#bishop losa x ofc

[artemiseamoon]

Rewatching one of my old favs (to finish Death Kiss) and all I see now is Bishop 😂

I’m at the motel scene now, and it’s all Bish & Blu in my mind.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Lost & Found - A Guero (Mayans MC)/OC Story.

Okay, okay! I cave to the demand and the excitement I have warmly received from you all. Here you go, darlings. First chapter is here. I can’t promise I will be posting the second next week just in case I want to do ANOTHER deep dive into the editing, but since I am just over halfway through writing it now, I thought I would at least post the first. 

Story is somewhat canon, with a few changes here and there to suit my artistic vision... i.e. I kicked canon in the ass and told her to go home, hahaha! Oh, I also gave Guero a surname, too! I tried to keep him as true to who we see on screen, but obviously since we didn’t get him for long, some of his characterisations are of my creation. Don’t like it? Don’t read. Simple as that. 

Nervously and excitedly awaiting your feedback, eeek! :)

Words - 3,834

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, Minors DNI. Recounts of kidnap, child trafficking, physical/verbal/sexual abuse in the coming chapters. 

Unknown numbers. Ezekiel Reyes often received more than he wished to endure upon the burner phone he used for club business. Regularly they were legitimate, but occasionally telemarketers, such annoyances he simply hung up on instantly. While walking from his trailer to the clubhouse, he expected the call coming in to be that of nuisance, 11am seemingly the call centre worker bee’s peak time to bother him about his long-distance courier needs, or savings on his energy bills.  

It was no telemarketer, but he almost disconnected the call all the same in sheer disbelief.  

“Ezekiel Reyes?”

“Who wants to know?” His journey across the yard was undisturbed, watching as Bottles and Nestor took in an alcohol delivery, a nearby Guero and Downer giving them the usual offering of shit talk.

“Rocco Lombardi.”  

He stopped dead in his tracks. The Rocco Lombardi was reaching out to him? Nah.

“This your idea of a joke?”  

He heard a deep chuckle filter down the line. “I’m more of a knock knock, who’s there kinda fella.” Remaining paused, he thought whoever it was had at least nailed the thick, New Jersey accent. He had to give them props for that, he guessed. “Listen, you got FaceTime, I take it?”  

“I do, but...” The line cut dead. Five seconds later and sure enough, a FaceTime call came in. EZ nearly fell over when there on the screen, appeared the face of the big boss, the notorious and famed king of the mafia. There he was; the head of the biggest, most powerful crime family on earth. Rocco Lombardi.  

“That better?”  

He raised his eyebrows, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. “Yeah, the confirmation is appreciated.”

“Good. Now not for nothin’, but I can’t fuckin’ stand video calls, encrypted or not. I’ll call you back.” Once again, the call disconnected, the cell ringing after a few moments. All the while EZ could feel his ego swelling, realising truly how far he’d come in his leadership that he was being sought out by someone of such standing within the criminal underworld. He was nothing short of surprised when he eventually found out why, though.

He’d always believed that the code of La Cosa Nostra forbade their operations to extend into the realms of drug trafficking. To be specific, he’d assumed it stemmed from reasons of mortality, perhaps a skewed sense of Catholic guilt, when in fact, the commoner explanation was far simpler.  

The prospect of a lengthier prison sentence, of course, increased the propensity of their members turning upon the organisation, becoming government informants in order to secure a more lenient custodial term. When the federal carrot is dangled before a desperate man, one looking at forty years when his assistance could mean all he ends up serving is ten to fifteen, tongues tend to be loosened.  

Rats out themselves, major players are taken off the streets and ultimately, the government wins.  It would be very reasonable to assume that the code is in place for this very reason, to prevent such catastrophic damage within their organisation and family infrastructure. The risk is not worth the payout. Or rather, it is bendable to the point of unrecognition when those doing said bending can earn a substantial profit.  

Enter Rocco Lombardi and his proposition.

“I think we could mutually benefit from the blending of your organisation with mine, Mr Reyes.” Lombardi was intelligent enough to be concise, even when speaking upon the relative safety of a burner phone. He hadn’t gotten to the top because he was sloppy. Lombardi had sat at the very head of the hierarchy for years, after all. He was hailed as the boss of all bosses for a reason.  

They’d once given John Gotti the monicker of Teflon Don, because nothing ever stuck to him in the way of evidence to bring about charges. That was until his own underboss has turned on him, the evidence given at trial by Salvatore “Sammy the Bull” Gravano leading to his incarceration. Truly, if there was one overlord within the organised crime world who lacked cohesion, it was the man who ruled the Romano crime family with an iron fist.

EZ Reyes had launched into thoroughly researching Lombardi after his reaching out to him, learning the ins and out of his character, how much of a slippery customer he was, how – and it went without saying – he would use people as pawns to further his own reach and agenda. It went without saying because it was the way of his own world, too. Within his MC, he went about the very same, albeit on a much smaller scale.  

Rocco Lombardi’s reach was, to put it simply, enormous. EZ and his VP would be lying if they’d have claimed that bearing such in mind, it hadn’t piqued their curiosity over what on earth he could want with a Californian based MC. For all intents and purposes, the man had his operations not merely sewn up tightly, but steel reinforced.  

“All I know is we gotta play it carefully, mano,” Bishop had sagely advised prior to their leaving Santo Padre to for a face to face with the mafioso legend, Rocco insisting that a larger MC presence not assemble in the interests of it remaining nothing short of clandestine. “Our worlds might be similar, but the mafia play by an entirely different set of rules. I ain’t saying you’re not smart enough to outsmart the guy, but he’s the kind who will have thought three moves ahead before we’ve even stepped foot into that hotel suite.”  

EZ had sipped his beer, narrowed eyes unmoving as he’d absorbed the words of the former president with all the credence they deserved. Bishop had, after all, been approached by the mafia before. His reasons for turning down an offer from a different crime family had been solid in their validity, and EZ knew he would be a fool to let this warning go unheeded. Especially since the club were on their knees where their drug trade was concerned. He also knew that somehow, Rocco likely knew this, too.  

The mafia tended to have ears in the very last places one might expect them to extend. He also knew that they preferred to keep their operations within the Italian American brotherhood if they could at all help it, so the need for an alliance was somewhat even in its beneficial mutuality.  

“I guess we just have to wait and see what this sit down entails.” Truly, it was all they could do.  

The time passed quickly between then and the two of them riding through the strip, both separately feeling the mist of apprehension gather, until they were parking up at the hotel and casino they were scheduled to meet Lombardi at, their demeanours switching to cool composure before they’d even entered the building.

The two men dressed in denim, flannel and leather looked out of place as they strode across the foyer of the MGM Grand, the buzz and tacky decadence of Las Vegas swirling all around them. Gamblers bet it all, slot machines flashed in frenzy while spitting out endless streams of coins, and alcohol flowed without restriction, certainly enough to keep it so the house always won.  

Would it be their own win he was sealing, EZ thought while waiting for the elevator, or was this the biggest and most uncertain gamble the club were about to make to date? He guessed the next few hours would tell, whether or not he was about to be presented with a winning hand.  

The ding of the elevator roused him, both stepping inside, Bishop pressing the button for the tenth floor. EZ stared straight ahead at his reflection in the shiny metal of the elevator doors, noting the haunted veil that hung over his features. Shadowy eyes and skin bearing many more lines than a man in his mid-thirties should do were now his staple in appearance, a few further flecks of grey in his hair also.

Ezekiel Reyes was a man barely holding it together, but his demeanour did not give away the tumult that gnawed at his guts and yanked at his nerves, even if it had seemed to age him five years in just over seven months. His control was as unquestionable as it was unshakable, even in the dark times his club was currently under the duress of. He would never, ever let the toll it was taking upon him show.  

He was in Vegas, after all. Home of the poker face.  

The man at his side, though? He saw through the veil. He knew. In the interests of helping him glue back together the smashed fragments of the MC, he chose to keep his observances to himself. When he’d reigned supreme, if someone had pointed out his weak points, he would have shown no magnanimity in return. He knew better than to antagonise. Bishop Losa was nothing if not tactile these days, with how much delicacy teetered upon a knife’s edge, how much was at stake.  

The elevator shunted to a stop, the doors gliding open, the men exchanging a look and a nod before they exited, walking in step down the long hallway. Coming to a stop in front of room eight one five, EZ reached to knock, his arm suddenly grasped, preventing the rap of knuckles upon the sleek, white enamel.

“Whatever goes down in there, I got you.” Bishop’s words were delivered with a solemn nod, EZ returning it before knocking the door. They stood tall as they waited, unflinching, rock-like in their demeanour, the door opening to reveal a slight yet menacing looking man in an expensive suit. He eyed up the two men standing before him, his lips pursing slightly as he stood back to allow their entrance.  

“Guns on the table.”  

EZ’s brow knitted. “The fuck?”

“You heard me, stronzo. Guns. On. The. Table.”  

Neither man took well to his condescending delivery, both irked at the display of what they considered to be one hell of a chip upon his shoulder. EZ was just about to offer his retort when a voice came from further within the suite.

“Stop playing rottweiler and let my guests in, Mario. If we’re armed, so can they be, too.” Immediately, he stood aside at the instruction of his boss, a large, dark-haired man rising from his seat at the dining table, two armed men stationed in opposing corners of the suite. “My apologies. This one here, he can be a hot head, y’know?”

Although seemingly personable right off the bat, there was an aura surrounding Rocco Lombardi that virtually crackled with menace. His ‘thou shalt not fuck with me’ demeanour was beyond palpable. “Take a seat, fellas. Can I offer either of youse a drink?”

EZ’s eyes flitted around the room, taking in every detail. He stored it all on the internal hard drive that was his brain, his guard up as naturally it should have been. “No, thank you.”

Rocco took the rebuff in his stride, gesturing to the chairs opposite as he sat again. “A man who likes to get straight down to business. I can appreciate that.” Down to business was exactly how it went, no pleasantries, no idle chatter. Rocco cut right to the chase.

“My proposition is simple, Ezekiel. My current methods in transportation of product are, shall we say, attracting more attention than myself and my associates are comfortable with, y’know? I need to implement a one stop solution. I also need a far more financially viable method of my product crossing the border from Mexico than I’m currently paying through the fucking nose for.”  

Bribes. Of course, Lombardi meant bribing the border control, an exercise EZ knew likely cost fortunes, cutting into a profit margin the mafia were probably tired of having bites taken out of. “This is where the MC comes in, youse and your tunnel.” EZ’s eyebrow twitched, just a fraction, Rocco smirking at the tell.  

“Yeah, I know all about it. Ain’t many places my ears don’t have reach. I want that tunnel as a new channel to move my product across the border, which then will be transferred to the Port of San Diego, to a designated shipping container the day it ports. You unload into the container, minus your personal cut that will ensure you keep the monopoly on supply within the Californian correctional facilities, and you also get a nice little monetary injection for you and your boys on a monthly basis. How’s that sound?”

EZ took a moment to ponder, his fingers knitting before him on the table, arm muscles flexing as he shared a sideways glance with Bishop. “Sounds like there’s a catch.”  

Rocco smirked, taking a long puff on his cigar, his eyes twinkling through the thick plumes of smoke as he leaned back in his chair. “You move two tons at a time. That is non-negotiable.”  

Two fucking tons every month. Holy mother of god. Before they’d even entered that room, they of course knew the reach of the Romano crime family, that it was extensive. Worldwide, even. Two tons of heroin every four weeks truly hammered home just how far Lombardi’s tentacles reached within the criminal underworld. The risks associated with that were unfathomable, EZ lifting his chin, his poker face firmly set once more. “I’m gonna need to see a number, the nice little monetary injection you speak of.”  

Rocco reached into the pocket of his suit, removing a pen, taking a napkin from the table before him and scribing a number upon it, sliding it across the polished wood. Upon viewing it, EZ’s well trained blank façade slid south quickly, showing it to Bishop.  

“Jesus fucking Christ.”  

His quiet exclamation was no understatement over the amount of zero’s scrawled upon the napkin.  

“I assume you know of our current difficulties with the LNG?”

The tall man nodded. “Quite a fucking pasticcio youse have gotten yourself into, eh?” His smile widened suddenly, slowly drawing his thumb and forefinger from the corners of his mouth down to the centre of his lip. “If you do the first shipment for free, I can take care of that, as well as your issues with the knuckleheaded, heavy arms wielding fuck heads you got yourselves caught up in, too.” He hissed a breath over his teeth, shaking his head. “Fentanyl, gentleman. What a risky business that is.”

What in the fuck didn’t this man know about their operations? EZ was all but surprised that Rocco wasn’t clued in on the colour of his underwear by that point, the man seemingly well informed, his intel even extending to knowing about their deal with Cole.  

He rose to his feet, jerking his head towards the balcony. “If you could give myself and my VP a moment?”  

Rocco made a passive motion with his hand, nodding. “Sure, take your time.”  

They strode across the suite, wallet chains rattling and leather creaking the only sounds to permeate the silence of the room, EZ sliding the glass door open. The warm Vegas air hit him, his eyes narrowing as he looked out over the luminosity of the strip, thousands upon thousands of lights twinkling. They glittered a promise of wealth and prosperity hinged upon a gamble, which was exactly what Rocco Lombardi was offering up to them.

“You have to back me on this when we take it to the table. The risk is massive, and I appreciate that, but this? This is our way out of it all. Our way out and our ladder to climb back to the top.”

Bishop considered the words of his president as he pulled out his cigarettes, lighting one up. A massive risk; fuck, that was putting it lightly. It was a fool’s errand, in short, transporting such a colossal consignment of heroin. The pay off, though? If they could execute each run flawlessly, it would be beyond worth it. Santo Padre would be back on top, and the Mayans kings of California.  

He wanted with everything he had to back EZ, but something persistent tugged at him deep in his guts. The old adage ‘too good to be true’ echoed through his mind. There had to be another catch. For all appearances, said catch appeared to be the two tons of narcotics, the kind of consignment that would mean the MC would never see the outside of a prison for the remainder of their lives, should they be caught moving it. However, he felt there was another shoe yet to drop from Lombardi’s perspective.  

Conflict rose in him like an unpleasant tempest, knowing that they were stuck between a rock and a hard place. Take the deal and shoulder an enormous risk or walk away from it and try to seek a way out of their mess alone. Being in the pocket of the mafia was a dangerous location, he knew that; they both knew that. In this instance, no matter how much trepidation he felt, he had to concede that Lombari’s offer was very much the lesser of two evils.  

Still, it didn’t prevent him voicing the concern. “I feel like there’s something extra he’s gonna have us on the hook for further down the road.” Taking a deep drag on his cigarette, he turned to his president, brows furrowed, his head shaking softly. “I wanna back you, but I don’t trust him.”

Neither did EZ, if he was honest. “We don’t need to trust him. We need to make ourselves indispensable to him. The weight of his organisation has the power to break us completely, and I’d be an idiot if I didn’t see that, Bish. We gotta remember that he’s coming to us because he needs this symbiosis too. If he had any other plan to move his product, he’d have exacted it by now. What he’s offering us in payment solidifies that. He needs to lock the MC down.”  

He took a breath, his eyes once again focusing on the lights below. “And our backs are against the kind of wall we can’t break alone. Rocco Lombardi can not only break that wall, he can obliterate it completely. We can’t refuse.”

Upon their return to Santo Padre, an immediate templo was called, the proposition repeated, a vote cast. It was, just as EZ had anticipated, a unanimous yes. Hell, it wasn’t like any of the men assembled around the table hadn’t known that extreme danger was exactly what he was signing up for, and this was about a risky as it got.

Moving heroin two tons at a time for the mafia was the height of hazardous endeavours, but the payoff would elicit the kind of money and power they had been striving for. Sure, they were still ultimately under someone else’s thumb, but in the world of the MC, Santo Padre rose like the phoenix from the proverbial ashes. If they were careful and exercised caution, they would remain risen, too.  

The operation was undertaken with military precision. The two tons of heroin were moved through the tunnels from one side of the border to the other, then stowed away down there for a day before the Mayans arrived, loading one ton into each van. The vehicles both then hit the road, two members within, two members upon motorcycles escorting at the front and rear, and EZ leading the way.  

They drove far enough apart not to attract the attention that such a closely assembled convoy likely would, with EZ a quarter of a mile in front, so he could warn of any upcoming complications that might lead to said convoy needing to peel off the freeway. Since the run was done at 2am, the risk of such was minimised greatly, yet still they always prepared for the worst-case scenario. This is why two vans were utilized, when all it truly took was one. If one broke down, then there they were, stuck with a life sentence cargo on the side of the freeway, rather than another means to continue their journey.

Arriving at the port, EZ gave the usual nod to the guard, a guard whose pockets had been nicely lined with mafia cash, who would duly send another of his team down to the container as soon as the Mayans left, standing guard until the cargo was loaded onto a vessel bound either for New York or the far east the following morning. Yes, the tentacles of Rocco Lombardi even reached over to the Yakuza, the Japanese criminal organisation taking two tons of product off his hands on a bi-monthly basis.  

The shipment they were about to offload on that particular night was heading straight back to New York, the guys all assembling, the usual banter firing back and forth.  

Downer, of course, was at the epicentre of it. “Hey, I thought there was meant to be whores on the dockside? That’s a thing, ain’t it? We’ve been here four times before now and no damned pussy anywhere.”

Angel lit a cigarette, raising his eyebrows. “Man, where the fuck you get that from?”

“He’s right,” Hank chimed in, “but about a couple hundred years out of date. Hookers used to frequent the docks back in the eighteen, nineteen hundreds. Gave lots of navy men who’d been at sea for months at a time a rampant case of the syph.”  

Guero couldn’t help himself. “Eighteen hundreds. Back in your youth, huh bro?” He was shot a look of pure distain from Downer, his chirp continuing. “I bet you’d like the crotch rot. You’re a sick enough individual to probably be into it.”

“It’s his kink. Itchy balls and a putrid cock, man,” Bottles interjected with, earning a snort laugh from Guero and an incredulous stare from Downer.  

Aggressively delivered middle fingers were raised. “Fuck you and fuck you even fuckin’ harder!”

Bottles grinned at the rise he’d gotten. “You wish.”  

“You’re getting way too smart with that fuckin’ yap of yours, prospect,” he snorted, pointing at Guero. “Been spending too much time with him and his big mouth.”

The man himself beamed, pulling his hood up. “What can I say?” He held his arms in wide expression, his smirk growing. “I’m infectious. Like your cock, just way less scabby.” He received a boot in the ass as he turned, heading straight over to the yellow container and hauling the levers to open it. What he expected to see within were the usual lines of packing cases into which they would load their cargo, with a specially marked one housing their cash.  

The last thing he expected to see was the body of a dishevelled looking blonde girl with a gash upon her head, lying there out cold, and the marked case notably empty of its usual stack of bills.  

“Uh, guys?” he called, appearing back around the container door as his brothers were carrying cargo across from the vans. “We got a situation in here.”  

[garbinge]

The Middle Reyes Sister

Collection of one shots of middle sister OFC Manny Reyes.

Tribute - Angel Reyes & EZ Reyes & OC Manny Reyes

Family Night - Ez Reyes & Angel Reyes & Sister!OC Manny Reyes

Siblings - Angel Reyes  & OC Manny Reyes

Break in - Bishop Losa x OC Manny Reyes 

[drabbles-mc]

Unannounced

Bishop Losa x OFC

Warnings: 18+, light angst

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: i don't know what this is. i cannot articulate how much i don't know what it is lmao. i had like??? 700 words of this written a long long time ago. reopened the doc. reread it. had no idea what i wanted to do with it so i just stream-of-consciousness'd the rest of it and here we are. Bishop and his long-lost high school sweetheart.

Mayans Taglist: @withmyteeth @just1bri @kelpies-shed @queenbeered @louisianalady @gemini0410 @paintballkid711 @fanfic-n-tabulous @littlekittymeow @buckybarneshairpullingkink @mijagif @garbinge @beardburnsupersoldiers @justreblogginfics @rosieposie0624 @choochoo284 @proceduralpassion @winchestershiresauce @frattsparty @nessamc @crowfootwrites @artemiseamoon @justazzi @danzer8705 @darqchilddaydreamz @camelia35 (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

When Bishop rolled into his driveway to see a car already parked there, he instantly felt himself getting defensive. With everything that had been going on with the club, unexpected visitors didn’t seem to spell out anything but bad news. He felt each muscle throughout his body start to tighten as he cut the engine on his bike and dropped the kickstand.

The car wasn’t one that he recognized. It had California plates, but there was nothing really all that notable about it. No bumper stickers, no dents or scratches. Just slightly dusty black paint on the SUV. He didn’t see the silhouette of anyone sitting inside it, or standing on either side. If the car was simply dropped off in his driveway that only made the entire scene more suspicious.

He left his helmet on the seat of his bike before walking up towards his house. He gripped the gun tightly by his side, but made sure to keep it lowered. His neighbors were accepting enough, but he didn’t want to go waving his gun around and ruin that if this all turned out to be nothing.

It wasn’t until he was almost in front of the car that he saw who had arrived in it. He froze in his tracks, painfully aware of how unnecessary his gun was but feeling like he was unable to try and move to put it back into its holster.

She looked up from the phone that was in her hand. Long, loose waves of brown hair fell in front of her shoulder as she turned her head to look at him. The small smile that seemed to almost always be present on her face stretched wider when she took in the sight of Bishop in front of her.

“Bispo,” she said, excitement palpable in her voice as she shoved her phone into the pocket of her jeans. In two long strides she closed the distance between them, pulling him into a hug without hesitation.

Bishop desperately wanted to hug her back, but he felt like his arms were glued to his side. His locked muscles were partially from the shock of the entire situation, but it was also because it felt so far beyond wrong to try and hug her back when he had a gun clutched in his hand.

“Mia,” he finally forced out her name in turn.

If she was off-put by the fact that he didn’t return her embrace, she didn’t show it. Stepping back, she took another long look at him. It was impossible to miss the way that he finally got his hands cooperating enough to hurriedly tuck his gun away, but she didn’t comment on it. So much time had passed since they’d last seen each other. There were so many other things to try to process and focus on. They were practically children the last time that they stood in front of each other the way that they were now.

“Look at you,” she said with a soft laugh. Unable to stop herself, she reached out and traced her fingers along the stubble that was starting to come in on his cheeks—five o’clock shadow that was getting just a little too unruly to still carry the name. He’d hardly been able to grow facial hair the last time she’d seen him, and now there were flecks of gray throughout. She wondered how so much time had managed to pass between them.

From the warmth of her fingertips to the slight scratch of her nails as she pulled her hand away, Bishop found himself nearly leaning into the sensation, not wanting it to disappear so soon. He managed to catch himself, clearing his throat as he started to study her almost as closely as she’d studied him.

“Look at you,” he finally said back with a chuckle.

Looking at her was all Bishop could manage to do. Whatever she had gotten up to in the meantime, it treated her well. The years were easier on her than they had been on him. She had the laugh and smile lines of someone who had experienced plenty of joy in his absence.

“Sorry to barge in on you like this.” Her smile was warm, but Bishop could see that she wasn’t too sorry. He wasn’t either.

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

Looking over his shoulder, she glanced back at the bike parked at the bottom of the driveway. Last time that she saw Bishop, Marcus had been the only one out of the two of them who had a kutte. Hell, he’d been the only one out of the two of them who had a motorcycle. She saw the Presidente patch stitched onto Bishop’s chest and it briefly crossed her mind that she couldn’t possibly fathom what he’d been up to in the decades since they last saw each other.

She nodded towards the motorcycle. “Marcus was actually the one who went me your way.”

Bishop raised his eyebrows slightly, surprised not just that Marcus had told her where to find him, but also that his cousin hadn’t reached out to give him a heads-up. “Oh yea?”

“Was surprised to hear that you both left Oakland,” she remarked.

“Mm,” Bishop hummed in thought, stalling as he tried to figure out how to respond to that. “I don’t think either of us really planned on it.” His expression shifted, confusion going across his face for a moment before he smiled again. “You got out before either of us did anyway.”

“I didn’t get out, Bispo,” she laughed with a shake of her head. “I went to school.”

“Same thing,” he joked.

She rolled her eyes but there was still a smile on her face. “Yea, because getting shipped overseas wasn’t your attempt at getting out at all.”

He shook his head but he didn’t try to argue with her. He’d forgotten a lot over the years, but standing there in his driveway looking at her, for a moment he was nineteen all over again. Some of the details were muddy still, but there was plenty that he remembered from back then. Like the way that both of them were trying to get out of Oakland for a bit, but they were getting out and going in complete opposite directions.

“What had you calling Marcus, anyway?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Wasn’t calling Marcus.” She saw his brows knit together and she laughed. “Izzy and I are still friends, you know.”

“Oh yea?” he asked, smiling at the thought of that.

“Yea. Your name came up in one of our last conversations.”

“Doesn’t usually?” he said with a smirk.

Mia shook her head but she still laughed. “Funny, hm? That we have other things to talk about besides you after all these years?”

Bishop chuckled. “That doesn’t seem right.” They both laughed for a moment before he asked, “How’d it come up this time?”

Her smile faltered for the first time since she’d seen him. Bishop could feel the weight dropping onto his chest. “She mentioned that she was worried about you.”

He scoffed, trying not to let himself get too defensive. Not with her. “That’s all it took to get you down here after all this time?”

Mia laughed, but there was a touch of sadness to it. “Well,” she reached out and rested her palm against his chest, fingertips dragging over the small patches stitched into his kutte, “she said that she was worried about me too. Thought it might be helpful for the both of us.”

Worry creased his brows. “What happened?”

She shook her head. “Nada. Don’t worry about it.”

Bishop chuckled. A lot of things had changed over the years. Some things clearly hadn’t. “Mentirosa,” he said, a small smile on his face as he did.

“No,” she said, flashing a quick grin as she pointed at him. “It’s just not what we’re talking about right now.”

“Right,” he dragged the word out, smiling despite himself.

Mia watched him as he pulled a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his kutte. He flipped it open, pulling one out and placing it between his lips. She was still smiling as she shook her head at him.

The click of his lighter preceded her saying, “Bad habit.”

He laughed and puffed out a cloud of smoke in the process. “It’s the best of my bad habits these days, sweetheart.” He tilted the pack towards her, eyebrows raised to solidify the offer.

There was a long moment of silence between them as Mia looked back and forth between Bishop and the pack of cigarettes in his hand. Letting out a deep sigh, she reached and pulled one out. Bishop managed a laugh around the cigarette between his lips as she leaned in and allowed him to light it for her.

“Still a bad influence, Bispo,” she joked.

“Still don’t have to work that hard at it either,” he fired right back with a smile.

She leaned back against her car again, crossing one leg in front of the other as she did. Her cigarette was perched so delicately between her two fingers. If Bishop didn’t know any better he’d say that she hadn’t given it up at all. Small tendrils of smoke swirled from between her lips as she looked at him, each of them waiting for the other to say something more.

As far as Bishop was concerned, he would’ve been perfectly happy to just stand there in the driveway and look at her. Too many years had gone by without him being able to do that. He should’ve called. He knew that he should’ve called. When he got back after his first enlistment was up and found out that she was still long gone, he never made any effort to reach out. Back then, when he was young and stupid, it’d partially been an angry thing. If she was so content to just leave then why would he try and chase her down? Even back then he knew that that wasn’t a fair assessment. Looking back on it now, he still knew it wasn’t fair, but he also thought that maybe it was for the best given how everything had played out. Or maybe not. Maybe if she had been there when he got back everything would’ve been different.

He watched her tap the ashes from the end of her cigarette. His eyes followed them all the way down as they fell to the ground. He took his time bringing his gaze back up to her face, trying to make a note of everything about her. He wondered how long she was going to stay, how long it was going to be before he saw her again after she left.

“You’re still in Oakland, then?” he asked, breaking the silence.

She nodded, pulling a drag off her cigarette. “I am.”

“Doing everything you ever wanted?”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Are any of us?” She exhaled a stream of smoke. “It’s good.”

“Yea?” he asked, clearly not believing her.

She pried her eyes up from his driveway until she was level with his gaze. “It is, it is. Most of the time, anyway.” Even though she was looking at Bishop, she was absent-mindedly running her thumb along the ring finger of her left hand. “It’s been a rough few months, Obispo.”

His eyes flicked down to her hand for a moment. She wasn’t wearing a ring, but there was a feeling in his gut that told him that she used to be. He wasn’t brave enough to ask what happened. A bit selfish, too, because he knew for a fact that he wouldn’t know how to respond no matter what her answer was.

“Got you down here, though,” he finally said.

Her smile was small, but genuine nonetheless “It did.”

“Come on.” He nodded towards the front door of the house as he dropped his cigarette on the ground. “I’ll make coffee or something.”

She nodded, snubbing what little was left of her cigarette out with the tip of her boot. She didn’t say anything, but she stepped away from her car with a smile as she followed Bishop up to his front door. He didn’t know why he felt almost jittery as he slipped the key into the lock. Pushing the door open, he motioned for her to step in first, which she did with a quiet laugh and a nod in thanks.

“If Marcus told me I was gonna have company,” he said with a chuckle, “I would’ve cleaned or something.”

Mia laughed, shaking her head as she watched him close and lock the door behind him. “Now who’s lying, hm?”

His shoulders shook as he tried to bite back his laughter. She saw the way his lips twitched as he attempted not to smile at her comment, knowing that she was right. He gestured towards the kitchen. “Coffee?”

She nodded. “Please.” She watched him as he went over and started to fill the pot with water. She perched herself on the edge of the small table that was set up at the edge of his kitchen. “Bispo?”

His eyes were focused on what he was doing, but he turned his head just enough to let her know that he heard her. “Mhm?”

“I know it’s been a while,” her voice had a precarious balance between humor and heaviness, “but I can promise you’re not going to need the gun with me.”

He let out a long exhale through his nose at her words, shoulders sagging as he registered them all one after the other. Shutting off the sink, he turned the rest of the way so that he could look at her. She looked as sweet as she ever had. He was hoping that she hadn’t noticed. Or if she’d noticed, that she wouldn’t say anything. He should’ve known better.

“Sorry.”

She shook her head. “It’s alright. I know…” her voice trailed off for a moment. “Well, maybe I don’t know. But,” she shrugged, “I can only imagine.”

He started the pot of coffee, disappearing out of the kitchen for a moment. Mia listened and she could hear a faint clattering sound. Her body relaxed. When he came back to the kitchen, there was still a bit of an apologetic look on his face.

“That what this is all about, then?” he asked her as he grabbed a mug from the cabinet for each of them.

“There’s no,” she gestured vaguely with her hands for a moment as she tried to come up with the right words, “all this.” She searched his face for answers that she wasn’t finding. “I’m sorry if it’s too much. Maybe I should’ve called. But I thought if I did, you would—”

“I’m sorry,” he cut her off, his voice heavy but sincere. “I’m sorry. I’m,” he nodded, looking at the floor for a moment before he looked back up at her again, “glad you’re here. I just…”

“Wish it was a little different?” she offered.

He let out a hollow chuckle. “Somethin’ like that.”

“I understand that,” she told him with a nod. “But this is what we have, hm?”

He nodded slowly. “It is.”

“Feel like catching me up on a few things?” she asked, a warm smile creeping back onto her face.

It got Bishop to crack a small grin in return. “Maybe a couple.”

She smiled a little wider at that, arms folding comfortably across her chest as the coffee pot beeped. “Good.”

[the-purity-pen]

Exception to the Rules

[ all images/gifs in banner not my own. editing done by me. ]

Pairing: Bishop Losa x Sex Worker!Fem!Reader x OFC

Valeria Santos (Tessa Thompson FaceClaim) - Lawyer

Rating: PG Warnings: one use of “girl” in the story, mentions of blood/injuries, FEELINGS GALORE (rip my bisexual heart), sex work implied (WE RESPECT SEX WORKERS IN THIS HOUSE) Word Count: 1.6K A/N: okay. so i definitely set out to make this smutty. and it just didn’t happen. but this is a follow up to BREAK ALL THE RULES where we meet Valeria briefly. (i’m calling this the rules!verse) This dynamic has been really comforting to write as I figure out myself in the process. I’m hoping to get more smutty action with these three soon but first, THE FEELINGS. please enjoy!

Admitting you loved Bishop, out loud, to Bishop himself scared the crap out of you. The way he stayed silent after you had said it made you immediately regret bringing it up in the first place. You ended your time with him with an uncomfortable silence filling the room. He had gotten dressed, and although the two of you shared small awkward smiles, the silence still stung.

Bishop hadn’t come to see you in two weeks. At first, you were sad and missed him but recognized that you might have scared him. But as the days wore on and you saw every client except him, you started to feel anger. Anger at him for not even bothering to call. Anger with yourself for putting your heart on the line… again.

But the person you didn’t expect to lean on so much? Valeria.

The day after, when you saw her after what happened with Bishop, she knew something was up. She took the time to sit with you and let you talk. She listened intently as her fingers ran soft patterns over your skin, making goosebumps appear in their wake. She didn’t rush you into anything sexual, even though that’s what she was paying you to be there for.

She’d made appointments for three days straight rather than her usual once a week. When you asked her why she gave a slight shrug and said she wanted to make sure you were being taken care of. You realized then that maybe Bishop wasn’t the only one that you were in love with.

Was that possible? To be so in love with two people? Two people were supposed to be clients but realistically, were so much more? You lay with Valeria on the bed. Your legs were intertwined as her hand ran gently along your cheek, down your neck, to your shoulder, and down your arm before venturing back up the same way again. Again and again, she comforted you with her words and actions.

There was a comfortable silence before you lifted your gaze to look at her. Your hand came to the side of her face. Feeling the way she leaned into it made your heart nearly melt on the spot. You leaned in and captured her lips ever so gently against your own. You pressed your lips to hers in one, two, three more soft kisses before pulling back. Your eyes searched hers as her hand came to your face in an echoed movement. The two of you shared a quite moment of just soaking each other in..

Then the loud knock caused you both to jump. You bonked your heads and both groaned in pain. “Who the fuck is that?” Val grumbled, her hand leaving your face to rub at the sore spot on her head. You gave her a half frown before kissing the top of her head and sliding out from the bed.

“I don’t know,” you told her as you grabbed your black silk robe and wrapped it around yourself. You were adjusting the tie of it just as you reached the door and pulled it open. You lifted your head and froze, seeing Bishop standing just on the other side, the side of his face bloodied and bruised. “Jesus fucking Christ Bishop,” you gasped.

You pulled him in and closed the door behind you. Val made to cover herself up but noticed the injured man and jumped up, grabbing her shirt to slip on quickly. “Who’s this?” she asked as she hurried to his other side to help him sit on the large bench that sat at the end of the bed.

“Bishop, Valeria. Valeria, Bishop,” you said quickly as Bishop grunted when his ass hit the seat. There was more than just the facial injuries and you were suddenly very irritated that he had the audacity to show up hurt like this. To show up and make you feel sorry for him, care for him. After avoiding you for weeks. You turned and ran to the bathroom to grab some washcloths to wet them with warm water.

Val talked with Bishop to ask if he was okay that she helped. Bishop nodded and felt like his head was going to explode. You hurried back and handed one washcloth to Val and set to work on the other side of his face. You gently rubbed at the blood, cleaning up what you could so you could see where the injuries actually were.

When his face was cleared, you could see the gashes and marks that were the cause of the bleeding. You hovered closer to inspect and Bishop looked at you the best he could with one working eye while the other was swollen shut. You caught his gaze and sighed heavily.

“Who did you piss off?” you asked before turning to return to the attached bathroom to rinse the washcloths again and to grab some ointments. Val couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped her at your straightforward question. It was clear you and Bishop had some history.

Bishop scoffed but winced when Valeria’s towel covered hand came to a particular mark on his cheek just under his eye. “It was just a usual Thursday run but some fucker had to go and-” Bishop caught himself before he talked too much in front of Valeria.

You came to sit beside him again with the ointment in hand. Your put some on your finger before dabbing it onto his cheek. He hissed but you just sighed. “Stay still,” you told him and looked to Valeria. “Bishop’s … well, job… isn’t so glamorous,” you explained to her and Bishop let out a small huff.

You scoffed at him. “I’m not wrong,” you told him and Valeria nodded in understanding. She turned to Bishop with some of the ointment to get that big mark under his eye. He was a hissing, groaning mess as the two of you worked on his face.

A few hours later and the swelling in his face had gone down with help from the ice that you had gone to gather from the staff room down the hall. Val and Bishop got to talking in your absence and when you came back, you actually saw them laughing and smiling with each other.

“Well aren’t you two chummy now?” you jokingly asked as you joined them on the bed after using the restroom. Bishop was sat with his back against the headboard and legs straight out in front of him. Valeria was sat next to him, sat the same way. The two of them looked to you as you sat on the opposite side of Bishop.

You couldn’t help but lean into him as you adjusted yourself so Bishop took the opportunity to wrap his arm around you and hold you to him. You laughed and tried to push him but he hissed and you quickly apologized, realizing you must have hit another injury. “Sorry old man,” you laughed as you leaned into him more comfortably since he likely wasn’t letting you go again anyways.

“I’ve missed you querida,” he said as he leaned over and kissed the top of your head. Val watched the interaction between you two and smiled warmly.

“So this is the guy, huh?” Val asked and both you and Bishop looked at her at the same time. “The guy who you told you loved him and then avoided you for two weeks?” she continued and Bishop felt his chest deflate. His arm’s grip on you loosened and he pulled from you slightly.

You looked from Val to Bishop and back to Val with a soft sigh as you sat up. “Yes,” you said and Bishop felt his heart break. He didn’t mean to avoid you. His “work” just got super busy and he had to put out a few fires. Some of them literal. He hated that you thought he didn’t want to see you, that he was avoiding you just because you had told him you were in love with him.

“Lo siento mi dulzura,” he muttered as his head dropped. He chewed his lower hip before looking at you. “I hope you can forgive me?” he asked and you looked to him with sorrowful eyes. You nodded slowly. 

“Of course I do Bish,” you told him, your hand coming to his jaw. “I love you,” you said and felt your heart do a half flip. “But-” you looked over to Valeria and took her hand with your free hand. “I love you too,” you told her. Valeria stared at you for a moment in disbelief before a warm smile spread across her lips.

Your name fell from her lips in a happy sigh as she lifted your joined hands to her mouth and kissed over the back of your knuckles. Bishop watched the way Valeria’s face changed and looked back to you as well. He’d never been in this kind of situation before. He didn’t even know what to call it. All he knew was that he loved you and you loved him and that was enough for him. He couldn’t blame you or be angry if your heart had room for more love.

While Valeria kissed your hand over and over and up your arm a bit, you giggled softly. Bishop turned and kissed you softly, his beard tickling your chin which made you smile against his lips. Val leaned forward, closer to Bishop to kiss his ear gently. “If you love this girl, then we’re in it together,” Val spoke softly into his ear as he continued to kiss you, feeling more love between you and Val than he had ever felt before.

perm tags: @bendro-pascarnes​ @mitchi-c​ @nebulastarr​ @artsymaddie​ @darklingveracruz​  @phoenixhalliwell​ @sleep-tight1​ @guiidiiosa​ @miraclemoreno​ @rae-gar-targaryen​ @autumnleaves1991-blog​ @niki-xie​ @princess76179​ @amneris21​ @marvelprincess1994​ @littlestarfighter03​ @kaqua​ @just1bri​ @teapartydreams​

mayans tags: @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @rose-bliss​ @beeroses​

please let me know if you want to be moved/removed from any lists so i can tag accordingly! thanks!

[brattyfics]

— until we meet again, preciosa

PAIRING || bishop losa x black!ofc, miguel galindo x black!ofc (mentioned)

SUMMARY || She’s not his, and she won’t ever be, so he leaves her with words whispered like a promise. “Until we meet again, preciosa.”

TAGS || angst, unresolved feelings, not a hea, mentions of toxic relationships, sex (referenced).

WORD COUNT || 1.6k

Shadowy clouds hang overhead, blocking out the warming glow of the Sun. Raindrops pelt the roof above, drumming a beat of their own before pooling down to the concrete paved streets below. Isis watches stray droplets gather on the tall windows for several moments before stepping out onto the covered balcony. It felt colder than usual inside the three-story, Spanish-style shophouse, but outside it’s the opposite-- balmy, earthy. The air is heavy with humidity, so she has to take deep breaths, but she doesn’t enjoy it any less. Invigoration comes with the rain, brings hope for new beginnings, renews faith for the hopeless.

Down below, people dart between vendors to continue their shopping as the rain lightens. Colorful rays spring from puddles up towards the sky. A pair of young siblings splash each other while their mother sells delicious smelling tamales wrapped in banana leaves. Another young woman peddles gold necklaces, praying candles, and other little knick-knacks to the tourists of Sonora. Everybody has to make a living, including Isis.

She spends her days stroking the strings of a guitar or the keys of her piano, helping patrons of the music shop in between. The ground floor of the shophouse boasts string instruments and an extensive collection of vinyl records. After hours, she makes money hosting private piano lessons. She performs at the Discoteca down the street on weekends, fueling her passion for music almost 24/7 except when Preciosa is closed for ‘maintenance’.

Overstock merchandise and whatever else the Mayans’ Motorcycle Clubs needs to store clutters the second floor. Don’t ask, don’t tell is her motto, so whenever they come to the shop, she simply flips the sign to closed. There’s no point in fighting it. Besides, El Presidente always makes it a bearable, if not pleasant, experience. Bishop had called ahead to warn her that he was bringing Hank, Angel, and the new prospect, Angel’s baby brother, along. She could hear them bumping around, a noisy reminder that her shop only thrived because of the illegal deals happening in the back.

“Why don’t you put all that time and energy into something that’ll get you somewhere?” Being a musician wasn’t an acceptable career in her mother’s eyes, so the woman took every chance she could to crush her daughter’s dreams. “Nobody wants to hear all that noise!” Staring out into the street, she can’t help but wonder where she would’ve ended up if her mother had been supportive. Maybe she could have been a star rising to the top of Billboard charts or someone who worked behind the scenes, writing songs, singing demos. She had the skill set. Yes, her path would have been much different.

Isis had stood front and center, crooning out an old school blues song at a hole-in-the-wall spot when Miguel Galindo first laid eyes on her. It was a chance meeting, one that felt like fate at the time because dive bars weren’t his scene. The owner was a business associate who decided to try his hand at being a restaurateur; Miguel had been kind enough to come out and support. When he caught sight of her shapely frame in a slinky, satin number, he insisted on being introduced.

Miguel stood out in a crowd, wearing a tailored button-down, dark dress pants, and an expensive pair of Italian leather shoes. His salt and pepper beard groomed to perfection, hair gelled so that no strand was out of place. The moment she’d looked into his eyes, she was caught in his web. His masculine scent drew her in like honey to a bee. His charisma held her attention. Miguel sweet-talked her all night, insisting Isis sit next to him, eat h’orderves, and drink overpriced champagne. She obliged. Who could say no to that face? He used their close proximity to reel her in like a fish on a hook, leaning down to whisper in her ear. You’re beautiful. He told her. You have such a smooth, seductive tone. You should be performing for bigger crowds. Have you ever thought about branching out? He told her everything her mother never had, so she was a lamb to the slaughter.

For months, Miguel had treated her like his very own LifeSize doll to play with. He took her on shopping sprees, kept her draped in silk and lace. Isis didn’t think of herself as materialistic, but she couldn’t deny being showered in gifts felt splendid. He was always so tender, handling her delicately as his newest prized possession. As time went on, she became more like an ornament. Something for him to marvel at when he felt like it and then hide away the rest of the time. But nothing was worse than him leaving her to harden after he was finished molding her like clay. She asked for more—time, commitment, only for him to do the opposite.

Thus, Preciosa was born. A way for him to placate her and later make it easier for the M.C. to make him money.

“Just a few more minutes, and we’ll be out your way.” Isis jumped at the sound, turning away from the street to see Bishop. She hadn’t heard him come outside; didn’t expect him to venture up into her personal space.

Isis’ smile rarely reached her eyes, Bishop noticed. He stepped forward, holding a velvet box that felt heavier than it was. Her fingertips tickled him as he passed it over. Diamonds surrounded in white gold gleamed as the clouds cleared away for the Sun. Even Bishop could admit the set was gorgeous, but she didn’t look impressed. He hated being Galindo’s delivery boy, watching the way her face fell when the gifts she received became increasingly impersonal with each week. Not long ago, he’d also been tasked with passing along handwritten love notes or antique music sheets that she caressed like she would a lover’s skin.

“Thank you.”

She couldn’t hide her disappointment from him. Not for lack of trying-- Miguel always reminded her, appearances were everything. Smile. Don’t make me look bad. But Bishop watched her closely, knew her tells. Despite every nerve in his brain urging him to walk away, he steps forward to stand next to her. His calloused hands rest on the balcony’s edge next to her delicate pair, brown in varying tones of sepia and mahogany contrasting against the white paint.

Bishop feels the heat of her eyes on his frame, but he doesn’t let himself respond. Sharing this moment, a quick breath of fresh air will have to be enough. But she’s all around him, smelling of florals and sweet spices. He can’t think. He fumbles with his pockets in search of a cigarette. “You mind?” She shakes her head but is otherwise silent. Still watching him as he smokes; the way he takes long, steady pulls, cradling the stick between his full lips and then between his strong, veined fingers. She would bet her last dollar that he was an expert at other things involving his fingers and mouth.

When his hand drops again, she links her pinky with his, hesitant but exploratory.

Bishop looks at her, really looks at her like he sees her. It’s nice to be seen, especially when you’re the princess locked up far, far away from everyone you’ve ever known. She’s a black girl from Texas living in Sonora for goodness’ sake. This is no life, and she knows it. Several moments pass where neither can look away, both weighing their desires with the potential consequences.

With a deep breath in, she musters up the courage to ask Bishop what she’s been wanting to for months.

“Stay?”

Her heart feels like it might just explode while she waits for a response.

Bishop drops his head to his chest, cursing under his breath. “Fuck.” If Miguel ever found out��� But he already knew what his answer would be. He’d been waiting for the invitation. The heated looks they exchanged, the way her fingers lingered on his when he passed her something. That damned pout she wore when Miguel forgot to send a flower arrangement-- she had no idea Bishop had been the one buying the flowers for some time now. No matter what mood she was in, fresh flowers always brightened her day. He loved watching that lonely look transform into something more lively, curious as she marveled over his choice for the week. He went for variety, slowly learning what she loved and what she just liked; her favorite color, favorite scent.

The subtle tension between them, he wasn’t even certain she noticed. The cash and the bling could’ve blinded her to all other men. But it didn’t.

When the Sun had gone down several hours later, and the guys were gone, Bishop redressed. Belt buckling with a clink, leather sliding over his shoulders easily. He let himself take one last look at her wrapped up in a poofy comforter set. The mustard-yellow velvet complimented her skin in the best way, bringing out a gold undertone. Her eyes seem to have brightened as well. He couldn’t resist leaning over to stroke her sweaty skin. Dark coils stuck to her beautiful face, frizzy in some parts from when she rode him, sweat escaping from her pores, flat in the others from when he laid her on her back and hooked her legs over her shoulders.

He wants to stay, to prop himself up against the intricately carved wood headboard and hold her in his lap while they whisper sweet nothing to each other, but he can’t.

She’s not his, and she won’t ever be, so he leaves her with words whispered like a promise. “Until we meet again, preciosa.”

NOTES || This fic and the collage above was inspired by @isisafrofairy’s gorgeous moodboard! Also, the wonderful “Until we meet again, preciosa” line is hers as well. This is my thank you for the moodboard you made for me. I really leaned on the pictures you used for inspiration and I think I managed to capture/include each element. It was so hard not to ruin the surprise, but I was able to shut tf up for once 😂 I’m really proud of how this turned out, and hopefully you enjoy it just as much! Also, I realize the moodboard had nothing to do with Miguel but he lives in my head rent-free apparently 🥴

GENERAL TAGLIST || @woahitslucyylu @briannab1234 @sheeshgivemeabreak @breakingnewsin-no-oneasked @angelreyesgirl @blessedboo @glimmerglittergirl @apantherinmypastlife @brownsugarcoffy @marvelmaree @starrynite7114 @scuzmunkie @thewarriorprincessxo @sadeyesgf @pearlkitten33 @imanerdychubbyqueen @literaturefeen @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @everyhowlmarksthedead @yourwonkywriter @trulysuccubus @sparklemichele @luckyharley1903 @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @amorestevens​

MAYANS M.C. TAGLIST || @cant-decide-at-this-moment

[crowfootwrites]

crowfootwrites masterlist

18+ / NSFW / Smut pieces marked with 🔥

Star Trek Works:

New Arrival [Odo (ST:DS9) x Fem!Reader]

Devotion & Diplomacy [Daro (ST:TNG) x OFC] Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX 🔥

Diel [Taurik (ST:TNG) x Fem!Reader]

Warm Welcome [Neelix (ST:VOY) x GN!Reader]

Eaha’le [Senator Kimara Cretak (ST:DS9) x GN!Reader]

What Happens on Risa [Gul Macet (ST:TNG) x Fem!Reader] 🔥

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist [various ST characters] 🔥

Stardew Valley Works:

December Drabbles [All Characters, currently updating]

Mayans MC Works:

The Boyfriend [Taza Romero x Fem!Reader] Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV

Bruises [Nestor Oceteva X Fem!Reader] | Part I | Part II

Hair [Nestor Oceteva x Reader] (Drabble)

Hoodie [Coco Cruz x Fem!Reader] (Drabble)

It’s Easy [Nestor Oceteva x Fem!Reader]

June Drabbles [All Characters, unfinished]

Los Guardianes [Nestor Oceteva x Fem!Reader] Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII

Mayans Take Their Kids Trick-or-Treating | Headcanon

Nightmare [Taza Romero x Fem!Reader]

PTA [Creeper Vargas x Reader]

Safety [Nestor Oceteva x Reader]

Show Off [Angel Reyes x Fem!Reader]

Softer [Hank Loza x Reader]

Study Buddy [Coco Cruz x Reader]

Sugar [Miguel Galindo x Fem!Reader] 🔥

Suspension [Gilly Lopez x Fem!Reader]

Together [Bishop Losa x Fem!Reader]

Undone [Nestor Oceteva x Fem!Reader] 🔥

Sons of Anarchy Works:

Ache [Juice Ortiz x Reader]

Assumptions [Chibs Telford x Fem!Reader] 🔥

The Dream [Chibs Telford x Fem!Reader] 🔥

Memories [Bobby Munson x Reader]

Rough Night [Tig Trager x Fem!Reader] 🔥

Law & Order: Special Victims Unit Works

The Bath [Rafael Barba x Reader]

A Night on the Town [Rafael Barba x OC] 🔥

[artemiseamoon]

New Moodboards for Death Kiss

Part of my 2022 Frightfest

More Mayans M.C

Use fic link for info and warnings

Characters: Bishop, Reyes Brothers, my main OC Blu, and more!

I know it’s not Halloween, but I’ll be returning to this vampires/Mayans mini fic in a couple of weeks. So, fresh boards! I love them. This is an AU of John Carpenters Vampires. I didn’t have the heart to kill any of the Mayans so only Bishop and the Reyes brothers are featured. The movie vampire is the same (for now), I’ve changed the priest, he has a fc.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

The Dark Passenger - Chapter Nineteen.

I’ve decided to nuke the unlock feature on this besties. It was an idea to maybe try and coax those who usually wouldn’t comment or reblog to do just that, but all it did was prompt all you lovely people who are faultless in doing such to participate more, and if shouldn’t be left to you lovely souls, you do enough! :) So yes, I’ll update once weekly going forward. Huge thank you to all of you who have engaged with this story and are still with me enjoying it. You make me smile!

Previous chapters - One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven  Eight  Nine  Ten  Eleven  Twelve  Thirteen  Fourteen  Fifteen  Sixteen  Seventeen  Eighteen

Words - 4,093 

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be added/removed

“I’ve been looking for you all morning.” The words of her sister-in-law were what roused Amelia Shepherd from her long, complex train of thoughts, looking at the scans that had arrived the evening before, for a patient Doctor Conrad Knight from St Michael’s Hospital in Santo Padre had deemed inoperable. “My god, that mass!” Meredith then continued, coming to her side and squinting a little at the images. “Meningioma?”

“Glioblastoma,” Amelia confirmed, “with a growth period of fourteen months.”

Meredith’s jaw virtually hit the floor. “Fourteen months, and it’s reached those margins? Holy cow.”

She snorted softly. “Holy cow, indeed. The patient has received six weeks of radiotherapy, but it’s done little to shrink it. That beast is aggressive if nothing else.”

“I’ll say! Anyway, I was looking for you to confirm you and Linc will be at Zola’s recital tomorrow. I have to let the school know how many of us are attending and as usual, I’m late in getting back to them.”

“I’ll be there,” she confirmed, her eyes flitting back to the scan images, “but Linc has surgery, so just put me down.”

“Okay. Good luck with that, too.” Nodding in the direction of the scans, she raised her eyebrows. “You think you can do anything?”

Amelia pressed the tip of her pen against her pursed lips, studying it, slowly beginning to nod. “It’s risky, being that this portion here is pressing so heavily against the temporal lobe from its growth through the frontal, but the rest I think should be a clean removal. I’m going to call Koracick for a second opinion, but yes, I think I can get it all. If not, then at least another round of radiotherapy should be able to kill off the remainder of it, should I deem it too risky once I’m in there and can physically see it.”  

Meredith left her to it, impressed as ever by Amelia’s grit, her confidence in herself over what other surgeons would have tiptoed into with much greater caution. She was one of the best in her field for a reason. Zooming in closer, Amelia muttered to herself, beginning to scribble notes, her mind working speedily. “Two millimetres onto the temporal, hmm... could affect his memory... possibly wouldn’t... if I came at it from... hmm, no... wait... yes! If I... yes!”

One phone call to her mentor later, sending the images for him to study, both discussing it from all angles, and Amelia was able to return to her office and make another call before she was due in surgery. “Miss Smith? Hello, this Doctor Amelia Shepherd from Grey Slone Memorial. Okay, so I have some news following our preliminary discussion. Is Mr Reyes with you currently?”

“Hold on one moment, Doctor Shepherd. I’m upstairs and he’s outside.” Camile raced, barefoot and flat out down the stairs, through the clubhouse and into the yard, finding EZ hauling large quantities of metal into a large container, after stating he felt well enough to actually be useful, for once. “Okay, go ahead.” Putting the call on speaker, she walked with him back inside, taking a seat as the doctor began to explain her thoughts.  

“Of course, before we really get into it, I would like for you to fly up here for an appointment, also so I can have you scanned here at the hospital, since we do boast much superior equipment. I will be in a much better position to know how exactly to proceed surgically after that, but at this moment, I am saying yes. I feel confident that I can remove it. If not all, then most of it. The surgery would not be without its risks, however, but we can discuss that in greater detail once we’ve actually met to begin our preliminary discussions. Now, I have free appointments commencing as of August 17th. When is good for you, Mr Reyes?”

He chose as soon as possible, scheduling with her for August 17th at 10am, thanking her for her call and more so, even considering his case viable in the first place. Camille hung up, trying to bite back her grin, not able to read him for a few moments, his face blank, eyes a little wide.  

He cleared his throat a little. “Did she... did she really just say she’s prepared to do the surgery? I’m not imagining it; this isn’t a dream? She really wants to attempt to remove it?”

Reaching for his arm, she pinched him upon his dragon tattoo. “You’d wake up about now if it was, baby.”  

“I feel... I feel like I shouldn’t be happy about this, like I should proceed with caution, not get my hopes up too much, I...”  

She saw it in him, the need for optimism, that he wanted to at least be a little bit relieved that finally, there was good news, and that such should be celebrated. “EZ, this is amazing news, of course you get to be happy about it. That tumour, up until now deemed inoperable? We just found a surgeon who is stating otherwise!”  

Her bright enthusiasm pulled him out of the veil of pessimism he’d partially slid back under, EZ shaking his head as he stood, beginning to laugh as he pulled her into his arms, lifting her from the floor, swinging her around. Finally, the light at the end of the tunnel had been turned back on. Finally, there was hope. “I can’t believe she’s willing to try! I mean, I just... fuck. It might all just be okay.”  

She held his face in her hands as he set her back onto her feet, beaming brightly. “It will be okay. She’s in Seattle. It’s a sign, a clear sign right from your mom. She told you in your dream that’s where you’d find your answer. It’s too spooky to be pure coincidence. You’re gonna be fine, I know it. I just know it. You know I’m not wrong about these things.”

It was true, she wasn’t. What Camille felt with her gut instinct was always correct, that sixth sense she seemed to have. After all, she’d been the only person in his life to know that while he was putting her and everyone else close to him through hell in his altered state, he was still in there, buried beneath the duress of the tumour. The tumour Doctor Shepherd was certain she could remove.  

“Morning, guys,” Hank spoke brightly, beginning to smile as he saw the happy faces that greeted him. “Ain’t seen you looking so happy for a while, prez.”  

“Well, I just got some good news,” EZ began, walking to him. “We found a surgeon, well no, Camille did, this is her win, and she’s prepared to operate on me. She thinks she can get the tumour out, if not all of it, then most.”  

Hank shook his head, grabbing EZ’s face and pulling him close, kissing his forehead before bear hugging him tightly. To have him so elated touched EZ to tears, since he knew that he’d been especially cruel to his enforcer in particular during the months where he wasn’t himself.  

“Damn, you’re gonna have one hell of a badass scar,” he rumbled, EZ laughing and hugging him again just as Bishop entered the clubhouse to be told the same thing, he and EZ embracing, the VP absolutely elated for him.  

“We gotta celebrate this, mijo,” he announced. “We gotta do something, get everyone down here. Hey, it’s Bella’s birthday celebrations this weekend, isn’t it? I doubt she’d mind sharing.”

“Yes, this Saturday. I know because I’m on at the club but then coming back here with all of you to party, and she’s already requested I give her a lap dance,” Camille confirmed, suddenly having three very interested pairs of eyes on her.  

“Oh really?” Bishop rumbled, his grin widening. “Can you do that for a small audience?”  

“Single clients only, no audiences,” she confirmed.

“Damn,” he exclaimed with a little nod of his head, suddenly brightening. “Can you do it again when we all get back here?”

“Bishop, is this just a ploy to see my tits?”

He shrugged, his grin widening. “Maybe.”

“Yeah, but if she even so much as flashed you, you wouldn’t know what the hell to do with yourself,” EZ joked, giving Camille a little nudge and an eyebrow raise that said one thing loud and clear. ‘Do it, it’ll be hilarious.’ It wasn’t a secret that Bishop had somewhat of a small crush on her, or as much of one as a happily married man could.  

“I’m going to work now, see you later, love you,” she spoke kissing her boyfriend before going to get her bag from upstairs, coming back down and turning back at the doors. “Hey, Bish?” Grabbing her top, she lifted it, flashing him speedily before turning and heading out, the three guys in hysterics at her antics.  

“Jesus Christ,” Bishop exclaimed, licking his lips, still laughing. “God damn, those are beautiful tits.”

EZ nodded, winding an arm around his shoulders as they began to walk towards the doors. “And guess who had his dick right up between them last night?”

Hank exploded laughing behind them, Bishop throwing a playful glare. “Oh, I hate you.”

“Envy don’t look good on you, carnan.” Going back out to the yard, they continued to work until the others showed up, EZ sharing with them his news, having his brother in tears as he hugged him, Angel overcome with relief.  

“I gotta call B and let her know, she’ll be fuckin’ over the goddamned moon, bro. And yeah, she ain’t gonna have a problem sharing her day.” When the day came, Angel made it so special that Bella had no problem sharing it with anyone, especially not after she saw her gift from her husband.  

“Can I take this thing off yet?” she asked, her vision obscured by the black bandana Angel had tied around her head, leading her across the yard to where her birthday present had been stashed.  

Coming to a stop, he beamed, excited for her reaction. “Okay, now you can look.” Taking off her blindfold, Bella nearly died on the spot to see her dream car, a Range Rover Sport black edition, with a big bow stuck on the roof. Her scream? Deafening.  

“Oh my god! Oh my bloody fucking bloody god! Oh bloody hell, you got me... you... it’s... oh my god, I love you so much! Thank you, big sexy!” she squealed, throwing her arms around Angel, showering his face with kisses.  

“You’re welcome, baby.” Sometimes, it paid well to not be able to put large chunks of cash in the bank, Angel deciding to spend a huge amount on at least half paying off a near brand-new car for his wife in cash, the rest on monthly credit to an amount he could comfortably afford. It was her twenty-first, after all. She deserved something fancy, and it still kept him under the radar. Large, fancy purchases of course were a strict no-no because of the attention they drew from certain governmental department eyes, the greater push of heroin making each of the guy’s very comfortable financially, but also on the radar.  

Camille came down from the front of the clubhouse, presenting Bella with a big bag of gifts and a huge hug and kiss, having no idea what to get her as a big present, so deciding on lots of little ones. Inside resided all her favourite British candies and snacks and a pair of large hoop earrings with little cherry amber gems, and a pendant that matched, Bella excitedly taking out her current pair to put them into her ears along with all the rest.  

She and Angel left shortly after, Bella jumping behind the wheel of her new ride, pulling a wide eyed, wide mouthed face of utter excitement after starting the engine and giving it a few revs, Camille cracking up before waving them off, heading back inside. She’d booked the Saturday off for a change, wanting a little bit of downtime since she’d been busy between the salon and the club, needing nothing but to spend time with her man. When he was awake, that was.

Gone now were the days of nausea and headaches plaguing him now he was managing to keep his medication to combat both down, but the other most prominent after effect of the radiotherapy was still beating his ass, EZ sleeping on average twelve hours a day, sometimes more. When she arrived upstairs, though, she found him awake, looking through his phone as he did upon waking, Sally curled up at his side.  

“Was that engine I heard starting up Bella leaving in her new toy?” he asked, Camille slipping her feet from her dark grey fluffy slides (or the dead muppet slides, as EZ loved to call them in tease) and moving to lie down beside him, Sally thumping her tail happily and moving to lick her arm.  

“It was, and she absolutely loved it. Angel’s taking her for breakfast, and then I think the plan is for you guys to meet here at 7pm before you all head over to the club,” she spoke, EZ nodding, looking down at his stomach as it rumbled loudly. “Want me to sort that out?”  

“What?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “The rumbling stomach, or the morning wood?”  

“Both?” Sally was nudged from the bed, both falling into kisses, a very hot, quick morning session enjoyed before they showered, EZ shaving while Camille went to sort some breakfast. It was while she was scattering granola and a variety of seeds over the banana yogurt and fruit that she turned to see him, leaning against the bathroom doorframe, smiling, but with something there in his eyes that made her question it. “For a man who just blew his load all over his girl’s boobies, you look a little troubled.”

He shook his head, scratching the side of his neck as he laughed softly. Pulling the t shirt he held in his hand on, he approached, taking the coffee cup she handed him with thanks. “It hits me at times, just how lucky I am to have you, after all the shit I put you through. I would have never blamed you for walking away if you had, especially after I hit you.” He dropped his head, staring at his bare feet. “It still haunts me. If Bish hadn’t gotten in the way, I know I’d have kept going, too. I dream of it sometimes, these nightmares that swirl in my head, imagining losing control, bad things happening.”

It was the kind of turn Camille hadn’t expected the morning to take, her boyfriend placing his coffee down and covering his face with his hands for a moment, taking a deep breath, pulling himself together again. How easily she could have been Gaby. How fortunate he was that he’d had people there to halt him before his tumour had dictated she be another body of a beautiful soul he made quietly disappear.  

“Nightmares aren’t real, and I’m not naïve enough to know that it could have gotten much worse, should we have been alone that night, but it isn’t going to happen again. Doctor Shepherd is going to make sure of that.” Handing him his breakfast with a kiss, she squeezed his arm, moving over to the small lounge area and taking a seat. “Come on, this is meant to be a happy day. Bella’s finally at legal drinking age, you’re celebrating the fact we found the aforementioned surgeon, so turn your frown upside down.”  

The sweet simplicity she showed, how she’d taken it all in her stride, it still amazed EZ. For someone who could be so unguarded, soft and trusting, there was a side to Camille that was nothing but raw strength, her faith unshakable. Her faith in him unshakable. Lesser women would have run from much less, and he counted himself so very fortunate to have her there by his side still. “I mean it, you know. No more lamentations. I know you get a little melancholy about it all from time to time, but I don’t want you to be. I just want you to love me.”

He kissed her cheek, nuzzling her softly, licking a little yogurt fleck from her top lip. “There’s no danger of me doing anything less than love you completely.” Such words left her feeling nothing but glowing, kissing him again before they finished eating, spending the rest of the day relaxing, EZ napping too so he’d have enough energy to enjoy what was to follow later that night.

They arrived at the Luna Lounge at just gone 7:15pm, Bella being greeted by a big bouquet of flowers and balloons from Camille, a free drink too since it was her birthday, the bartender also doing some shots with her, which too were on the house. After that, she was swiftly led away for her birthday dance, emerging just under ten minutes later, her face an absolute picture. For Angel, it could have cost him ten times more than it did, and it would have been worth every last cent.

“Are you alright there, B?” he asked, his voice rippling with a current of laughter as he viewed his wife, Bella grinning widely.

She leaned close to him, giggling in a way that had him snort laughing in a second. “I think I’m bi, because bloody hell, the full-on lady boner I have right now.”  

That was it, Angel was gone, completely cracking up in hysterics as he put his arms around her, kissing her hair. “I swear, she amped it up just to be a tease! I mean she... she... I...” she floundered, only reducing him to further hysterics. “Blimey!”

“I can’t... I can’t fucking breathe,” he hissed. “Best sixty bucks I’ve ever spent, shit.”  

Bella then turned to EZ, her face making him crack in a second. “And you get that woman, all over you, on a nightly basis.”

“I do,” he confirmed, swigging his beer.

“I think you’re gonna have to share her with me,” she nodded, sipping her drink. “It’s only fair I get to take her home at least one night a week.”

“Yeah, and let me watch, damn!” Angel exclaimed.

“Oh no, there’ll be no pimping of my lady to you! You keep your pussy to yourself, B.”

“What if I save you a seat next to me for the viewing?” Angel asked, EZ pausing lifting the bottle to his lips, his grin suddenly widening.  

“I’ll give it some thought.” When Camille joined them, she found the whole thing hysterical when it was relayed to her, swiftly being asked for another private dance from the group, Gilly deciding he wanted one. For Amelia. She did wonder why none of the guys asked her for themselves, until it swiftly dawned on her that it was a respect thing, being that she was El Presidente’s girlfriend, of course they wouldn’t. Samuel and Jonah, the two newly patched in members of the MC were taken care of by Tallulah and Raven, though, Nestor finding himself led away by Mai for the same, who excused herself briefly to whisper in Camille’s ear.

“This dude I have here, is he single?”  

Camille nodded. “Oh yeah, and he has a big thing for Japanese chicks.”

Mai straightened, fluffing her hair, her grin suddenly wide. “Ding, ding, ding! Jackpot!” Thanks to the Santo Padre charter of the Mayans, the girls walked away with a very tidy wedge that night, Mai and Tallulah in particular, Bella and Amelia getting them to give their guys a dance each, too. When Angel sat back down beside his wife, it was all she could do not to pee her pants at the look on his face.  

“Happy, are we?” she asked, Angel grabbing her, pulling her onto his lap.

“I got me the hottest woman in here, and she’s cool with buying me a lap dance. Happy don’t quite cut it. Imma show you just how happy you make me as soon as we get back to the yard,” he vouched, Amelia suddenly leaning into their space.  

“Bathroom out for ten minutes again?”

He sneered playfully, prodding the end of her nose. “You’re just salty that it ain’t you I’m giving ten minutes of heaven to, Garcie.” They left at close to 10pm to continue the party back at the clubhouse, Camille able to duck out early since Mai was covering for her by staying on late. Once back, firepits were lit, drinks were poured, and more people piled in, Bella screaming in delight at the surprise that was her old friends from the salon arriving, racing to hug Bridgette, Gloria and Ruby in turn.  

“Shit, who's the tall black chick hugging your wife?" Nestor asked, Angel giving him a double take.  

“That’s Ruby,” he began, his grin widening. “And she’s a drag queen, bro.”

Nestor dropped his head for a second, quickly straightening with a thoughtful face. “Hm. Maybe Bella isn’t the only one wondering how bi she might be tonight.”  

Angel blew out a mouthful of beer with the force of his laughter, doubling over, Nestor in fits at his reaction. “You horny, French braid bitch, shit.” It was a scene EZ witnessed, one that he was glad of, his brother seemingly over his dislike of Nestor enough to actually be welcoming of his place in the club more than he had been before. His attention was then distracted by another arrival, or more precisely, Angel’s loud, drunken reaction to it. “Marge! Marge is here!”

He had a huge soft spot for the diminutive redhead, getting to know her better when she’d called in the previous week after having car trouble, Camille telling her to take it down and get Bishop to look at it for her, who was the resident automotive genius. While waiting, she’d sat talking to the elder of the Reyes brothers, becoming just as fond of him as he was her.  

“Hello honey. Oh, that’s a very big hug,” she laughed as he ran to her and wrapped her in his arms, somewhat smushed against his chest. “Where’s wifey? I have a little gift for her.”  

Angel was touched by that gesture, only ever having met Bella once before, but obviously being told that the celebration she’d been invited to was also for her birthday as well as EZ’s news about the surgery. “Up here, come on.” Taking her hand, he led her back to where their little group was sitting at the front of the clubhouse, throwing himself down on the couch, Marge passing the gift bag to a delighted Bella, kissing her cheek.  

“Marge!” she exclaimed, pulling out a gorgeous, huge jar candle from the bag, opening it up and giving it a sniff. “Oh, that smells beautiful! Thank you!”

“You’re welcome, honey,” she nodded, moving to greet EZ.  

“Hey, ma,” he chirped, standing to hug her, Marge touched by his use of the term ma to refer to her as. “No John?”

“No, sweetheart. He has a migraine, but he sends this for you.” Opening her bag, she pulled out a bottle of Casamigos Blanco, EZ’s favourite tequila. “And I am instructed to do shots with you, so go fetch some glasses.”

“No need,” he began, before calling out to Anton, the newest hopeful looking to join the ranks of the MC. “Hey, prospect! Shot glasses!”  

Marge turned to him with a raised eyebrow. “It’s good being king, huh?”  

He grinned, wrapping his arm around her. “It’s never dull, I’ll give you that.” Shortly after, they were joined by Camille and Amelia, who’d been locked in conversation with Gloria, who coincidentally Camille knew from beauty school, Gloria a former part-time tutor there on the hairdressing course, the women often crossing paths while the former was training to be a beautician.  

As he sat back, doing shots with his girlfriend and her mother, the party in full swing, EZ took a moment to pause as he watched it swirl around him. This Doctor Shepherd they’d found, well, she’d better be as good as she seemed, because no matter his past wobbles, his resignment to his fate, this was his life, and he loved it. He didn’t want to check out at thirty-five, no way.  

He had way too much good there to live for. All he needed now was to further cut out the bad.  

[artemiseamoon]

Death Kiss

Status: COMPLETE

Bishop Losa, Reyes brothers and Ocs | Mayans x Vampire (1998)

A mini fic | part of Frightfest | ✨✨A03 story link ✨✨| moodboards | Moodboards

Previews - tumblr main and @artemiseamoon-updates | Full works post to A03

Summary

Blu and the Sugarplums are hired for a private party that turns deadly. In the aftermath of blood and death, the survivors team up with vampire hunters for survival.

Overall warnings

vampire stuff, some gore, sexual situations, deaths, a person gets held up and their car stolen but w/o any physical violence (not diminishing how shitty that act is, but in case anyone is sensitive to that, know there is no violent act involved) accidents (like a car crashing)

Characters

There are a few, so below is a key if you need it, or to come back to it as you read.

Bishop and the Reyes Brothers

Their team of vampire hunters (only some mentioned by name like Jim, Chris )

My Ofcs: Blu and Luz (Blu is 38, Lux is 27)

The Sugarplums aka the working ladies, there are about 10 of them (only some mentioned by name like Luz, Hazel, Candy)

Side characters: Father Adam Guiteau, Sheriffs (Sheriff Perry), Deputies (Deputy Kyle), etc. , Father Gio

Mayans note

I did not have the heart to kill a bunch of the Mayans guys, I love them too much. So I am just using Bishop and the Reyes Brothers for this, the rest of their team is filled with made up side characters.

Tumblr previews (a03 links included)

Read directly on A03

Chapter one: sugarplum and blood

Chapter two: a place to lay low

Chapter three: it’s starting

Chapter four: welcome to the team sweetheart

Chapter five: end of the line

Chapter six: no going back

My main Oc, Blu

[artemiseamoon]

Mayans M.C.

Update: I’m Manny’s girl. Status: taken :)

Manny

If this is our destiny

Whatever happens, just come back to me

Will Medina

Headcanon 1

End of a bumpy road

No goodbyes yet ft. Sister oc

Angel Reyes *

Take two

If this is our destiny (featured)

A way to a mans heart Angel x Tianna

A Frightfest one shot - preview

Ez Reyes *

The Best Gift

Bishop Losa *

Death Kiss (JC Vampires au)

Multi character

Bishop, Angel, Ez

Death kiss*

Kj -Kevin Jimenez

3 am

To come…

Full moon over Santo Padre * hiatus

Gilly

Gilly Lopez x Ofc

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

He’d always believed that the code of La Cosa Nostra forbade their operations to extend into the realms of drug trafficking. To be specific, he’d assumed it stemmed from reasons of mortality, perhaps a skewed sense of Catholic guilt, when in fact, the commoner explanation was far simpler.  

GAHHHH I HAVE SO MUCH INFO TO SHARE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

He was in Vegas, after all. Home of the poker face.  

I could make you a PowerPoint, I am a wealth of info.

Downer, of course, was at the epicentre of it. “Hey, I thought there was meant to be whores on the dockside? That’s a thing, ain’t it? We’ve been here four times before now and no damned pussy anywhere.” Angel lit a cigarette, raising his eyebrows. “Man, where the fuck you get that from?” “He’s right,” Hank chimed in, “but about a couple hundred years out of date. Hookers used to frequent the docks back in the eighteen, nineteen hundreds. Gave lots of navy men who’d been at sea for months at a time a rampant case of the syph."

I love this, I'm a sucker for the film noir of it all.

“You’re getting way too smart with that fuckin’ yap of yours, prospect,” he snorted, pointing at Guero. “Been spending too much time with him and his big mouth.”

I would like to sandwich myself between Bottles and Guero, there would always be something to entertain me.

The last thing he expected to see was the body of a dishevelled looking blonde girl with a gash upon her head, lying there out cold, and the marked case notably empty of its usual stack of bills.   “Uh, guys?” he called, appearing back around the container door as his brothers were carrying cargo across from the vans. “We got a situation in here.”  

That's one way to put it.

Lost and Found - A Guero (Mayans MC)/OC Story.

Okay, okay! I cave to the demand and the excitement I have warmly received from you all. Here you go, darlings. First chapter is here. I can’t promise I will be posting the second next week just in case I want to do ANOTHER deep dive into the editing, but since I am just over halfway through writing it now, I thought I would at least post the first. 

Story is somewhat canon, with a few changes here and there to suit my artistic vision… i.e. I kicked canon in the ass and told her to go home, hahaha! Oh, I also gave Guero a surname, too! I tried to keep him as true to who we see on screen, but obviously since we didn’t get him for long, some of his characterisations are of my creation. Don’t like it? Don’t read. Simple as that. 

Nervously and excitedly awaiting your feedback, eeek! :)

Words - 3,834

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, Minors DNI. Recounts of kidnap, child trafficking, physical/verbal/sexual abuse in the coming chapters. 

Unknown numbers. Ezekiel Reyes often received more than he wished to endure upon the burner phone he used for club business. Regularly they were legitimate, but occasionally telemarketers, such annoyances he simply hung up on instantly. While walking from his trailer to the clubhouse, he expected the call coming in to be that of nuisance, 11am seemingly the call centre worker bee’s peak time to bother him about his long-distance courier needs, or savings on his energy bills.  

It was no telemarketer, but he almost disconnected the call all the same in sheer disbelief.  

“Ezekiel Reyes?”

Keep reading

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

I have a lot of theories.

There's still some supernatural angle, the tumour is a curse or something like that.

EZ will forget Camille after the surgery.

Something will happen with the club white EZ is getting better.

The tumour grew so fast because EZ was poisoned with something after he took the gavel.

The Dark Passenger - Chapter Nineteen.

I’ve decided to nuke the unlock feature on this besties. It was an idea to maybe try and coax those who usually wouldn’t comment or reblog to do just that, but all it did was prompt all you lovely people who are faultless in doing such to participate more, and if shouldn’t be left to you lovely souls, you do enough! :) So yes, I’ll update once weekly going forward. Huge thank you to all of you who have engaged with this story and are still with me enjoying it. You make me smile!

Previous chapters - One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven  Eight  Nine  Ten  Eleven  Twelve  Thirteen  Fourteen  Fifteen  Sixteen  Seventeen  Eighteen

Words - 4,093 

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be added/removed

“I’ve been looking for you all morning.” The words of her sister-in-law were what roused Amelia Shepherd from her long, complex train of thoughts, looking at the scans that had arrived the evening before, for a patient Doctor Conrad Knight from St Michael’s Hospital in Santo Padre had deemed inoperable. “My god, that mass!” Meredith then continued, coming to her side and squinting a little at the images. “Meningioma?”

“Glioblastoma,” Amelia confirmed, “with a growth period of fourteen months.”

Meredith’s jaw virtually hit the floor. “Fourteen months, and it’s reached those margins? Holy cow.”

Keep reading