rubbing along your thighs in concern. 

You meet his eye, fear sprouting. "He wants me at the church pew."

-

You sit in the car for a minute later, still trying to come to terms with the past four hours. It wasn't Bishop and the Mayans who stole, it was Devante, trying to teach Miguel a lesson and frame it on Bishop.

It backfired, and it's given Miguel more of a reason to distrust the man. 

As for you, Miguel never expected you to know the exact amounts of each shipment, wanting you more specifically to make everything look legal and in order should anyone other than him go snooping. 

Going forward, you will know how much is paid for. 

You can't yet move your body to exit the vehicle, stuck sitting in the driver's seat, hearing the loud music and obvious party sounds. You're half tempted to turn around and go home, to speak with Bishop another day, but you want to put this behind you, to forget everything it's put you through and apologise for accusing him of such a lucrative scheme. 

Exhaling deeply, you slide out of the car, your shoes hitting the gravel and alerting your presence as you approach the gate. A few of the Mayans lounge outside by the fires, women laying on their laps or hanging close with drinks. 

You don't miss the stares, as you stand completely out with your work clothes and slight anxious stance. 

"You're not welcome here," a tattooed figure blocks your way up the stairs. 

You halt, meeting his eyes. For a heartbeat, you almost turn tail, feeling nervous from the countless glares of the boys that have joined their brother's side. It's intimidating, but not as intimidating as working for a drug cartel. 

"Too bad you don't get to make that decision." You climb the stairs, coming face to face with the man. 

"Coco," his name is called, shifting everyone's attention to the burly man by the front door. "Let her through." 

Coco reluctantly listens, stepping aside for you to move past, his eyes following your every move. You roll your shoulders back, releasing the tension. You weren't about to go head to head with the Mayan, but you don't back down easily. 

"Sorry about him, they're a little tense at the moment." The man tries to change the mood, pushing the door further open for you. "Bishop told us, why you came earlier. In case we had to prepare ourselves," 

You nod in understanding, scanning the crowded room for the man in question. "That's why I'm here," 

"He's over there." 

You follow the man toward a table in the back, your eyes darting everywhere to take in the scene; men playing a game of pool with women hanging off them, some making out in dark corners whilst others not caring and doing it surrounded by brothers.

You come to a stop, Bishop instantly stopping his conversation. Before either of you can say anything, Taza comes to a stand, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek as he hugs you. "Hello sweetheart, are you alright?" He asks. 

"Hi Taza, yeah I'm alright." You've met Taza during the many times you've spent at Bishop's, often making him a little late some mornings and resulting in his second having to come get him. 

"So, should I be preparing my boys for war?" Bishop cuts in, nursing his beer. 

"No," you shake your head. "It was Devante, turns out he was trying to set you guys up. He doesn't like the idea of a cartel and criminal outlaws mixing." 

Everyone around the table laughs, relief falling from their bodies at the news. They can relax tonight. Bishop continues to look at you, tilting his head slightly. "Is that all you came for?"

Licking your lips, "yeah, you gentlemen enjoy your night." They hold up their beers in gratification before turning back to continue their conversation. As you turn to leave, Bishop stands, quickly rounding the table to press a hand along your backside.

"Let me walk you out." 

You glance sideways at him, raising a brow. "I'm capable of walking myself to my car."

"You're not leaving just yet," he opens the door, waiting for you to pass before following you down the stairs and out the gate. You swallow, allowing him to guide you past your car and toward the front office. "You really think you can come here and leave without an apology?"

You open your mouth to scoff, knowing you did want to apologise but you didn't owe it to him. Bishop unlocks the office door, almost shoving you in. "I could have apologised at my car," you start, blinking furiously at the sudden light turning on. 

"That's not the apology I want." 

You knew what he meant, smirking at him. "Come get it then," you tease, a shiver rolling down your spine at the calculated steps he takes in your direction. 

He stops, his chest brushing your own and his cigarette and whisky breath caressing your cheeks in close proximity, his dark eyes tracing patterns over your face. It's almost like he takes a moment to remember how angelic you look, before he intends to ruin you. 

In a flash, his hand wraps around the top of your neck, his thumb digging under your jaw to pull you to him, his lips crashing down. You whimper under his harsh kiss, your body surrendering but your mind ready to take control. 

You walk him back, a grunt escaping him as his back hits the wall. A sly grin spreads across your face, your hands coming to rest on his chest as you pull apart. Your palms slide down his kutte, stopping at his belt buckle to easily pop it open, not once breaking eye contact. 

His hand leaves your neck, cupping the side of your jaw with his thumb brushing across your lips. You know what he wants, opening your mouth to take his thumb, flattening your tongue as he pulls it out. 

You sink to your knees, internally cringing at the uncomfortableness of the hard floor. You make quick work of slipping his cock out

He sucks in a deep breath at the contact of you wrapping around him, his lips parting as he watches you. You tease him, licking the precum off the head. "Don't," he warns, his hand coming to rest on your head, a warning tug on the roots of your hair. "Be a brat." 

Feeling snarky, you take as much of him as you can fit into your mouth, running your tongue along the underside as you release him. "This is an apology, you take what you're given." 

A fiery rage ignited in his eyes, his jaw clenching together as he fights to control himself. You know you're about to pay for that later, but right now, he's at your mercy. 

You take him again, relaxing your throat to allow the head to slip down just a bit, your gag reflex almost non-existent. Bishop's fingers flex, his head leaning on the wall in response to your ministrations, your tongue working around his cock. 

He hasn't had a release in a week, the slightest touch being enough to finish him off; sadly. Suppose, it's what happens once his body grows accustomed to you almost every night. Your jobs are both stressful in their own right, often demanding a little relaxation at the end of the day. 

"That's it, good girl," he praises once you settle into the rhythm you know he likes, slowly but surely pumping him. 

One hand pays attention to the little bit you can't fit in your mouth, the other holding onto the back of his thighs as his hips reflexively jut out. Quiet groans escape him, feeding your ego and coaxing you to finish him off in due time. You quite enjoy watching him fall apart. 

"Fuck," he mutters, revealing in the feel of your cheeks hollowing out and pushing more of him down your throat. 

You feel his tip twitch, signalling the end of his composure. You drag your lips over his cock as you move off him, before quickly taking him back in. Bishop grabs the back of your head, his hips rutting out. He face fucks you, his body moving with need and pleasure.

Tears spring from the corners of your eyes at the slight roughness, your lungs beginning to burn from lack of sufficient oxygen. You glance up at him, a half attempted smirk forming at his dazed state. Swirling your tongue around his head, you watch him completely crumble. 

He curses, his body shuddering and his cock pulsing as he cums. You swallow, wincing at the taste but getting it down nonetheless. Letting him fall out of your mouth, you wipe the corner of your lips as you stand, giving him a moment to readjust himself. 

Normally you're all for whatever happens next, but the thought of being taken against a desk is the last thing on your mind. You want a shower, food and some sleep. He can come fuck you once you've rested. 

"What happened today?" Bishop asks softly, reaching into his kutte for a cigarette. 

You lean against the edge of the table, shrugging your shoulders. "That's for me to know, and you to not worry about." You dodge, biting the inside of your cheek at the knowledge of him being unravelled only a minute ago. 

He frowns, knowing that clearly, something happened when you arrived at the church pew, but he knows not to push. The smoke wafts around the enclosed room, creating a slight barrier between the two of you. 

Holding the cigarette between two fingers, Bishop closes the distance, cupping your chin in a possessive manner. Typical alpha males. "Well, I accept your apology," he muses, smoke exhaling through his nose. "Go get some sleep, I'll see you later." 

You hum, exhaustion starting to seep into your body. He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, stark in comparison to the rough, dominating ones that bruise you. Pulling away, you lick your lips, moving past him to open the door and enter the cooler Santo Padre air.

[losolvidad0s]

I loved this! You move captured Bish well and I love boss attitude reader, also such a good mix 🙌🏽 nicely done!!

[losolvidad0s]

Can you tag me in the updates for Despiadado, M. Galindo? I really would love to continue reading it!!

Hi! Will do, thank you for reading 🤍 I appreciate the love!!

[losolvidad0s]

Despiadado, M. Galindo

Summary: When the truth of your relationship with Miguel comes to light, even more truths are revealed. 

warnings: toxic!family, meanie!You, twister 👀 

word count: 5.4K

a/n: Another installment to the “Reyes!Sister dating ___ and the brothers don’t like it.” It’s Not Over was dating Bishop + beef with Angel and this is with Miguel and troubles with Boy Scout. It’s been a minute! Szn 4 dropping next month!

(gif belongs to @thesewickedhands​ ✨)

“Just let me borrow a twenty, hermanita.” 

With how many times you’ve rolled your eyes tonight, they should be stuck. Your brother Angel always made your hair turn white even at your young age. Your other brother, Ezekiel, gives you both a look and shakes his head with his infamous grin. Without a complaint you pull out your wallet and hand him a jackson bill. 

It’s a date night out for your two brothers, EZ with his girlfriend Gabriela and Angel with his sudden fiance, Stephenie, also known as Nails. And you, with your… no one. Gaby insists that you join them and get out of the house since all you do is work. 

You are trailing behind the two couples when you get bored of feeling like the lost puppy. After telling them you’re gonna get a churro, you venture off to browse. You watch some teens attempt to master the ring toss and chuckle seeing them trying to cheat the system. It’s when you turn away to move along that you collide with a body. 

Their arms grab you in time before you can stumble over. “Tienes que tener cuidado.”

Miguel Galindo. 

He gives you a lopsided smile, releasing his grip on you. You swallow thickly and purse your lips, mumbling a quick and quiet thank you. To the crowd, it seemed two strangers  had little run in. And besides the obvious with who he is. 

But there lies more  between the two of you. A story that is just getting started. Your lips begin to twitch up into a smile but you are pulled back into reality when the ringing of a bell sounds in the distance.

You thank him again and step away, getting distance between the two of you. You join  your brothers and their dates once more, putting Miguel in the back of your mind. Though that doesn’t last very long until you are thinking of him again. 

There is no telling how it all came to be. 

Some might say it was like a lion watching a lamb. The stronger always preyed on the weak. But it wasn’t that at all. Despite the chaotic rumors and truths of the Galindo Cartel, unlike those who first meet him, you didn’t fall prey to the words of others. You gave him a chance to introduce and speak for himself.  

And suddenly, all you thought was him. All you dreamt of, both awake and asleep. Certain scents could trigger you to yearn for him. Melodies that put you in a trance because he would play them for you and get you under his spell. 

With the recent events involving the MC and the Galindo Cartel, your brothers being members…It's been quite the adjustment sneaking around. And Miguel was never the type to not have his way, he could care less about keeping what the two of you have as a little secret. Though you have quite a persuasive trait in you. 

“Did you have a good time?” Gaby asks you while heading to the parking lot, she loops her arm with yours and you smile in response. You notice Miguel standing near the end of the parked cars. Your brothers haven’t noticed but you can feel one of them will soon.

Your words can’t come out as you see Miguel begin to step towards you, your eyes widen as you shake your head. EZ and Gaby borrowed pops truck to give you a ride. Your word vomit coming out all at once, “I think I’m gonna wait for one of my friends to come. You two to go ahead. I’ll be good.”

“You sure? Give me a call if you need a ride.” Though your brother hesitates to leave your side until he sees this friend of yours, he waves to you before getting in the truck to drive off.

By the time you swivel on your heel, you are directly in Miguel's arms. “Estas loco?!” You smack his arm, his eyebrows raise as you huff and cross your arms over your chest. He can tell that you are frustrated, the heat nearly radiating off you. “Sí, yo soy...acerca de ti.”

His fingers grasp the loose strands of your hair that have fallen in front of your face, pushing them behind your ear. His fingers trace your jaw line. The breath that had built up in your lungs is exhaled slowly, your eyes fluttering closed as his touch electrifies you.  

Your arms uncross and you step forward to bury your face into his chest, his arms encasing you and large hands moving across the small of your back. Your scent has been one of the only things in this world to make him weak in his knees. He smiles as you roll your eyes, feeling the corners of your lips form a smile as well. 

After sharing a chaste kiss, you enjoy the carnival but this time as not a third wheel.

You often wonder how word of the Reyes girl fooling around with the Galindo cartel leader did not spread around town. It’s painstakingly questionable but you certainly did not question it.

After sending multiple texts back and forth with EZ that’d you spend the night with your friend, Miguel had escorted you back to his little piece of paradise. Away from the public's eye to which you could fully immerse yourself with him. 

And that you did. He wined and dined you til every strip of clothing dispersed around his bedroom floor. His excessively large bed had enough space to allow the two of you to roll around for hours on end.

His words and his hands. Sins directly forged from the devil himself. It’s no question why he is called El Diablo. And how you were capable of holding onto to something as wicked as he, it’s a question for a higher power, someday.

“And when will I be blessed with your presence again, hm?”  Miguel gazes at you as you’re sitting in a parked care near a curb, a few streets over from Felipe’s house. It’s one of the few things you asked of Miguel. To ensure your little rendezvous stays discreet especially from your father and brothers.

A smile curls on your lips, trying to hide but you can’t help it. Everything about him makes you feel like you’re floating. His hand on your thigh moves slowly and squeezes the exposed flesh. 

He tips his head as you look at him and  shrugs your shoulders, “I promised my father that I would be around the house more for lunches and dinners. I haven’t been lately seeing as nearly every weekend I get scooped up by you.”

The smile is on display now, your cheeks burning as you fail to keep it contained. You lean forward and press your lips to his, smiling into it and letting your hands feel his beard. You hold the kiss for a few seconds longer. It wouldn’t hurt, right?

Miguel's face remains stoic when you pull away, you try not to frown but to see him like so it creates an ache in your chest. You know that nothing in your situation is relationship goals and your incessant need to keep it a secret is even more. 

“I would like to see you soon, so whenever you aren’t tied down.” He says softly and nod in agreement though the words did leave a lasting impression. 

He initiates a farewell kiss and reaches over you to open your door. One of his guys opens it fully for you to get out and you look back to wave before the car takes off. You sigh and send a prayer to the universe to help you out with this. 

When you turn to head down the street, your feet cement themselves to the sidewalk. A few feet away from you stands EZ and Gaby. Your skin goes cold and the air in your lungs deflates almost entirely. 

Your mouth opens and only a squeak comes out. EZ is quiet but the vein prominent on his forehead speaks volumes, “Y/N, what are you doing coming out of Galindo’s car? What did you do?”

EZ steps forward and you step back. He continues to stride over near you and you stammer on your words, his hands reach to grasp onto you but you completely panic and burst out in a sprint.

You don’t dare to look back and the nostalgia of being young hits you again. When you would run from your brothers with the secrets that could have them grounded for months. They’d chase you til you’re tackled on the ground and threats spat back at you.

But you were kids then and now, the stamina that EZ has accumulated from prison and being in the MC has you beat. When you peer back once Felipe’s house is in sight, EZ is dead on your tracks. 

“Okay, okay, stop it!” You come to a halt and hold your arms out in front of you to brace yourself for impact against the mountain of man brother of yours. He collides with you but holds you two steady. You break free from his grasp and smack his chest. “Cabrón.”

Your comment doesn’t go unnoticed as he huffs to catch his breath, “Talk. Galindo, why were you with him?”

“Who's to say that was Miguel Galindo? There are others who drive black SUVs, Ezekiel.” You adjust your purse on your shoulder but he doesn’t buy it one bit. 

He sighs and grins, “Not in these parts of Santo Padre. And I-” EZ stops and looks over you, his face changes and a near disgusted look replaces the neutral one. It’s almost sinister too. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me. Please, tell me I’m wrong.”

Your head jerks back and you wonder what he means by that, your heart picking up a few beats faster, “What? Like I said, black SUVs do not always equate to the Galindo Cartel. Okay?”

He doesn’t get another word in as you jog to the front door and close it behind you. Angel peers over his shoulder and gives you a weird look. You roll your eyes and drop your purse before striding over to your father and giving him a kiss on the head.

“Do my eyes deceive me or is Angel actually doing something useful for once?” You tease as your older brother lets out a sarcastic laugh before going on about how much of a pain in the ass you are. 

After you feel things are settled and you help Angel with lunch, EZ and Gaby enter the kitchen in time to eat. You exhale a breath and put on a neutral face. You know your brother is not a stupid man. With his wicked IQ and impeccable memory, you knew he noticed the difference in clothing and the whole ordeal being dropped off by Miguel. 

He knows. You know he knows. You know he knows that you know he knows. And EZ has become quite a persistent person these last few months after becoming an official patched member of the MC. 

The lot of you gather in the dining room for lunch and you eye EZ as discreetly as possible. He hasn’t made any advancements to out you just yet but you know it will come eventually. Gaby has a weary expression on her face and it doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Is something bothering you, mija?” Felipe breaks the silence and everyone collectively looks up. Gaby, pobrecita, looks nervous as she stammers and tries to assure him that she is fine. 

She smiles and looks down at her plate of food. Angel quirks his eyebrows and shakes his head, digging into the bbq ribs. You pick at the potato salad with a fork and try to silence the thoughts in your head. 

You keep your head down but not so much that it will draw attention to you. But nothing gets by your father in his house, “Y tú?”

“Sí, I’m just still tired. I didn’t get much sleep last night.” You reply and EZ chokes on his drink. You look at him and purse your lips into a thin line and damn yourself. Considering he put  two and two together, you are sure that those images just flashed in his mind. His baby sister and Miguel Galindo… his skin becomes flushed. 

He grits his teeth together as the both of you lock eyes. Without looking away, EZ begins what would become a very difficult day for you, “Pops, what advice would give to someone who is involved in something they know they shouldn’t be.”

Your brother keeps his gaze on you as Felipe groans, it’s not the first time EZ tries to be subtle with calling one of his siblings out, “What is Angel up to now? Out with it, no games today, son.”

The tallest of the Reyes siblings chimes in with confusion as he hasn’t done anything wrong, as of lately. “Gotta be Y/N he’s tryna throw under the bus this time. What did you do now?”

You smack Angel as he fails to dodge it. When you look at EZ, he remains cold and all you want is to wipe that look off his face with your plate. “Nada! He’s mad because he thinks he is so big now that he’s patched in.”

“Órale..” Felipe sits back, “Whatever your sister is doing, I am sure it isn’t anything any of us have to worry about.” Your father stands to bring his dishes to the kitchen. 

You lift an eyebrow at EZ as you cross your arms over your chest. Victory. The three of you rarely argued with your father, knowing his temper and the belt arm is still very much tangible. 

“Even sleeping with Miguel Galindo?” As soon as those words are spoken, the room falls silent and all eyes are on you. Your jaw agape as you sink daggers into your brother's face. 

Angel scratches his head, “Galindo? You’re fucking Galindo?”

Gaby tries to scold EZ, telling him it’s none of his business and to let me worry about my business. But just as sharp as those daggers are pointed as EZ, the ones your father has pointed at you are sharper. 

You look at Felipe and blink, feeling yourself automatically cower, “You tell me what your brother says is wrong. Ahora!” The boom in his voice causes both you and Gaby to flinch. 

The comment makes EZ laugh, “10 times out of 10, pops, I am right. I saw you exiting his vehicle in front of Gloria’s house before lunch. And if I was wrong? She wouldn’t have run from me when I confronted her.”

Felipe places his plate on the table and takes a seat. He looks so distraught. The Galindo Cartel is not something to engage with. It’s bad enough that his sons are involved with them thanks to the club but his niña? 

“You’re going to stop. If I find out again that you are seeing him, I will make sure you see no boy ever again. Entiendes? Huh?!” Your father slams his hand on the table and his eyes widen at you. It was no use trying to suppress the tears. 

You want to argue, but the innate feeling to obey your father prohibits you from doing so. But the feeling of running is very much present. When you stand to walk out, Felipe catches your wrist and stands too, pulling you to look at him. 

“Do I need to beat you like you are a child with my belt?! Hm? Say you understand, ahora!” He yells and you cry , like you’re a little girl again. When you don't reply, he fumbles for his belt with his free hand. 

Angel and EZ stand and call out for Felipe to cut you some slack, “Com’n pops, you don’t gotta do all that.” Your brothers step besides you and your father.  

You squirm out of his hold and stumble back into Angel. You let out a whimper as you wipe your face, “I am not a child. Who I involve myself with has nothing to do with any of you. If you have problems with the cartel? That’s on you. Not me!”

EZ scoffs, “You think just because you can’t see a lion in its den then it’s okay to waltz right in? He isn’t someone you go on cute dates and start a life with. Look how well that went Emily.”

“That’s what this is about, right? Oh my goodness, of course. Miguel has taken something from you again. How pathetic can you be?” You laugh and look at Gaby, she seems so worried. “Poor Gaby, does she know that you still cry for a past relationship that would never work anyways. That Reyes temper would have had her fleeing if it weren’t for your stupid ass getting arrested. I mean… she didn’t even want to keep your baby.” Chest heaving and blood pumping. 

The look you get from EZ is scalding but the feeling is victorious.  He looks more hurt than upset at your comment. Gaby grabs her things and strides out. Felipe tries to hurry after her but she is out the door. 

You reach into your bag and text Miguel quickly. 911. 

All three of the Reyes men look at you, carrying expressions of disgust, hurt and anger. You look at each of them through a blurry vision. The tremble in your lip is prominent as the feeling  tries so hard to consume you but you fight it. 

“What?!” You yell, throwing your arms up in defeat. Felipe tsk’d and leaves the room and slams his bedroom door. When you move to leave, your brothers block the way. You look up to them, huffing and trying to break through. 

Angel snatches your bag and holds it above his head, “Com’n, chorro, we gotta talk about this, Galindo? You know that shit isn’t right.”

You look at EZ, “You aren’t gonna chase after your girlfriend, hm?”

“I’ve learned there are things that require contemplation and time. Have you learned that?” He sneers and you roll your eyes, stepping away from the brooding men. 

You stand with your back faced towards them for a moment before turning on your heal, a smile that holds no happiness or joy, “I’ve learned that Reyes men are nothing but controlling. Why does it matter if I am seeing him? You think I am so helpless that I can’t take care of myself? Do you really think that about me?”

The two of them look at one another and back at you, of course there is a whole lot of truth to your words. They are speechless and you step to Angel and hold out your hand, waiting for him to drop your purse into it. 

As if he was simply a few streets over, the sound of tires coming to a halt sounds from the street. You walk over to the window and see Miguel exiting the backseat with a quickness. A few guys trailing behind. 

“Shit.” You mumble as you push past your brothers. Of course, they follow you. When you reach the front door, Nestor is standing to knock but stops when he sees you. “That was quick, I’m okay.”

Miguel steps forward and grabs your hand, he steps back to get a full look at you. He doesn’t see any bodily harm but when he gets a good look at your face and sees you’ve been crying, his face changes. He steps towards your brothers who straighten their stances quickly. 

“Hey, it’s fine. I am fine.” You grab onto his arm to stop him from starting what would end in some kind of bloodbath. All the men around you are in a standoff. None of them budging. 

You swallow thickly, fearing for your brothers though just a moment ago you could care less of what becomes of them. The sound of a shotgun pumping sounds and from behind EZ and Angel walks your father. 

This only causes alert with Miguel’s men, they draw their weapons as do your brothers. Your heart begins to hammer and your eyes jump between them all. You squeeze Miguel’s hand, “Is all this necessary? I am simply responding to Y/N’s call. And she seems to be distraught. It’s only right I know why and make sure those who have caused her this distress, apologize.”

Angel scoffs and your father keeps the shotgun pointed. Your eyes plead as Angel tilts his head, keeping his gun level as well, “Nah, seems you are stepping on private property and the owner here seems to feel threatened.”

Miguel raises his hand to signal for the men to lower their weapons. Once they all do, your brother and father do the same. A sigh of relief falls from your lips. 

“Come.” Miguel says and he steps away from the house and pulls you along. You look back at your family. You feel the thread that holds you all together being pulled. When not long ago you were feeling hatred against them. 

Before stepping near the car, Miguel stops and turns around. “You know, if it’s something I’ve come to learn about her is that she desires trust with those around her. I don’t keep anything from her. I don’t ever make her feel less than what she should be.”

Angel rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest, “Cool story, bro. Tell us something about her that we don’t know.”

The look Miguel gives you holds an almost apologetic look, he caresses his thumb over your chin and pulls your head closer to allow a kiss to be placed on your forehead. He looks back to the three of them, “Julianna and Gustavo Yuna.”

Those names didn’t seem familiar to anyone except for Felipe. His face drops and you’re so confused with about a million different thoughts coming at you. 

“What are you going on about man?” EZ speaks up. 

Angel agrees, “Yeah, cut the bullshit and say what the fuck you are trying to say.”

But there was a part of you that knew. That always knew. You felt it when you were younger. Especially when your mother died. Though you spent many nights crying, you didn’t cry because a part of you died with her, you cried because it’s what you do when people die. 

You didn’t cry for her because truly deep down, there was no severed connection as there never was a connection. Not to her, not to your father, not to your two brothers. Not really.

“Y/N Yuna is who your sister really is. When your mother learned of your father’s mysterious affair, she threatened to leave. But he begged her not to. So they tried for a third but to no avail. So when word came that a friend in Mexico did not have the resources to raise a child, thus came Y/N Reyes.” Miguel finishes with the sneer in his voice. 

Even though a part of you knew, hearing the words out loud didn’t lessen the impact. It feels like the first gasp of air when you’ve been underwater for too long. The ache but relief from being deprived. 

When you look at Felipe, you merely blink away the pooling tears. You tug away from Miguel’s hold and get into the car. 

“Pops, what is he talking about? Affair? Yuna?” Angel questions his father but Felipe didn’t have it in him to answer anything, not to anyone. He falls back into the house after the car pulls away from the curb. 

Angel follows after him, firing away with questions and demanding answers meanwhile EZ remains outside, unsure how to process anything. He understood clearly and knew why Felipe always held you closer and loved you harder. Not because you were the only girl or the youngest but because you weren’t his at all. 

You sit flush against the car door, the sun hitting your face and warming the tears that have been falling since leaving your home. 

Home. It feels so misplaced among your thoughts. 

“Mi amor, say something.” Miguel says, hand reaching across to place on your thigh but you move it away. You cross one leg on top of the others and look down, sniffling and shaking your head.

You finally peer at him, “How long have you known?” 

“I knew of it since before you and I began seeing each other.” At least he is being truthful. “I didn’t feel any other time was the right one to share with you. Not until now.”

Laughter bubbles in your throat and Miguel remains still, unsure if this is madness taking over you. You weren’t even sure yourself as nothing is making sense at the moment. 

You begin to simmer down and huff, peering out the window, “Turn here, please. I need to do something.”

The day drug on and on, especially for your brothers. They couldn’t get anything out of Felipe as he locked himself in his room for the remainder of the day. EZ tried calling Gaby but she refused his calls, he knew she needed space. 

Both brothers sat until night fell and thought about you. The thought of your safety and your fragile heart. They begin talking about how when you were all kids, you would blame them for everything you did wrong and always got away with him.

“How she would set us up, man. Mamona! You know, EZ… despite her seeing fuckin’ Galindo and how that shit isn’t the smartest move, she did look comfortable beside him. I mean, we’ve seen her with other guys and she always was, I dunno, hesitant? Never lasted long either.” Angel confesses, though the words seem sour in his mouth, he meant it all. 

The younger brother of the two nods and downs the rest of the beer in front of him. He pats Angel on the shoulder as he exits his childhood home and heads to Gaby’s to try to get in some understanding before seeking you out too. 

When he arrives at Gabriela's residence, he sees you and her sitting on the steps in front of the door. He shuts off his bike and pulls off his helmet. 

You give Gaby a hug and head towards your brother, “Hey.”

EZ peers at Gaby who gives him a short wave. He looks back at you and you smile softly at him. You nod your head towards him, “Go talk with her. I’ll be here.” Your brother grips your chin and steps away from you. 

They don’t talk long, probably because Gaby insists that he right the wrongs with you. She is definitely the mediator of the group. You like that about her. You like her for EZ. 

When you had realized that you weren’t far from her house earlier, you asked Miguel to let you have some time alone. You wanted space from him but also to apologize to Gaby as well. It wasn’t fair how you shared the things you did about EZ. It wasn’t how she should have learned about Emily and the abortion. 

Gaby is very understanding. She didn’t have any animosity towards you and listened to what you had to say. She even got it out of you about learning of your recent familial relations. Shocked to say the least but kind enough to let you express yourself. 

You watch as your brother and her talk. You smile at them and thank the universe for giving your brother someone so patient and willing like Gaby. 

When she parts with him, EZ makes his way to you. You straighten your posture and move over for him to lean with you. He clenches his jaw and wrings his his hands together. 

“Thank you for talking to her.” He says and you smile, leaning against his shoulder. “She likes you a lot, I think she’s still warming up to Angel. We know how long that’ll take.”

The two of you laugh and nearly tumble off the bike in the process. Angel has always been the center of your amusement. And in between the sounds of the laughter is when you accept that blood isn’t what makes you family.

He wraps an arm around your shoulder, rubbing warmth and love onto your skin. You know that he will always be your brother no matter what blood runs through your veins, both he and Angel, your father and late mother as well. 

“Ezekiel, I’m sorry for the things I said. They were way out of line and I don’t care if I’m adopted. You’re always going to be my family. No matter what comes next.” You lock eyes with him and he nods, quickly encasing you in a big hug. 

He sighs into the hug, “I should have given you the chance to explain but I also shouldn't have reacted the way I did. You are all grown up now, there isn’t anything I can say or do to dictate your life. I’m sorry, hermanita.”

You didn’t want to let go, you wanted to hold onto him and remain in the safe spot that you’ve always been in.  It’s no question that you needed to talk to your father, along with both brothers but you also needed to talk to Miguel too. 

You have EZ bring you into town to your favorite ice cream shop. This time he waits with you until the familiar SUV pulls up. Miguel exits and your brother gives you a farewell hug. The two men eye each other but give approving nods. 

Miguel takes a seat beside you and notices the donas in front of you. “I got you some of my favorites. I figure you should know what kind I like, here try this one.” 

He eyes the sugared desert in front of him and takes a bite, you stifle a laugh seeing it cover his lips. You take a napkin and wipe off his face, smiling. When dust your hands off, you meet his eyes once more. 

“Though learning of all this has been a lot to consume, I guess finding out from you wasn’t the worst thing but also the fact that you knew all this time and never said anything is… harsh. I never thought I would be the girl to have a secretive relationship with a cartel leader. You only read about those kinds of things in books. A ver, look at me now. But I never… I never wanted to feel like I needed to hide something, especially something I am so sure about. And I am very sure about you. 

“I could tell that sneaking around was getting to you. And then all of this happens… I guess what I am trying to say is that I don’t want to hide. I want to be exclusive with you. I want the right people to know. Would you like that too?” Your cheeks began to hurt. The light feeling consumes you.

Miguel takes your hand and smiles widely, bringing the back of his lips. He closes the box of pastries and stands, holding out his hand for you to take. He leads you to the car and opens the door for you. 

He takes your face in his hands, once you’re both situated in the backseat and kisses you passionately.

“When I started seeing you, I didn’t expect to feel anything more than a simple adoration. I didn’t think it could be… this. In my world there is no room for soft spoken, dainty and beautiful things like you. I expected this feeling to be temporary and now I can’t get enough of you. My hands can’t stop aching for you divine presence within them. You’ve become a solace of some sort. A gift.” He continues to hold onto your face, you tilt your head in adoration, “It’s unfortunate, really. I would have liked to make this last.” 

Your eyebrows knit in confusion. A moment later, from the outside and through the window, a hand covers your mouth and a chemical scent consumes you. 

But right before you slip out of consciousness, he leans besides your ear, “Your brothers and father murdered my mother and I plan to enact revenge with their most precious gift.”

translations:

Hermanita: Sister.

Tienes que tener cuidado: You need to be careful.

Estas loco?!: Are you crazy?!

Sí, yo soy.. acerca de ti: Yes, I am… about you. 

Chorro: Jet. (in terms of speed in this use)

taglist: @cindsvibes @kchavez666  @dearsamcrobae  @courtrae89 @cocotheclown1  @brattyfics  @gemini0410  @angelreyesgirl100  @jasmine10128  @briana-mishell24  @starrynite7114 @est1887  @joannasteez  @amorestevens  @empireroyals @witching-hour @justazzie @mayansxlover @just1bri @toni9 @doritosandjellybeans​(please let me know if you would like to be added or removed!)

[massivecolorspygiant]

Mayans M.C. | Wolf Aesthetic 🐺

[massivecolorspygiant]

Bishop “watching you walk away” Losa | Mayans M.C.

[tropes-and-tales]

Mutual Misunderstandings

Day 13:  Impact play (Obispo “Bishop” Losa x F!Reader)

(For the 2021 Kinktober event offered by @beeschaos and @withlove-sid.  The original post and calendar/list can be found here.)  

CW:  Angsty; impact play gone wrong; use of “daddy” and “kitten”; praise kink; smut (PiV; unprotected); 18+ only.

Word Count:  4033

You damned well knew you were in trouble the moment Bishop walked through your door.  The dark scowl on his face, the way his eyebrows were knit together in frustration….less walking towards you than stalking you like you were prey…

Keep reading

[losolvidad0s]

My favorite bishop fic to date!!! Wowza 🤩

[losolvidad0s]

Hey can I be added to your taglist?

you got it, thank you!

[losaslut]

Care To Dance?

Paring: Bishop x f!Reader (no body type or race is mentioned)

Words: 5.2k

Summary: Six long years of loving you has brought Bishop to this moment, a moment of heartache so consuming it threatens to break him entirely.

Warnings: It starts out as fluff but then... yikes. angst (Major angst), character death (nothing graphic and nothing described in detail), mentions of cancer/brain tumor, Bishop is Not Doing Good

A/N: Yesterday was my grandma and papa's wedding anniversary. My papa died four years ago, and watching my grandma slowly lose herself is heartbreaking. So I wrote this to let go of my grief, but I definitely did cry several times while writing this. Good luck y'all

Nervousness, timidity, anxiety. That’s what Bishop feels right now. You’re both walking down the streets of Santo Padre, hand in hand, and you’re giggling over a dumb joke Bishop had made. It makes his heart flutter, he’s been pining after you for months now and now that the day is finally here, he’s gotten cold feet.

You’re lovely, the kindest woman he’s ever met, unbelievably strong-willed and a little stubborn, and Bishop caught feelings pretty quickly. But, he’s still nervous. With the pain and heartache he’s experienced throughout his life, he’s been reluctant to let someone into his heart, a new someone specifically. He’s nervous, and a little scared. Not that his relationship with Antonia wasn’t good, but they’d lost their love for each other. He’s afraid, deathly so, that you’ll do the same. That he’ll let you into his heart (not like you haven’t already wormed your way in over the past few months) only for you to decide you don’t love him anymore. He cares for you too much for that to happen.

Granted, it is only the first date, he’s getting ahead of himself. But something in him tells him that maybe you’ll be different, maybe you won’t leave, maybe you’ll love him like he deserves.

“Bish?” You whisper, your voice just soft enough so as to not let anyone else pry into your moment with him.

“Yes, querida?” Bishop asks, smiling at the way you blush and lean your head onto his arm as you walk. His heart flutters again.

“You spaced out a little,” With the hand not holding Bishop’s, you rub his forearm, squeezing lightly out of comfort. “Penny for your thoughts?”

He sighs, he doesn’t want to lie to you, but he’s also not quite ready to frontload the date with his conflicting emotions. Instead, he shakes his head, placing a kiss on the top of your head that’s still resting on his arm and sighing. Again, you’re flushed, face warm and heart full of such adoration for this man.

Bishop looks ahead and a little to his left to a small diner just at the edge of the street. You’ve both stopped walking, content to stay in your own little moment, but then he’s whisking you away to said diner. It’s family-owned with arguably the best food in town, but what really attracts Bishop is the jukebox and small dancing area.

“Food?” He asks, clearly dodging the question, but you don’t seem to mind. You laugh softly before nodding and walking a little faster to keep up with Bishop’s pace. He’s glad for that, that you don’t push and prod too much, that you let him keep his thoughts to himself for a little while even though he’s sure you’ll eventually pry it out of him.

Two hours pass, and you’re both still in the diner. You’ve finished your food (and Bishop was right, it’s the best burger you’ve ever had) and you even convinced Bishop to split a milkshake with you. It’s two hours into the date, two hours of laughter mixed with heartfelt conversations mixed with not-so-secret fond gazes. It’s then when you turn your head, and you finally notice the jukebox sitting in the corner of the diner.

Bishop’s heart flutters again at the way your eyes light up and your smile widens. You’re clearly hesitant to go put anything on, especially with the quiet atmosphere and lingering customers. So, he takes it upon himself to do it. He stands from his seat and makes his way across the room, and with his back turned to you he puts on a favorite of yours (I Want To Know What Love Is by Foreigner (yes it’s overplayed and yes you like it anyway)).

Turning around to look at you, he sees your face light up even more, it’s mixed with confusion because you definitely don’t know how he knew you even liked this song (you’ve played it in your car multiple times while giving Bishop rides and he’s an observant man). Bishop walks to your table, slowly and purposefully while extending a hand to you.

“Care to dance, my lady?” The question makes your face heat up, and even though you’re timid, you take his hand anyway. You trust Bishop to not make a fool of yourself.

“Of course, my lord.” You’re a little over dramatic in the way you say it, and it makes Bishop laugh because of course you’d indulge him, you’d let him do anything with and for you.

With your hand in his, Bishop walks you both to the center of the dance floor, spinning around and clutching you into his arms. You gasp in surprise, but quickly melt into his body, his hand holding yours to his chest and his other wrapped around your waist.

And then, you’re dancing. For how long, you don’t know. Each song melds into the other while you’re gazing into each other’s eyes and talking softly about anything and everything. The moment you’re in is beautiful and heartwarming, and Bishop’s wishing with everything in him that it won’t end, that you’ll stay here, dancing with him, forever.

And that’s the first clue that, yeah, maybe you will be good for him.

________________

A soft autumn day, the one year anniversary of when Bishop asked you to be officially his. The sun slowly slides lower into the sky to hide behind the horizon, giving some relief to the constant heat wave Santo Padre is under. Just outside the Santo Padre city limits rests a few trees, scattered grass, and a hill that overlooks what feels like the entirety of southern California, the distant cities lit up to create a scene of serenity. You’re laying with your head in his lap, gazing up at him with awe as he laughs heartily, eyes crinkling shut at the horrible dad-like joke you’d just made.

Truly, Bishop is most beautiful at his happiest. In one hand rests a book (and quite frankly you’ve forgotten what it was about, you’re both too busy talking to actually read), and his other hand rests on your stomach, moving with every giggle that shakes your body. If you’d asked him, he wouldn’t be able to tell you what it was you’re laughing about. The jokes, the comfort, come so naturally it’s easy to forget what even prompted the distraction.

Truthfully, this last year has been one of the best years Bishop has had in a long while, too long in fact. You’ve been a breath of fresh air, a light shining in the dark tunnel he’s been crawling through for years. He’s so in love, too in love that it actually hurts. It hurts to be away from you for too long, it hurts to not hold you while he’s sleeping, it hurts to think of losing you.

Suddenly, you’re pulling away from Bishop’s warmth. You’re standing up and brushing the dirt from your legs before you extend a hand to your boyfriend. You laugh when confusion clouds Bishop’s features, so you extend your hand further.

“Care to dance, my lord?” Bishop laughs heartily, you ask as though he could ever say no to you.

“Of course, my lady.” He sets the book aside and stands as well, with your hand clutched in his. And he does what he’s always done when dancing with you, he wraps you in his arms with his hand holding yours against his chest, your bodies melting into the other.

Though there’s no music, the sound of the crickets and the wind blowing through the scattered trees offers you enough of a melody. Bishop sways you from side to side, feet stumbling on the uneven surface as he twirls you around, dipping you every so often. Your laughter echoes into the night, and no amount of convincing in the world could pull Bishop from his hard stance that your laugh is the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard.

“I love you, Obispo,” Bishop’s cut away from his thoughts and tilts his head down to really look at you, eyes shining with love as he traces every feature on your face like it might be the last.

“I love you, amor,” He whispers back, voice almost lost in the wind whipping around you. But you heard it. Your smile widens, your eyes close, and you lean forward to rest your head on his chest, in love with this moment and with Bishop.

And in this beautiful moment of two lovers enjoying each other’s company, Bishop thinks he could do this with you forever, he could love you for the rest of his life and he’d die a happy man for it.

____________

Your second anniversary comes out of nowhere. The year leading up has been hectic, with your job demands increasing and the club, things have been stressful. There have been many nights where you’re away from each other, there have been plenty of disagreements, and more than a few actual arguments. And through it all, Bishop’s love for you has grown exponentially. In no lifetime does he think he could live without you, without your love.

He’s standing outside of your shared home with flowers in his hands, red roses, to be specific (and yes he googled the meanings of each flower color to properly portray his love for you). He knocks twice, the same knock he used to make when he would go to your house to pick you up for a date. And as he waits for you to open the door, his heart starts racing, a million thoughts running through his head over what could possibly go wrong with the evening. He’s already told the club members to not bother calling him (demanded is more like it, he doesn’t care what it is, he is not to be interrupted tonight), but knowing his men, they’ll probably find a way to take him away anyway.

You could be sick, or not feeling up to going out. And while that’s no problem at all, it just means that Bishop has to quickly rearrange your plans for the evening. He’s too nervous today to have anything go wrong or for any inconvenience to arise. Tonight is going to be perfect no matter what, he’ll make sure of that.

The door opens about a minute after he’d knocked, and you stand on the other side of the door looking breathtaking, the most beautiful green dress adorning your body. You’re laughing, body leaning against the doorframe and the softest smile he’s ever seen.

“What’s all this about?” You ask, giggling to yourself when Bishop holds out his hand and prompts you to take the flowers. Which you do, but you can’t help but feel… off about the evening. “You know you live here, right? You can just come in if you want.”

“This is a special day, mi amor. I’m going to woo you and you’re going to let me.” The smile on Bishop’s face melts your heart, so you indulge him in his attempts to sweep you off your feet (he does this frequently, but you can feel that tonight is a little more special).

For this anniversary, Bishop doesn’t take you to any fancy restaurant, nothing luxurious or over the top, it’s not either of your tastes. Instead, he takes you to the diner, the same one he took you to for your first date and the one you’ve made a point to go to at least once a month. This night goes over pretty much the same as your first date, you’ve eaten, shared a milkshake, and time flies by as you talk. You’re holding hands across the table with Bishop rubbing yours with his thumbs, and you can’t quite place where the twinkle in his eyes are from.

And just like your first date, he steps away from you to go to the jukebox and play your song. Just by the first few notes you know he’s going to whisk you away to dance, but you stay seated, waiting for him to come and ask you like he’s always done, it’s tradition at this point.

Without fail, he does come ask you, a hand extended for you to hold onto as he asks, “Care to dance, my lady?”

And without fail, you respond, “Of course, my lord.”

And then you’re dancing, his hand holding yours to his chest and an arm wrapped around your waist. By this point in your relationship, the motions are fluid, effortless even. You move and sway against each other like you’d been doing it for decades, like your bodies are so in tune with each other that where one goes, the other follows.

Bishop’s twirling you around for the third time that evening, and when your back is towards him, he uses that split second to drop to his knee and steady you when you stumble against him. Your eyes are wide, your mouth agape, and you don’t even let him ask what you know he’s about to.

“Yes,” You gasp, grasping tight on the hand still in yours.

Bishop laughs, head tilting back and eyes filling with tears. You said yes and he hadn’t even gotten the words out. But he supposes it’s for the best, his voice surely would have cracked with the emotions he’s struggling to keep inside.

____________

Your third anniversary is arguably the most important. Today is the day. The day you and Bishop seal your love and become Man and Wife. He’s never been this nervous before, never so happy. The wedding itself was long, too long if you ask him. He wanted nothing more than to sweep you into his arms and call you Mrs. Losa from the minute he saw you at the end of the aisle.

But now you’re married, husband and wife. The reception is equally as beautiful as the wedding with the dance hall filled with your friends and family and loved ones sharing in your joy. Alcohol flows freely and currently Angel and Coco are absolutely tearing up the dance floor. Laughter echoes throughout the room and the beat of the song has everyone moving.

Then it’s time for your and Bishop’s first dance as a married couple, everyone that was previously dancing stepping off to the side to form a circle around you two. He leads you to the center, grabbing your left hand and kissing the ring that adorns it.

“Care to dance, my lady?” Bishop asks with the biggest grin etched into his face, eyes shining with unshed tears and love for you, his wife.

“Of course, my lord,” You whisper, voice smooth like honey.

Bishop takes your hand in his, placing another kiss to your ring finger before clutching it to his chest and wrapping you in his arms. You move swiftly together, swaying to the slowed beat. In this moment, everything fades away until it’s just you two, gazing into each other’s eyes. Occasionally he’ll lean down to place a kiss to your lips, and each time he leans back you lean forward to chase his lips. And each time, he laughs, so in love with you.

Too in love with you.

____________

It’s around your first wedding anniversary, and fourth year of being together, that you get the diagnosis. It’s brain cancer. A tumor so swollen and one that had gone unnoticed and untreated for too long to do anything about. Terminal, is what they said. You have six months to a year left, there’s no way to tell.

It’s scary, it’s fucking terrifying for all parties. You’re losing your life too fucking soon. And Bishop? He’s losing his love, his world, his moon and sun. With the way you’ve been forgetting things, fumbling with memories and dates and events, it makes sense now. The tumor is so big that it’s taking away your memory at a terrifyingly fast rate. It may progress slower since you’re on medication, they said, there’s no way to tell.

There’s no way to tell. That’s what scares Bishop the most. What if you forget him? What if you forget the love you two share, the love he has for you that he tries so hard to convey? And what about you? He can’t imagine the kind of pain you’re going through, knowing that time is slipping through your fingertips and there’s no way to stop it.

The drive back home is filled with silence, and not the comfortable kind. You’re staring out the window with dead, cold eyes, like you haven’t fully processed the information given to you today. At one point Bishop rests his hand on your thigh to comfort you, but you move his hand away. That’s what really hurts, that you’re dying and terrified and unbelievably angry and he can’t do anything, he doesn’t even know how to comfort his own heart, let alone yours.

When you do make it to your house, you’re both slow to get out of the car. It takes five minutes, actually, to get up the courage to exit the vehicle and walk into your home. Both of your movements are slow, you’re walking through the house looking from left to right, trying to ingrain every little thing into your mind for when you inevitably lose these memories altogether.

The living room is where you pause, lights are strung up and unlit candles are scattered throughout the room. A full bottle of wine and two empty glasses sit on the coffee table, and you wonder how you missed all of this when you left for the hospital that morning. However, you think that it’s definitely due to the splitting headache you had that morning that prompted you two to even go to the hospital.

Every piece of furniture has been pushed off to the side, Bishop had wanted to spend your first anniversary treating you like a queen, dancing the day away and well into the night, holding each other in your arms. When you turn around, you see your husband leaning against the hallway wall with hollow eyes as he takes in the scene and the circumstances. It’s too much for him, the grief in his heart outweighing any joy that today should’ve brought.

Silence fills the room, it’s hauntingly quiet, reminding you both of how little time you have to fill it with laughter before it inevitably goes away. Your gentle footsteps have Bishop picking his head up, you’re standing by the record player with a vinyl already in place and fiddling with the old thing (you’re still unsure how to use it properly). A smooth melody rings out, breaking the ice-cold tension that permeates your beings.

Bishop’s mouth twitches, his lips lifting ever so slightly to form a smile, one so soft and specifically reserved for you. Unshed tears linger in his eyes as you make your way towards him with an outstretched hand.

“Care to dance, my lord?” Your voice quivers and cracks, but your gaze remains on Bishop. His fragile heart healing just a fraction at the reminder that you still have today. If nothing else, you have today to love and look after each other.

“Of course, my lady.”

____________

The big bad number five. Five years since you’ve been together. Five years full of love and laughter and joy. Five years since Bishop gave you his heart, hoping you’d never break it. Yet, here you are, laying in a hospital bed. He was warned, her memory is fading, there’s a chance she may not remember a year or two back. Your family and him take turns staying with you, but he’s been unable to visit for the last week due to too much work, too much shit to deal with, too many things going wrong.

It’s the fifth year of being with you, the second that you’ve been married and your family has stepped out to give Bishop his time with you. He currently stands in the doorway to your private room, red roses in his hands. He knocks twice, and you turn your head to look at your man, your face lighting up, your smile brightens, more than it has in a while.

“Obispo!” You gasp, your hand reaching for him. When he does make it to you, he rests the flowers on your bedside table, the tears in his eyes so close to falling. You grab at his hand, pulling it up to kiss his knuckles, and he smiles too. So in love with you, too in love with you that it hurts. It hurts that you’re leaving, it hurts that he can’t help you, it hurts that he doesn’t know how much time he has left with you, his soulmate. But most of all, it hurts when you ask what’s the occasion?

It stings, sharp, like a knife had been plunged into his heart. “It’s our anniversary, mi amor,” Bishop whispers, lifting up your hand so he can kiss your knuckles as well.

“Today?” And again, his heart aches, his stomach filling with bile.

“Yes, mi amor. It’s been five years,” You see the tears in his eyes, you hear the quiver in his voice, you feel the pain he carries.

You’re too scared to ask how it could possibly have been that long. It definitely doesn’t feel like it, you can remember the day he proposed like it was only a few months ago, because for you, it had been. The shimmer on his finger catches you off guard, and you look down to see a gold ring around his left finger. And you’re confused, when did you get married?

And then it hits you, you can’t remember getting married. You couldn’t remember your own fucking wedding day.

It’s suddenly hard to breathe, the pain in your chest overwhelms you. As you got sicker, you knew you wouldn’t be able to hold onto many memories, but you curse every God out there that they took away the most important day of your life.

Bishop, sensing your panic, holds your hands in his to kiss them again. “It’s okay, my love. It’s okay.”

Except it’s not okay. It’s not okay that you’ve forgotten your wedding day, it’s not okay that every time you see Bishop, your face lights up as if it’s the first time you’re seeing him after a long time. It’s not okay, but Bishop toughens up and consoles you, squeezes himself in your bed and rocks you as you cry in his arms. He lets you cry out your emotions, placing kisses to your forehead every so often whispering about how much he loves you, he adores you, you’re in his heart forever.

A knock on the door startles you out of your sobbing fest. There, standing in the doorway, is Hank holding a stereo. You’re confused, what is Hank doing here? He makes his way into your room and sets the stereo on a shelf nearby and walks to your bedside, and you have an inkling as to what this is.

Bishop stands, pulling back the sheet that covers you while Hank makes some adjustments with the tubes and wires connecting you to the machines helping you survive. When everything is situated and Hank is holding onto the monitor, Bishop leans down to cradle you in his arms and lift you up. The two men take their time getting you where they want you, and Bishop only lets you down once you’ve convinced him that, yes, you can stand, you’ll just need help.

So that’s what Bishop does, he takes you in his arms, one arm around your waist to steady you and his other hand grasping yours to his chest like a lifeline. Neither of you notice when Hank steps away, the music filling the room is all you care about, all you can care about in this moment.

“Care to dance, my lady?” Bishop’s voice cracks, his unshed tears now flowing freely down his cheeks.

“Of course, my lord.”

And that’s how you spend your fifth anniversary, swaying against each other in a hospital room, knowing that any day now, you’d be gone.

____________

It’s the next morning at 7:42 AM and nurses are running around frantically, doctors flying into your room when monitors go off and your heartbeat starts to slow. Bishop’s been pushed out of the room, there’s too many people in there trying to save your life for him to be in there. Fuck them, he thinks. Fuck them for pushing him away from you, fuck them for not being able to save you, fuck them for ruining your lives. Now, he knows it’s not their fault, how could it be? But there’s nothing else Bishop can think of to place the blame on.

His brothers have to hold him back, have to keep him from lunging into the room and tearing into anyone he lays eyes on. Time is slowing down, everything is too fast yet too slow, Bishop can’t keep up with it. He catches the voices in fragments. Starting compressions. Heartbeat dropping. More fluids. Heartbeat dropping. Continuing compressions. Heartbeat dropping.

And then, silence. Bishop’s ears are ringing, bile rising in his stomach, he can’t, can’t, process what’s happening. He can’t and he doesn’t want to. It’s when the doctors exit the room with sullen and sympathetic faces that he breaks. His blood turns cold and his heart numbs, why couldn’t they save you?

Slowly, the doctors move to the side and extend a hand towards the door, silently prompting him to go in. He almost can’t, his feet seem to be cemented to the ground. But with Taza’s comforting hand on his shoulder guiding him forward, his feet drag and arms hang limp at his sides. When Bishop gets to the door, he closes his eyes and prepares himself for what he’s about to see.

It’s you, laying in your hospital bed with the roses in a vase on your bedside table. Your body is completely still, your chest doesn’t rise and fall with each breath you take, because you’re not breathing. Bishop is standing in the doorway of your room crying, looking at his wife, taken from him too soon.

He doesn’t know how he got the courage to walk to your bed, but he’s there now. He’s grabbing your left hand, running his thumb over the ring he gave you when you sealed your love for all of your friends and family to see. Slowly, he lifts your hand to his lips, his eyes closing as more tears flow down his cheeks. The kiss placed there is delicate, his lips shaking and his breathing heavy as he lowers your hand a tad.

“I love you, amor,” Bishop whispers like he’s afraid he’ll wake you. “Forever.”

The tears fall faster, Bishop’s chest constricts, he’s unable to breathe as he takes the ring off of your finger. He clutches it in palm, holding it to his chest while he imagines the life you two built, the life you could’ve had.

___________

Six years ago today, Bishop asked you to be his. Flash forward those six years and you have Bishop, standing under cloudy skies at the foot of your grave, staring at the red roses on top of the soil like it’ll somehow bring you back to him. But it won’t, he knows this, he hates this. He hates that everyday he wakes up without you next to him, everyday he comes home and you’re not there waiting to greet him, love him.

But since you’re gone, and there is nothing he can do about it, he tries his hardest to not break as he moves to sit beside your headstone and lean against it. The paper folded in Bishop’s hand gets unwrinkled, and with tears in his eyes and an unsteady voice, he reads aloud the letter he wrote for you that morning while in a drunken stupor.

“Hello, my love,” He starts, pausing to sniffle and control his emotions so he can continue.

“364 days ago, we spent our last anniversary together. Although it wasn’t how I imagined or wanted it to be, we made the best of the circumstances. Being with you, dancing with you, that’s all I’ve ever wanted in life. To love someone with my entire soul and have that same love returned. I can confidently say that your love has far surpassed anything I could have ever imagined, it’s more than I deserved, quite frankly.”

Bishop’s voice cracks again, his voice quivering with each passing sentence. But he’s determined to see this through, to tell you how he feels hoping that you can hear him.

“Our time spent together, no matter how short, will live with me forever. You will live with me forever, in my heart and soul. There is no day that goes by that I don’t wish you were here with me, no day passes where I don’t cry myself to sleep, wondering what we could have had, and cherishing the time we did have. I can’t change what happened, I couldn’t do anything to fix it, and that’s probably what kills me the most. I had tried, with everything in me, to protect you and love you. But I couldn’t protect you from this, I couldn’t have imagined that something outside of my control would take you away from me.”

He pauses again, hanging his head. He doesn’t even need to read the next paragraph, he’d already memorized it, so he continues with his eyes squeezed shut and his head tilted on the stone.

“364 days ago, we spent our last anniversary together. 365 days ago, I lost you. I lost the love of my life, the person I thought I’d have by my side for eternity. I still don’t know how to cope, I don’t know how to move on from this overwhelming and terrible grief I feel deep in my soul. To be honest, I don’t know if I can, ever. You were my person, the light at the end of a dark and horrible tunnel I’d been crawling through for years. You brought me happiness, in my entire life, I was never as happy as I was when I was with you. I don’t know how to be happy again, if I ever can be happy again.

“When we met, I knew how to dance. I knew how to move with the rhythm and the beats, but I’d never learned how to dance with someone so effortlessly. Dancing with you brought me peace and serenity, it calmed my heart when you were in my arms, staring up at me with a love I would never deserve. I don’t dance anymore. I don’t want to, not unless it’s with you.”

The paper falls to the ground, Bishop’s body shaking with sobs as he pulls the chain out from under his shirt, the chain that holds your ring. He presses it into his chest, the thunderous thudding of his heart threatening to break out of him.

Ten minutes or ten hours later (he wouldn’t know, it feels like he’s been there for eternity), Bishop turns his head to press his lips against the cold cement of your headstone.

“I’ll see you in our next life.”

[losolvidad0s]

Masterpiece. Brilliant. 🥺😩

[losolvidad0s]

Can I be added to the tag list please

Yes!! Appreciate u 😘

[thedevilsmoonshine]

[putas-in-suffering]

Tu Dolor es Mi Dolor

Pairing: Obispo “Bishop” Losa x Female Reader/You

Rating: SFW, angst

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 💖💖

Keep reading

[losolvidad0s]

I love a deeply felt Obispo fic!!!

[losolvidad0s]

Culebra, A. Reyes

Summary: When you learn of EZ’s DEA deal, your relationship with Angel is put on the line. 

warnings: swearing, a n g s t 😩 

word count: 1.7K

a/n: hi everyone! I am slowing jumping back into the writing groove so here is an angsty Angel Reyes fic that made my heart crack right down the middle, wahhh. Love my emo baby Angel. Enjoy! Thank you for +350 followers!

taglist: @cind-in-real-life  @kchavez666  @dearsamcrobae  @courtrae89 @cocotheclown  @brattyfics  @gemini0410  @angelreyesgirl  @jasmine10128  @briana-mishell24   @starrynite7114 @est1887  @joannasteez​  @amorestevens​  @bidenbussy​  @empireroyals​ (please let me know if you would like to be added or removed!)

(gif belongs to @haydenpanettieres ✨)

“Please, EZ, tell me this is some kind of sick joke.”

EZ looks at you with soft eyes, a defeated expression painted over his face as he remains stoic. If there was a chance this was a prank then you’d just wait til the boyish grin forms on his lips but that never comes. He brings his hands to hold the front of his kutte, a defense mechanism of his. 

A heaviness settles in your chest and the pit of your stomach as his words begin to replay in your mind. He tries to give you an apologetic look as you process everything. After a few moments, the worry turns into frustration then quickly to anger.

“I made a deal with the Drug Enforcement Administration that got my sentence reduced to half by becoming a part of the Mayans MC to get Intel on the Galindo Cartel.”

Your hands push against EZ’s chest, which he wasn’t expecting, causing him to stumble back. The shoves keep coming the angrier you get. “Y/N, stop.” He tries to get ahold on your wrist to stop you but the adrenaline fuels you to be quicker than him for a brief moment.

Eventually, he is able to grasp and hold your wrist steady between the two of you and as you try to break free, you cry out. “How could you? How could you do that to him? Why, EZ?!” The break in your voice when you scream his name makes him let go and step back. Your face now wet with tears, voice well on its way to becoming hoarse. 

“I had to, it was the only way. If I didn’t then..”

You scoff, “Then what? You’d have to finish your sentence? You choose to hurt your brother rather than finishing YOUR sentence that you got YOURSELF into? How selfish of you. You disgust me!” Your shoulder harshly collides with his as you walk off.

When EZ had asked to grab dinner, you didn’t expect it to end this way. After getting a bite to eat at a favorite food truck, he took a different route back to Angel’s apartment, saying he needed a friend. You thought it could be him needing to talk about how things have been hectic in the MC. Being a prospect and all.

“Y/N.” He calls out to you as you walk away from him in the darkness, you don’t go very far though. You feel defeated knowing all of this is only going to end one way, Angel’s heart being broken. You slowly turn back, “He’s gonna hate me.” Your voice barely above a whisper.  

This relationship with Angel has been a rocky one. It’s been on and off for the past year but when EZ was released from prison and began prospecting for the MC it somehow helped Angel to establish a foundation with you, opening his eyes in some way. He saw how loyal you were to him and that you were the only constant. But with this, that could jeopardize it all.

EZ watches you as a million thoughts run through your mind. He can see that you’ve been holding your breath for sometime now, “You can’t tell him.” You couldn’t believe you were saying it. Whose side are you on anyways? Would this be considered fraternizing with the enemy by asking him to keep quiet? 

His brows crease as he steps forward, “Whaddaya mean, Y/N? I have to, eventually. The DEA, they need intel and I don’t know how much longer I can keep this under the radar without risking someone getting caught under the bus. Me or them.”

“EZ, this will break him beyond repair. I can’t lose him to this. I worked very hard to get him to want me the way he does now. And the second he realizes I knew, I’m dirt to him. I can’t have that. So no, don’t tell him. You can figure out a way to keep this under water while still holding up your end of the bargain.” You plead to him, having moved closer. He searches your eyes and gently nods. A small smile appears on your lips as a rugged breath breaks through. EZ wraps his arms around you as you cry.

For a while, you thought this could all work out. It was going so well that you almost forgot about all of it. Then came the night where Angel mentioned something unexpected came up with the MC and that he’d be off the radar til the next day. It didn’t come off as worrisome with you as you’ve gotten used to these kinds of things. But then came the following morning. 

You were making your way to Angel’s apartment, surprising him with breakfast. As you go to knock the door opens and a visibly angry Angel is standing there, a pile of your clothes bundled in his arms. “Angel?”

“Ah. perfect timing, here.” He drops it at your feet with force and disappears into the apartment. You stand through shocked for a moment before stumbling over the clothes to follow him. You call out his name as you set down the bag and two coffees.  

He appears once again, more clothes and your bathroom bag. He flies it towards you, you trying to catch it but failing to. You have no idea what’s going on. But he mumbles something under his breath. Culebra. As if the air in the room suddenly begins to run out, barely any left to breath it hits you all at once. Angel continues to drop things at your feet.

“Angel…” You begin but he stops in front of you, his towering figure making you peer up at him. He starts to move towards you, an instinct of yours to keep out of harm's way and in this instant harm seems to be Angel. “Baby, talk to me.”

He bites his bottom lip, letting out a low chuckle, “I got nothing to say to you. In fact, it’s almost like when you had nothing to say to me. Boy scout and pops, I could see that coming. But you? Keeping a secret like that from me. For 2 fucking weeks?”

The venom is dripping off his tongue with hurt gleaming in his eyes.

You attempt to reach out and touch him, you being a physical lover rather than a verbal kind, but he pushes it away, “I trusted you, I opened my life to you despite being sketched out to do but I fucking did but you! You’re the one who can’t even be honest with me. It was always ‘It’s Angel’s fault, you dig yourself in these holes, Angel. Be real with me, Angel.’ But look, my own fucking girlfriend.”

The heat is literally radiating off him. But what excuse do you have? You shared his frustrations when EZ first told you but you became selfish and decided to keep quiet about it. You wanted the good times to keep rolling and because of the selfishness, it’s all crashing. 

Angel steps away from you, “I wanted to tell you. I did!”

“But you fucking didn’t. You choose him over me, you did that knowing it meant Ezekiel over Angel! No hesitation.’ He screams at you, pointing his fingers.

A sob falls from your lips as you see him breaking like a tide taking away a sandcastle. It hurts more than you imagined it would. The outcome of telling him would’ve been immensely better than this one. Why did you think it could all go away and never come to light?

“That’s not true! Of course I thought about it.. I was upset that he would do something like that to you, I truly was but,” You nearly stutter trying to get your words out. 

There were many occasions that you’ve seen Angel mad. Countless arguments, disagreements, petty acts but never like this. “But what? Hm? What, Y/N?!” He strides back over to you, getting in your face as you flinch back on instinct. 

You’re quiet, averting your eyes from him. “But then I’d lose you. That’s what I was scared of.”

Angel tilts his head, “That doesn’t even make any sense, Y/N. You think I would be angry at you because of what my brother did? I’m pissed because you knew and decided not to tell me. You walked around acting like you didn’t know. I have every right to be mad! And besides that, how fucking selfish of you, thinking of you and not how it would hurt me.”

“I was scared because your brother betrayed you, because by EZ doing this it would remind you of the hurt you felt growing up. It would make you feel like you used to… which means you would lose yourself, I would lose you right in front me. And I want all of you, good and bad, but w-we had just gotten to a good place. We weren't arguing as much a-and I had been slowly leaving more and more things here.” You look down at the articles of clothes scattered at your feet. 

Angel inhales a deep breath and lets it out forcibly. He looks to you then scratches his eyebrow, not knowing how to carry on the conversation. As your emotional distress begins to be felt physically, Angel takes your hand and holds it against his cheek.

This is something you both began to do when neither of you could speak. When the words wouldn’t form, couldn’t explain how you felt, the touch of  hand could do it. As he holds it against his cheek, you cry more. This meant that Angel understood.

As he brings your hand back down, you leap up to wrap your arms around his neck. He does the same around your waist, breathing in your scent. He closes his eyes as he sinks into you.

You won’t ever know what this moment meant for Angel. Despite feeling completely wrecked to learn what EZ had done, along with you keeping it in the dark, Angel feels wanted for the first time in a long time. Though true you wanted to protect yourself, you wanted to protect him more. To him, that’s enough to look past the wrong you did. He knows in this moment, you are truly the one for him.

[losolvidad0s]

Songbird, O. Losa

Summary: As you try to finalize your divorce with Bishop, you both fall prey to each other. 

warnings: smut (18+) 🥵 , swearing, elToxico!Bishop

words count: 2.8K

a/n: Obispo fkn Losa, that man has me wrapped around his finger and I do not give a single f a h k. I swear this was suppose to be angst only but I couldn’t resist it. Part 2 to find out what happened between the two of them? Let me know. I hope you enjoy, I am going to start workin on some Angel/ EZ/ Miguel fics too!

taglist: @cind-in-real-life​ @kchavez666​ @dearsamcrobae​ @courtrae89​ @cocotheclown​ @brattyfics​ @gemini0410​ @angelreyesgirl​ @jasmine10128​ @briana-mishell24​ @starrynite7114​ (please let me know if you would like to be added or removed!)

(gif belongs to @thedevilsmoonshine​ ✨)

The crunch of gravel under your feet is barely audible as the sound of music and commotion increasingly get louder while you approach the Mayans MC clubhouse. A cool, low breeze surrounds you as you ascend the steps and pause in front of the door, the flat package in your hand suddenly feeling heavy. 

“Bish expecting you?” 

Angel’s voice suddenly sounds from beside you. You peer to your right and exhale the held breath that you’ve been holding from your car. He takes a drag from his cigarette as he leans off of the railing. He treks towards you slowly, keeping his eyes on you like a predator watching his prey.

This is how it’s been with most of the club. The lingering stares and looks of down right disgust. Though your appearance at the clubhouse is very minimal to none, you do have your reasons to show up. Like when your soon to be ex-husband, better known as El Presidente, doesn’t respond to calls when it comes to signing another portion of your divorce decree. 

You look to the window which shows the ongoing party happening indoors. “No, but I’m just trying to hurry this process up as fast as I can.” You don’t look at Angel but keep your eyes on the window.

“Yeah, the quicker the better.” He scoffs and hits your shoulder with his as he makes his way in, not bothering to hold the door open for you. You try to remember the supportive words you’ve gotten from your friends. The rapid beating of your heart and slight shaking hands make it nearly impossible for you to keep your cool. But you manage to shake the nerves and head in.

When you walk through the door, some of the commotion has simmered down and eyes are on you for a brief moment. It’s not rocket science to know they are whispering about you, but you have been the talk amongst them for sometime now.   

You look around for a moment before continuing your trek to find Bishop. EZ makes eye contact with you and gives you a soft smile, he is part of the select few that still treats you kindly. That also includes Taza who always seems to be Switzerland in most situations that you used to have with El Presidente.

“Know where I can find Bishop?” EZ doesn’t verbally respond but looks past you and nods his head. You turn to, indeed, find him. He is near the pool table, pressed up against a visually stunning young lady. They are both swaying their hips and jiratting into each other, his back to you. For a moment you watch, before taking a deep breath and walking over. 

It’s been only a month and a half since the divorce process started. Naturally, to see him in such a state is still hard to process but if it’s something that he wants, you have no say in stopping him. Besides, you are the very reason this divorce is happening. 

As you approach them, the girl finally notices you. She continues to let Bishop move her around but eventually she taps his shoulder and pushes away from him. He must have given her a look because she juts her chin towards you to give him a heads up. He turns with confusion  and spots you on the other end of the table. It seems he lets out a deep, frustrated sigh. 

Without saying anything on why you are here, you hold up the manila folder. He looks to it then back to you, visibly sighing and grabbing his glass which you presume is scotch. Always been his choice of poison. He nods towards the door to which Templo resides in. 

The both of you head in, Bishop closing the door behind him, “Couldn’t give me a call to let me know you were stopping by?”

“You’d have to answer your phone for that but,” You sass him as he burns holes in the back of your head before sitting in his spot in the large chair. He looks over you, nothing much has changed but the darker circles around your eyes. 

The thick folder opens with a soft thud, the heavy side hitting the table when you push it towards him, setting a pen down. He pulls it closer to get a look at, flips through the pages and groans slowly seeing the pages labeled ‘assets’. “All this shit necessary to put on paper?” 

“We never signed a prenup, Obispo.” You retort. 

He fires back quick, “We never needed to. We agreed to what’s mine is mine and what's yours is yours. Simple as that, so what is it that we need to go over and sign on paper?” 

It was never a chore for the two of you to agree on something before or during your marriage. However, he’s right. You both owned your own things and for whatever you owned together then it was still capable to have his and hers to it. 

You press your lips into a thin line. He looks at you and rolls his eyes, pushing the manilla folder away from him. You sigh and push back to which he looks at you with such venom. 

“You think I want to come here and have to listen to you bicker with me over something that I am trying to get through with? I know you hate me, I know you want nothing to do with me so bare with me and understand this is just standard, how it goes. I don’t make the rules.” You try your best to remain authoritative, but it’s hard to do when you’ve only known to be submissive towards him.

He stares at you, before pulling the papers closer. “Yeah, you just break them.” 

“For fuck’s sake! What is it gonna take for me to make you comprehend how sorry I am for what I did to you. Everything I do, it’s always with good intentions. For everyone’s well-being, mine and yours. So for the love of God, please just sign the fucking paper’s, Obsipo!” You release as you rise to your feet and slam your hands on the table.

The action takes Bishop by surprise. He leans back and runs a hand over his mouth,. You weren’t one to lose your shit, you were always calm and collected while it was him who’s short-tempered. 

He looks at you, seeing a small vein protrude on your forehead. And what should have angered him, only turned him on. It’s been nothing but stress with this divorce with you. Though his tough shell doesn’t let the world see the tender heart it carries, he does miss you. He misses the comfort you bring him when the club does the opposite. 

Bishop stands and moves towards you. The two of you stand at the same height, so you’re eye to eye with him. His eyes rake your body as you look to him with furrowed eyebrows. He brings a hand up to push some hair behind your shoulder, you watch his hand as much as you can while he does so. The hammering in your chest begins to make your breathing rugged, “What are you doing?”

“Shh.” That’s all he says before grabbing your face with two hands, pulling you into a kiss. 

For a moment or two, it’s him just kissing you. His lips enveloping yours entirely as he holds onto your face. Even if you wanted to resist, the ability to not submit stands no chance when his hands move down your arms and around to your backside, taking handfuls of your ass into his hands, squeezing it in all its glory. 

You moan as you start to kiss back, the kiss becoming an open mouth one. Now your tongues are dancing along each other in such blissful sync. Your arms squeeze out from under his to wrap around his neck, one of your hands finds its way up the back of his neck and into his unruly pepper hair. Fingers lacing through his locks and tugging gently. 

But Bishop doesn’t plan to be gentle.

He nudges your body back towards the table, pushing the chair out of the way and lifting you like nothing to sit on its surface. He pushes his body to stand in between your legs as he breaks the kiss to move his lips to attack the flesh of your neck. You tip your head back and close your eyes to enjoy the feeling. Bishop suckles on your skin like a bee would pollen. Your back arches as he wound his arm to pull you close to him. You are moving your hips in circles for the need of friction. The need becomes stronger the more he marks the skin of your neck. Your patiences wear thin. You can’t take it as your core aches for his touch of some kind. 

Bishop can feel how much you want it, how badly you need it but he is torturing you with the slow but harsh neck kisses. Your hands move below to fiddle with his belt but he pushes your hands back, planting them on the sides of your thighs, he pulls his head back so you can face you again, “No, I get to enjoy your suffering. You enjoy what I let you enjoy.”

You gulp thickly, searching his eyes for softness. But it’s nothing but lust staring back at you, he wants to see you completely submitting. When he finally sees it, he pushes you so you’re laid back. His hands grab your ankles and move them, your knees bent towards your chest. You let out a moan as he pulls your hips closer to the edge. 

As if going without him physically these last couple of months haven’t been torture enough, now to have him he is playing games like this. But as he said, as he always did, you only get what he gives you. 

Your skirt is bunched up to expose your panty clad mound. A small, damp spot prominent. He grins with pleasure to see that you still get turned on quickly, he has missed seeing that pussy glisten for him and only him. 

Bishop releases your legs to let them open more. He moves a hand down to let a finger press against your clit. An audible gasp comes from you as the bundles of nerves cascade a euphoric feeling throughout your body. He immediately sees your body respond to his touch, grinning he does it again. After a few moments, toying with your clothed pussy, he removes your panties and sighs in content to feel your folds directly.

He wanted to drag this out slowly and watch your squirm for him but seeing as it was 68 days ago since he’s seen, touched, tasted or fucked this kitty of yours, he himself grew both impatient and harder too. 

“You let anyone else touch you lately?” He asks while his fingers work that sensitive bud, smearing the arousal that begins to drip from your opening. With your eyes closed and head tilted back, you shake your head side to side. He grins knowing that you’ve been limited to pleasing yourself, he hasn’t been cellibute though. And you knew this. The thought briefly disgusted  you but is quickly diminished as Bishop leans over your body, pulling your top down to take a nipple into his mouth. 

There is no telling where he plans to take this but all you know is that you won’t last much longer either. Bishop swirls his tongue around the hardened bud as your juices coat his fingers that have now moved down to your entrance, toying and teasing. Your hips buck in frustration before he pushes two fingers into you, your walls constricting around him.

His cock restraining in his pants. Bishop moves his hand to finger you as if you were two teens in highschool behind the gym bleachers. He groans as he feels you squirm under his touch.

“O-oh my g-god. I missed this, I missed you fingers inside me. Please make me cum.” You whine as your hips bucking have picked up a messy pace, desperately trying to chase a release. He only gives you a wicked smile before disappearing, you move your head to watch him pull the chair to sit on. He scoots forward and dives in to lick a stripe along your glistening cunt. “Fuck!” 

Your hand flies over your mouth as you know it’s not entirely sound proof in this room.

His mouth working through your folds, his tongues attacking your clit. Two things are most true in this world: There is an end to it and Obispo Losa eats pussy better than anyone. His lips close around your clit, lapping all your juices like the perro he is. 

Bishop eats you out like he’s been wandering a desert for the last month or two, desperately. He keeps his mouth on you as he works his fingers into you, bringing you on the brink of cumming, your legs beginning to tremble as you muffle your moans.

Then like a rubber band that had been stretched to max capacity, the coil snaps and you are cumming harshly. Your hands are in his hair, pulling and holding his head down. But it becomes all too much as the orgasm rips through you. Your body begins to squirm and legs trying to close but he won’t let up, “P-please, Bish, I can’t take it.”

To no avail, he keeps on eating you out. It’s all too much to handle, your body breaking and a gush of warm liquids starts coming out of you. Bishops chuckles in pleasure. You squirt onto his chest and he pulls away, happy to have achieved his goal. You let out a held-in breath for trying to keep the sound to a minimum. 

He stands and unbuckles his belt, his hard member ready to be released in those constraints and ready to be squeezed by your walls. You're barely catching your breath when you feel the tip of his dick pressing through your folds. A whine escapes you as he pushes your legs open to settle in between. Without so much as a warning, he is inside you, seething himself as deep as he can. 

The feeling of being surrounded by your slick, tight walls again is a moment he has been silently praying for. No other woman has satisfied him the way you always have. The way he fits perfectly snug inside of you and how your body falls prey to his touch is a weakness he’d get on his knees for  every single day to have. 

Bishop finally starts to move in and out, he holds onto your thighs as his hips find a steady and rhythmic pace. The more the pace picks up, the more audible your skins slapping together becomes. He tips his head back, eyes closed and mouth agape, “Fuck yes. I’ve missed this pussy.”

You groan, a hand resting on his clothed torso. You’ve tilted your head forward to watch his hips slap into yours. With you still being sensitive you aren’t far behind another orgasm, it’s creeping up on you. And by the way Bishops face is contort, he isn’t either. 

He holds onto you tighter as the tightening of his sack begins and he is grunting while his hips falter, seed being spilled into you and coating every inch of your walls. The snap again and you are clenching around him, he pushes himself all the way into you and falls on top of you. His face resting in the crook of your neck. You have your hands resting above his exposed ass, soaking in the feeling of him on you. 

A moment too long passes before he finally sits up, now dramatically softer, and pulls out of you. He tucks himself away and buckles his pants while you scoot off the table getting yourself squared away. Bishop looks at you as you pat down hair that is sticking out in all kinds of directions. He wipes your smeared lipstick from your chin, his hand cupping your cheek. A gleaming look in his eyes. 

Without breaking eye contact, he reaches for the pen. Bishop moves to open the folder and flips throughout the pages to initial and sign where needed. For a small moment, you thought he’d ask to talk, that brief moment you just shared screamed I’m still here, I still want you.

The pen glides across the paper with no hesitation.

“Back to Y/N Y/L/N by Monday.” He looks at you once more before letting the pen fall. As he walks towards the door you feel the walls crashing in on you that have worked so hard to build up. A shutter runs through your body as you collect the folder and pen, wiping any tears and diminishing any hope you walked in here with.  

[angelreyesgirl-deactivated20210]

Are we really blaming nails for *Angel's* unhealthy coping mechanism?

That’s what I’m saying! Her only fault is falling for someone because from her mannerisms I truly get the feeling she has feelings for him and he obviously is using her because he doesn’t know how to deal with the loss of his son/Adelita and all the shit that went down with Felipe and finding out who really had a hand in killing his mom. Get your head out of your ass Angel before ya hurt the poor girl!

[losolvidad0s]

I agree! She has feelings for him, how she grabs his face when they were gettin in and also the fact that she was buzzing his hair, from my understanding most girls wouldn’t do gf/wife things for someone they just sleeping with. Poor girl got sucked into the trance of our papas 🥵🤚🏽👀

[thedevilsmoonshine]

bishop losa >> beard appreciation

[losolvidad0s]

PAPIIIII

[losolvidad0s]

Loved the new chapter and omg what is angel going to show Lina I can’t wait!!!

Ahhh thank you! I was so nervous to post because I wasn’t sure if people would like it :( I appreciate it!