#pierce x lady bish

[demons-mind]

I mentioned this a long time ago but Rhal is cheating on Lady Bish with one of her servants (Sapphire) and he thought he was being sneaky about it.

However once it got out the he was having an affair, Lady Bish ran straight to Pierce to get the anger, frustration, and sadness out of her system.

She didn't think she would be so upset about finding this out but she did and hates herself for everything that build up to where she is right now. Pierce tries to comfort her the best he could, considering he still sees her as his dearest friend. (By the way, Pierce wanted to end Rhal once he managed to calm Bish down)

Hope you all still like it though! 💚💚💚

[calif0rnia-lovers]

no place for a lady.

join my gc for updates since tags are acting weird

requested kiss challenge: seductive kiss or caught off-guard kiss with pirates? where’s Bishop is a feared captain

pairing: captain!bishop losa x theodosia bell | rating: 💙

sum: bish has taken the governor's daughter hostage. despite being his prisoner, she doesn’t listen to a single thing his crew says. to avoid a second escape attempt, he’s forced to keep eyes on her himself.

words: 2K

Captain Obispo Losa quietly inspects the silver blade catching the rays of the sun above.

The sword is a gift to himself. Stolen from the halls of a governor, foolish enough to leave his daughter poorly protected. It had caught Bishop's attention as he’d waited patiently from his hiding place. Never used, the sword was hanging above the mantle. Hours of work from the local blacksmith deduced to a decorative piece to be discussed over dinner.

Bishop admires the golden filigree decorating the handle. The sword is the nicest weapon he’s ever touched. Probably worth more than his entire ship. He gives it a few swings, adjusting his stance as he quickly becomes accustomed to the weight in his hand.

“Teach me how to use one?”

The request breaks Bishop's concentration. A scoff of disbelief escapes his lips as he glances away from the sword in his hand. He allows his eyes to pass over the woman seated nearby.

Bishop had nearly forgotten she was keeping him company. The usually outspoken woman has been silent. Mesmerized by his handling of the sword.

Bishop's handling of the sword was quite impressive, but so was the man himself.

Seated on the deck, Theodosia has her back against the mainmast--a feeble attempt at mastering the sickness she has yet to master in her time at sea.

The tunic she wears is the cleanest the captain could provide. The loose-fitting fabric rolled up to her elbows. Her dark windblown curls are safe beneath a black hat, the tattered brim protecting her face from the rays of the midday sun. Another gift, courtesy of the captain. In fact, all of the clothes that Theodosia wears are from the captain.

If it were up to her, she wouldn’t have accepted a single thing from the man responsible for marooning her on his ship. However, the golden customized gown she wore upon her arrival--while extremely beautiful-- was impractical for a ship.

As much as she hated accepting his clothes, she needed the hat the most. Not used to spending a day's length in the sun, Theodosia needed it to prevent her face from getting burned.

Bishop considers her question. His gaze remains on the sword in his hand, admiring the balance of the blade.

“Putting a blade in the hand of a hostage...do you take me for a fool, Miss. Bell?” Bishop questions, raising an eyebrow as his gaze drifts to her.

“I do, actually.”

The unexpected response, matched with the confidence of her voice, halts the man’s swinging of the blade. He comes to a standstill, his full attention focused on the woman gazing up at him.

“And why’s that?”

Bishop watches Theodosia's brow furrow, her mind seeking a rational explanation for her smart-mouthed response. Her dark brown eyes widen, her lips settling into a smirk as she pushes herself up.

“If your ship were under attack, you would want me to know how to defend myself.”

The satisfied grin on her face does not produce her desired response. Instead of agreeing, Bishop laughs. The sound wipes the grin clean off Theodosia’s face.

It is a sound the woman is not used to having directed toward her. As the governor’s daughter, Theodosia is not accustomed to people laughing in her face. It is, however, an act the captain seems to love doing. It is his preferred form of dismissal.

“Not necessarily,” he responds. The teasing in Bishop's voice more apparent as his gaze falls to Theodosia's clenched fists. “I don’t care much about your life if we’re being honest.”

“I beg to differ, Mr. Losa.” Theodosia challenges. “It would only be to your benefit if I knew how to handle a sword, even at the novice level. Would you care to know why?”

“I know you’re going to tell me regardless.” He mumbles.

Bishop now understood why, over the years, he’d been informed a ship was no place for a lady. Theodosia Bell is more trouble than it is worth. Following her arrival, she has been attached to the captain’s hip at all times. She has taken said time to share what is on her mind. No matter the subject. For someone born higher than the orphaned captain, she has a mouth as filthy as his.

“I’m flattered you’ve gotten to know me so well, Captain,” Theodosia beams. Her teasing tone prompts Bishop to roll his eyes. “I’ll return to my previous scenario--”

“By all means, make it quick.” He sighs. “I’m trying to concentrate.”

The woman does not waste a single second to present her case. She has learned Bishop will simply leave her behind, literally, when he tires of her voice.

“If we were attacked, you would spend the entire time fighting to protect me. You may claim my life has no value to you, but if that were the case, I wouldn’t be on this god-forsaken ship. Now, would I?” The confidence in her voice is no match to the grin on her face as Theodosia watches the Captain fold his arms over his chest. “You need me alive to get whatever it is you’ll be demanding of my father. As I stated before if someone learned the value of your precious cargo...and decided to take it from you...you, Mr. Losa, would spend your entire time trying to defend me. This means you won’t be able to defend your own life--or your ship--to the best of your abilities. Despite what I said earlier, you do not strike me as a fool.”

A fool Bishop Losa is not.

Theodosia has a point, but that is not the deciding factor.

In their two weeks at sea, Bishop has learned a valuable lesson. He can save himself a headache if he does what Theodosia asks. A woman not used to hearing “no,” as a response to her requests can be a true pain in the ass. If they weren’t so far from port, Bishop would have turned back and left her and her hefty ransom behind.

Before she can change her mind, Theodosia finds herself standing across from Bishop. The sword that is usually hanging around his hip is in her left hand. With the sword in her hand, her mind is blank. The casual and frankly unbothered expression on Bishop’s face makes her question her initial request.

Noting her hesitance, Bishop motions for Theodosia to step closer.

“Ladies first.”

Theodosia straightens her stance, struggling to gauge the exact position to hold the sword. The smile on her face is confident, but her voice not so much.

“And who said pirates have no manners?"

With her hat discarded, she struggles to keep her dark curls under control. The breeze pushes them into her face, her irritation hindering her focus.

She pushes them back from her face a third time. Her gaze examines the patiently waiting man. Although the tip of her blade is directed towards his chest, Bishop’s gaze is on hers. The determination he finds in her gaze tells Bishop all he needs to know.

She strikes first, as requested, swinging as hard as she can. But before her stroke is complete, her opponent is gone from her line of sight.

The sudden shift in the tide causes Theodosia to stumble forward.

A gasp escapes her lips as she slips, her bare feet shifting against the freshly scrubbed deck. She grimaces as her knees slam against the surface, her sword slipping from her grip.

Her head hangs forward, her eyes gripped shut as she listens to the chuckles that fill the air.

Heat floods her face, her eyes taking in the crew members who have suddenly abandoned their posts. They’ve gathered to watch the unfolding lesson, their eyes passing between their grinning captain and his opponent.

One member steps forward, picking up Theodosia's abandoned sword. He waits until she stands to offer it to her.

As she reaches for it, he pulls it back. He waits for her hand to fall to her side to speak.

"You're not gonna get far holdin' it like that, Miss."

Theodosia watches the quartermaster's eyes briefly pass over her shoulder to the waiting captain. As his eyes return to hers, they're as soft as the smile on his lips.

He shifts the sword, allowing her a better view of the placements of his fingers on the hilt.

"Always keep your sword up," he explains, shifting to demonstrate the correct stance. "Cap's quicker than he lets on. You wanna protect yourself."

"Right."

Turning to face Bishop, Theodosia watches as he motions for her to step forward. His request is the same as before.

“Try again.”

This time, Theodosia is not as rash as her previous attempt. The new information provided has shifted her focus. Now, instead of thinking of how to attack, she's worried about ensuring she's in the proper stance. Before she can blink, the captain is suddenly closer to her.

Entirely too close.

She instinctively takes a step back.

She remembers to keep her sword raised, but the sound of metal slicing through the air freezes her on the spot.

Her scream pierces the air as the steel of Bishop’s blade clangs with hers. The force of the contact ripples through her arm, widening her eyes.

He strikes a second time.

Her now lowered sword leaves her defenseless, allowing the tip of Bishop's blade to stop less than an inch from the base of her throat.

The once laughing crewmembers now watch silently, all focused on the terrified look in her eyes.

Bishop's voice breaks the silence.

“First lesson, Miss Bell. When you pick up a sword, no one cares that you’re a woman. They won't stop because you look scared. They’ll strike you down the same as a man.”

Bishop takes a step back. His blade taps lightly against her elbow forcing Theodosia to lift her sword.

“Second. Always stand your ground.”

“Stand my ground--what did you expect me to do? Just stand there while you tried to kill me!”

“If I was trying to, you wouldn't be standing,” Bishop chuckles, the smile on his lips having a surprising effect. A calming effect that helps her take a breath. Seeing the captain smile was such a rare occasion. It caused her to give him a soft one in return. “But now you know, you never want a blade that closes to your throat again.”

“Fine, what else do I need to know?”

“Number three. Anyone can swing a sword.” He allows the blade of his to tap the side of his shoe. “Footwork is the most important part. Doesn’t matter how fast you strike if you can’t escape your opponent's return.”

He watches her eyes glance down to his feet. She shifts to mimic his stance, taking a moment to find her balance on the shifting deck.

To her annoyance, it takes Theodosia a long time to use everything thrown her way. Trying to remember stances, the correct way to hold, the correct way to strike, the correct way to parry--it leaves her head swimming. Her problem is she gets frustrated with each of her missteps. Not being perfect at a skill is foreign territory. The usually short-tempered captain is patient, forcing her to push her frustrations aside as he asks her to identify her mistakes.

There is no need for Theodosia to worry about hurting Bishop. She is practicing with the most skilled swordsman to ever sell the seas. There are moments when her blade comes close to cutting into his flesh or snagging his shirt. But, Bishop always manages to escape. It’s not until he sends a wink her way that Theodosia realizes each close moment was purposeful, a subtle attempt to boost her morale.

Overthinking may be her most unfavorable habit, but it is not her downfall.

It is the flashes of Bishop’s smile when she does something correctly. It is in one of those moments when he catches her off guard. One moment she’s focused on his smile. The next her eyes are gripped shut. Her back pressed against his heaving chest. The chill of his blade against her throat.

“I’d suggest that you yield, Miss Bell,” Bishop chuckles as her eyes open. “It’d be impossible for you to get out of this any other way.”

Theodosia can’t help but mirror the grin that is on her opponent's face.

“Not impossible,” she challenges, glancing over her shoulder at him.

Bishop’s stance wavers slightly as his eyes meet hers.

Despite the playfulness in her gaze, he is unable to foresee the kiss that follows her statement.

Her lips press a kiss against his cheek, the action loosening his grip around her.

Her giggle fills the air as Bishop lowers his sword to his side, his head shaking as she escapes his grip.

The smile she finds on his lips arches her eyebrow.

“Careful, Mr. Losa,” she giggles. “Wouldn’t want your crew to find out their captain actually knows how to smile.”

mayans tags: @just1bri @jakiki94 @wabi-sabi1090 @mt2413 @ilikechocolatemilkh @lovebennycolon @montanaraed @aria725 @sesamepancakes @noz4a2 @crxssourbones @crashbarbie @leahnicole1219 @sillygoose6969 @minnicelli @trulysuccubus @trhett21 @whatupitshuff @futureleo1678 @babaohhhriley @helli4nthus @wiccanmetallicrose @losolvidad0s @abbiesthings @the-jer-bear @binooo98 @gemini0410 @thelovelyleo23 @mariaxliliana @themarkblues @kimljn @thesandbeneathmytoes @crashbarbie @cyka1312 @noz4a2 @zoovent​ @lakamaa12​ @making-starsdance @keithseabrook27​

all stories tags: @wabi-sabi1090 @jad3djay @crowngold @cant-decide-at-this-moment @wiccanmetallicrose @themarkblues @gemini0410 @binooo98 @the-jer-bear @abbiesthings @trhett21 @trulysuccubus @leahnicole1219 @starrynite7114 @awkwardtayler @toni9 @queenbeered @kaystacks17 @richonne4life @cocotheclown @oscars-wifeyyy @jennisdirtyimagines @ughdontbeboring @myakai13 @linziland13 @sadeyesgf @brattyfics @sincerelykas @ladyofsoa @pearlkitten33 @tian-monique @megapeacelovemusic-blog @rosieposie0624 @appropriate-writers-name @demonquartz @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @beiroviski @chaneajoyyy @frostingguru @seize-the-droid @cutiebubbleboo @siempremamita @awkwardtayler @relaxing-najee @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @toni9

[evandearest]

Art Deco

Request: Heya hunny bunch! As your requests are still open could you please do a James March x Reader where she stays at the hotel post Liz and Iris’ take over, and she gets along with the other ghosts, which attracts his attention and something kinda blooms from there? Idk if that makes sense? ✨💛 ~@/mavalenovaninagavi

Warnings: maybe language? mentions of alcohol

Notes: ok, so i got kinda carried away with this idea, (and kinda put a little personal twist on it) but i really loved the concept! when the inspiration hits me, i try to use it lol. feedback is really appreciated ♥️

also, you guys can let me know if you want a part two, i’d be willing to make it a mini series :)

Title inspired by “Art Deco” by Lana Del Rey.

Tag List: @evanpeters-petermaximoff @sebastianshoe @mavalenovaninagavi @justanotherahsfan @riotsqrrrrl @ahsx97 @gretaahs @bish-ima-clown​

Main Masterlist

You had always been a fan of the past. You’d always liked to look back at how things used to be, it often helped you have a deeper understanding of yourself. Sometimes, you even felt like you belonged in the past. Like you should’ve been there, but some mess up in time, some warp, per say, had born you into this time.

You never were a fan of the way society was, how toxic and ignorant the new-age social situation was. Looking back at how things used to be, you could almost laugh at how utterly dumb humans were nowadays. You were a fan of a time when things were more extravagant, when people were wiser, and more graceful. The time of when people appreciated just how lucky they were by enjoying it—not posting it on Instagram. Most people nowadays took it for granted, just how much they had. You hated that.

You’d realized many times that there was few people—if any—that shared the same perspective as you. Sometimes, that made you feel disappointed, sad, almost, that no one out there could see things the way you did. You felt that there was absolutely no way you would ever have anyone that would understand your view on the world.

Even though you tended to get along well with everyone, you didn’t have many friends, and it wasn’t necessarily because they didn’t like you—it was just that you couldn’t relate to them. They would never understand where you were coming from, all of them caught up in the modern day affairs that you strayed away from. You just had to accept that.

You’d immediately felt drawn to the hotel. It was like it was calling you, begging you, to enter it’s doors and discover what it had to offer. You were always curious, always ready for adventure, so of course you couldn’t deny the attraction you had to it, couldn’t deny the way gravity seemed to drag you into its embrace.

When you entered, you felt the shift. You felt the way the air changed, to warn you of the dark corners lurking in the proximity. But somehow, despite the warning signals, you couldn’t turn away. You felt calm, comfortable. You felt like it was simply fate that had dragged you into the building, and you didn’t mind. Fate could take the wheel for a change.

Step by step, you had made your way further into the luxurious climate of the “Hotel Cortez”. Your eyes scanned the atmosphere, taking in all of the colors, the style, and the complete authenticity the structure had. You felt excitement bubble within you, for never in your life had you seen something so utterly... perfect. You immediately wondered just how long ago this particular building had been built, knowing no one in your age could’ve had the eyes of someone expressing this style. If you could take a guess, you would say the 1920’s, but you couldn’t be so sure. The whole place screamed the “art deco” style that ravaged the whole 1920’s, the style you so craved to see. You couldn’t believe your eyes.

You’d been greeted with the most unique of faces. Two ladies were standing behind the front desk, and you could tell that this place was their home. Not by the fact that they were behind the desk, but by the sense that they were so comfortable. No normal, everyday person of this age could be comfortable in a place like this. (You being an exception, of course.)

On the right, there was a beautiful woman dressed in extravagant clothing. She was likely someone who knew her way around her own taste, which you admired. She radiated confidence and determination. You could sense it so much so that you could almost feel the emotions yourself, just by being in her presence.

The woman next to her was older, and she seemed tired, in more ways than one. You could see that she was content, but seemed to have an emptiness inside of her. You saw yourself reflected within her, immediately feeling relation and sympathy with the women. You knew how it felt to be out of place, simply not knowing when or where you belong. You felt it more often than not, especially recently.

The ladies seemed to sense your presence, both of them turning to look in your direction. The older woman stared with interest, while the extravagant woman gave you a bright smile. You gave a small smile back, approaching them with soft steps.

“Hello,” the older lady greeted, smiling politely. Your gaze turned to her, your eyes softening at the stress worn woman.

“Hello,” you greeted back, your eyes flicking between the both of them. You noticed their confused stares, and quickly elaborated on your attendance. “I was just stepping in.” Your eyes scanned around you again, glancing at the staircases and the balcony above you. You turned to them again when a thought struck. “Do you happen to have a bar?”

The well-dressed woman smiled, her eyes glimmering with something like excitement. “Yes, I’m the bartender.”

Your eyebrows rose for a moment, the pieces clicking together in your brain. You nodded shortly, acknowledging the information. You hummed in approval, gently swaying on your heels. “I’d love a drink.”

The bartender nodded, gesturing with her arm. “Right this way.” She began to lead you through the lobby. You followed behind her, your eyes peering around in amazement.

Soon enough, you were up on the balcony, which you now knew was the bar. The elegant lady walked behind the counter as you sat down on one of the bar stools.

“The name’s Liz Taylor,” she said, placing her hands on the counter while studying you. “What’ll you have?”

You smiled softly, “Surprise me.” Her eyebrow arched, but she nodded, beginning to make a drink. You could tell she was intrigued.

“{Y/N} {L/N}, by the way,” you introduced yourself as she handed you the drink. You glanced down at it, before raising it to your lips. It looked fruity, but tasted strong. You were surprised at the quality of the drink, and the contrast of the look to the taste. You nodded, licking your lips in satisfaction.

“This is really good,” you said, smiling at her. You were quite impressed, and intrigued, with this “Liz Taylor.”

Liz smiled. “Thank you. I’ve been doing this for many years.”

You arched an eyebrow in surprise. “Really?” You glanced down at the drink again, before settling your eyes back on Liz, a small smirk forming on your lips. “Well I should have guessed, it certainly shows.”

Liz smiled again, gratefully. She paused a moment, seeming to be thinking about something. She looked back at you. “What’s your passion?”

You began diving into how you currently didn’t have a job, but that you’d been through many. You’re conversation quickly spiraled into almost a whole share of backstories. You learned that Liz had a boyfriend named Tristan, and had worked at the Cortez for many years. You could tell something was a little off about her story, and if you were being honest, her in general. You just couldn’t put your finger on it.

Amidst your conversation, you were joined by another interesting-looking person. She had sat next to you while smoking a cigarette, and she had also seemed intrigued by you, very interested in why you were here. You learned that her name was Sally.

You’d chatted with Liz and Sally for nearly two hours, when suddenly you felt a shift in the air. You didn’t know what it was, but all the hairs on the back of your neck seemed to stand alert. Someone new had entered the room.

You turned around, craning your neck to scan the bar area. Your eyes quickly fell upon a man. You were shocked into a trance as soon as you had him in your sight. His slick suit, black hair, thin mustache. The cane he held, the way he stood. His charming atmosphere. It seemed as if he had been pulled out of a 1920’s movie, having been the classic 20’s man in the film. If you were any other person, you might not have noticed that, but you were you, and you’d seen plenty of 20’s films. He was definitely a ghost. You settled on. He has to be.

You were so immersed in him that you didn’t even process that he was approaching you. You were shocked out of your thoughts when the man stood directly in front of you, peering down at you with his dark eyes. His eyes pierced into yours so intensely you felt like you were dreaming. You didn’t know whether it was the alcohol or him, but you suddenly felt very dizzy. He looked away from you only at the sound of Sally’s voice.

“Hello James,” she said, and you didn’t miss the hint of venom in her voice. His eyes shifted to her and he seemed to be bored as soon as his eyes landed on her.

“Sally,” he replied, and you seemed to be frozen at the sound of his voice. His voice. A pure 1920’s accent.

His eyes transferred back to you, before going to Liz behind you. You couldn’t see her, but by the questioning gaze he was giving her, you could tell she got the hint.

“This is {Y/N},” she informed him, “she was just stopping in.” His eyes flicked back to yours before his lips turned upward in a small smirk. The next thing you knew, he was kissing the back of your hand. Your heart thumped wildly in your chest as butterflies erupted in your stomach simultaneously.

You knew you should be wary, this man was a complete stranger. But for some reason, you didn’t feel any fear. You felt safe, in fact, safer than you’d felt in a long time. You felt calm.

He pulled his lips back with a smirk before speaking. “Tell me, {Y/N}, what was it that brought you to my hotel?”

His hotel. You didn’t know if you believed in ghosts before, but you definitely did now. The way he said your name made your whole body go warm, to the point that your knees felt like jelly.

You stared up at him with big eyes, not quite being able to find your words. He was too intoxicating; even the strong alcohol in your bloodstream couldn’t compare to him. He simply rendered you speechless.

“I-I... uh,” you stumbled for words, but as he looked down at you almost softly, all your nerves seemed to fade away. You felt the same calm feeling that you’d felt when you first made your way into the hotel. The words seemed to come to you. “I just felt drawn to this place, honestly.”

‘James’, as Sally had called him, arched an eyebrow and tilted his head slightly. “That’s interesting,” he spoke clearly, his eyes studying you carefully. “What was it that attracted your attention?”

“James,” Sally suddenly interrupted, making you remember that there were still other people in the room. “Leave the poor girl alone.” She rolled her eyes, annoyance in her voice. Your eyes snapped back to James when you noticed he was still staring at you for an answer; having completely ignored Sally.

“Well, the building’s so beautiful, for one thing,” you said, deciding to ignore Sally too. He smiled at you, excitement glimmering in his eyes.

“Isn’t it just extravagant?” He linked your arm with his slightly firm one, and politely walked you over to the balcony. He smiled as he admired the lobby. You smiled too, but you were more focused on admiring him.

“Yes, it has the best style. I’ve always liked the 1920’s.” He looked over at you, and you noticed the slight surprise on his expression. You smirked at that, deciding that you quite liked surprising him.

James looked at you with a sudden seriousness. “I must admit, I’m impressed.” He paused as he watched a smile forming on your lips, one of his own accompanying yours. “There’s not many left out there that still think so.”

“I’m very aware of that, believe me.” You looked down at your hands, your eyebrows furrowing a little in thought. “It’s cost me quite a lot in life.”

Your eyes widened slightly when you felt his hand on the side of your face, cupping your cheek. You stared into his eyes shyly as he looked at yours with a sudden certainty.

“And why is that, darling? Who could possibly not be... infatuated by you?” He watched you as you swallowed nervously, a deep breath passing your lips.

“A lot of people aren’t.” You bit your lip as your anxiety spiked at your honest confession. You had no idea why you were telling him this, you just felt very comfortable in a way even you couldn’t explain. You stared at your feet, afraid to meet his eyes.

He let out a sound, reminiscent of a hum, before tilting your chin up to meet his eyes. “That’s obscene.” He let out a breathy laugh, rocking on his heels slightly. He looked pretty shocked, which surprised you. “I’ll be honest, {Y/N}, I am a fairly easy specimen to bore.” You giggled softly at that. “However, when I first laid sight on you, chatting with Liz and Iris, it can be assured that I was not bored. Rather, intrigued, by your aura.” You raised your eyebrows, surprise taking over you.

“Really?” You let out breathily, quietly, while looking up at him in disbelief. You seemed to have lost your voice. You really couldn’t wrap your head around what was happening. He was intrigued by me?

He suddenly leaned down, his breath tickling your ear softly, making a chill run down your spine. He breathed out, his lips grazing your ear. Butterflies exploded in your stomach as your breath caught in your throat. You could smell his distinct scent; cigarette smoke, cologne, and some type of alcohol that you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“Indeed.”

It was only one word, but it had much more of an impact on you. You felt like your knees were about to give out underneath you, like you couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move.

He pulled back slowly, looking down at you with a strange expression. You’d seen it before, and it could only be described as one thing: need.

You let out the breath you were holding slowly, never once breaking eye contact with him. He put a hand out to you, a charming grin taking over his features.

“So, tell me, darling. Since you’ve been apprised your desire of the hotel, would you like to appease my fascination for you?”

[demons-mind]

Pierce x Lady Bish 2B

Story Time, (Yes I thought of a story for this one):

So after many years after they're home was destroyed and were on their own (Lady Bish had Zex but still) they ended up in the fire kingdom. Pierce training to be a loyal soldier for the army and Bish working her way up to get her sweet revenge.

Walking in the halls they accidentally bump into each other, not realizing who each other was at first, got into a little fight. But once they realized who the other person was they jumped into each other's arms never wanting to let him/her go.

Just being happy knowing they're childhood friend didn't suffer, and is right here with them right now.

End of "story"

It's been quite a while since I posted a Pierce x Lady Bish picture so I figured why not just do 2B of my art challenge of the two. Also yes I'm starting up this challenge again. (because I didn't even get halfway done of finishing it)

Hope you all still like it 💚💚💚

[demons-mind]

Me: So Bish, What's on your mind 😏😏😏

LB: (snapped out of her thoughts) Eh-what? Nothing! And that's Lady Bish too you!!!😡😡😡

Me: Yes queen.😏😏😏

LB: 😐😡🤭😡

___________________________________________

Hope you guys like Lady Bish simping over Pierce 💙💙💙

[demons-mind]

So a part of my AU is that Pierce and Lady Bish come for the same place, and they were close friends before things went the shit for both of them.

Also when I get a stylist I will be redrawing and coloring it in.

Hope you guys like it.

And no Ava and Rhal has no idea about each other

[utterlyhopeful-fics]

The Bet

Working on a possible Part 3 of Prospect and close to finishing Work in Progress-Part 2 (I’m officially going to hell with this twisty little story. No shame.)

Masterlist 

Bishop Losa x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k 

Warnings: angsttt

***********************************************

Humiliation simmered feverishly underneath her flushed skin. Tequila coursed hastily through her veins engulfing her senses all the way. This was definitely not how she predicted the day ending when she woke up this morning. So, Y/N sat by her lonesome surrounded by handsy strangers, neon beer signs, and cheap drinks in a dive bar an hour outside of Santo Padre.

With her drink in hand, she chugged the poisonous liquid wallowing in its delightful burn. Before she could raise her glass for another, the bartender instantly slid two shots of tequila her way.

“Drinking to forget tonight?”

“Something like that. Can I ask a favor, bartender man?”

“It’s Ollie and you already did, technically. Shoot.”

“I’m incredibly sad tonight. So, if you wouldn’t mind cutting me off at midnight, it’d be much appreciated.”

“Anything for a pretty lady.” Ollie tipped his head your direction before throwing an understanding smile. Cheers to the brokenhearted.

*Two Hours Earlier*

“Obispo…”

Her piercing stare strangled his nerves vehemently, he didn’t feel like the confident president he was so accustomed to playing. Y/N was different, she always was to him. Initially, he observed her from afar never wandering too close. 

It began with a simple exchange of words one night until it shortly became every night. Before he could realize what was happening, he was the one seeking her out, drawn to her like a moth to a summer flame. He obliged willingly every time.

“Princesa, please look at me.”

His hand graced her cheek, cupping lightly wanting to memorize any small detail he hadn’t yet admired. He was going to destroy her, reject her, and ruthlessly send her on her way after he had all but claimed her as his girl.

His life was beginning to show glaringly obvious signs that danger was on the horizon and there was no way in hell Bishop would chance fate. He knew just how cruel the hand of god could be and he dared not test his enemies this early on. Bish made the difficult decision of ending it with Y/N, that is until she unexpectedly beat him to the punch.

Refusing to meet his eyes, Y/N inhaled deeply; “I, uh, overhead Riz and Angel chatting today, and they brought up an interesting topic.”

“Do tell.”

“They said something about an ongoing bet. Ring any bells?”

Bishop’s heart prematurely ceased, all motor functions temporarily out of commission as he stood frozen in fear.

“Y/N, I can explain. It was a long ti—”

“Stop. I’m talking now and it’s your turn to listen, for once.”

He simply nodded unwilling to push the limits any further.

“So, was it to make me fall in love with you or how fast you could get me into bed?”

Shocked discharged throughout the air, tension slowly began to choke Bishop as he searched for any way out of this...with his girl by his side. Admittedly, it all started as a laughable joke, a simple conquest of a mission he was confident in.

Her saddened eyes reminded him of a stray animal, one newly abandoned, and simply searching for someone to love her. He happily agreed until now. He had no other choice than to force her out of his reach and wish her a better life, one that didn’t include the troubles of a man like himself.

Y/N had courageously stood in his corner defending him with all the wind her lungs could gather, but it wasn’t enough. She was a brilliant woman who undoubtedly amused him giving him the deepest belly laughs after everyone left. And then he made the mistake of falling in love with her.

“I need to learn how to stop destroying myself. I knew you were too good to be true. I mean, of course it was a bet.” Her voice shook with sadness as tears travelled to the forefront waiting for release.

Bishop knew there was nobody to blame but the man in the mirror. Somewhere along the way, he decided to bury the truth with pretty ribbons convincing himself he was saving her from further pain. This was bound to bite him in the ass and karma certainly followed in tow. 

The reality of the situation made Bishop internally chuckle. Man goes to break it off with Woman and the inverse option happens. Except since Bishop hadn’t been the initiator, the plan didn’t sit so well with him anymore. He no longer had the upper hand.

“Listen to me, please! It might have started as a senseless prank, but I fell for you, and I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you, so I selfishly kept it a secret. I didn’t want to be the cause of your pain.”

“And I was supposed to never find out and remain a running joke to your club? Unbelievable.”

He was dumbstruck and inaudibly compliant to the enraged woman before him.

“I regret opening up to you, to what I assumed were my friends. They didn’t deserve to know me like that, but especially…especially not you.”

“I’m sorry! Let’s just go home, make a pot of coffee, and talk some more.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I need space. I can’t breathe with you suffocating me right now.”

“Where you gonna go?” Concern etched its way into his tone.

“I’ll call Vickie. I’m sure she can make room for one more.”

“Can I call you tomorrow?”

“I don’t think so.”

“So, will you call me?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Damnit, will you just look at me?”

“Why? So, you can lie straight to my face again?”

Bishop deserved her wrath, every cut her venomous tongue wittingly conjured. Shamefully, he knew this was a losing battle and dejectedly accepted the spewed words from the one woman he wasn’t supposed to hurt.

“I know I can’t make this right immediately, but give me the chance to prove you wrong, that I am still the man you chose…choose to love. I’m so so sorry, sweetheart.”

“You could do me a tremendous favor and just let me go.”

“No, I can’t do that. There’s no turning back for me, Y/N.”

“WELL, YOU SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT ABOUT THAT BEFORE YOU DECIDED I WAS A FUCKING BET!”

Her chest angerly heaved as her breaths continuously seeped out her lungs. She was as still as a statue. Her shoulders locked into rigidity. Soon enough though, the anger dissipated from her muscles as disappointment retreated into their place.

“I’ll call if or when I’m ready. Until then, leave me the fuck alone Bishop.”