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Sooooo I see that you posted recently so I have to ask bishop & Lilly or bishop & Gracie will they make an appearance again I can’t tell you how much I miss them
Oh they'll definitely be back 😁 I have partial updates for both in my drafts. It's just juggling 2 part time jobs, helping with our farm and running a small business... It's hard to find time to write like I used to!
A strained groan filtered into the hallway from the training room. Bucky's feet faltered as Sam's voice followed it.
"Push, Lee, push!"
Bucky turned the corner hesitantly, he'd been hoping to get the room to himself, hoping that everyone was still in bed. Instead, he found Paisley, seated at his favorite piece of equipment and Sam standing over her. He spoke words of encouragement, occasionally touching her shoulder as he hyped her up.
"Go! Go! Five more!" He talked loudly, over the constant clink of the weights. Feet flat on the platform, Paisley pushed with her legs, lifting the series of weights and then in a slow, controlled movement, she brought her knees to her chest and lowered the weights again. God, even covered in sweat with her curls escaping her bun, she was beautiful. Bucky's eyes honed in on the number of weights and the tiny number on the weights. Totaling them quickly in his head, he let out a surprised huff. Damn, she must have the strongest thighs.
"You coming in, or are you gonna linger in the doorway like a creep?" Sam's voice rose to address him, but he didn't turn away from where Paisley continued to pump her legs.
Bucky's cheeks turned pink and he was suddenly glad no one turned to look at him. Narrowing his eyes, he walked right past them, mumbling a rough 'good morning.' One teasing question and he was already done with Sam for the day. That had to be a new record.
With his eyes downcast, he stepped on to a treadmill. Starting at a jog, he quickly ramped it up to a sprint, trying to chase away his embarrassment along with the nightmares that had woke him so early. He watched from the corner of his eye as Paisley let the weights drop, sitting upright. Sam handed her a bottle of water and for once, as a droplet of condensation dripped down her neck, trailing toward her cleavage, Bucky wished he didn't have super-soldier-eye-sight. Looking down at his feet, he tried hard to push images of her from his mind.
Pulling his mind out of the lusty gutter it had fallen into, Bucky lifted his head to see them moving on to a mat almost directly in front of him. Stretching a bit first, the pair took up a sparring position. He watched in awe, amazed at how fast Paisley was. Something about her movement was off, the way her feet moved. Her steps were almost clumsy... She dodged the punches Sam hurtled at her easily, landing a few of her own here and there. However, it didn't take long for her to tire out. She didn't have the stamina to fight a trained military man. Most people didn't. So when Sam lunged at her again it was no surprise that he landed his next blow. What did surprise him though was that he felt the hit at the... Exact. Same. Time.
It happened all at once. Two groans filled the air. Two pairs of hands came up to hold their stomach. Bucky just barely hit the emergency stop on the treadmill, nearly falling on his face in the process. Sam looked on with wide brown eyes as his sister sunk to the floor, pressing a hand to her side. Slowly, with a cool, calculating expression, he turned his eyes on his friend. Bucky's hand pressed to the same spot on his body, his mouth hanging open as he looked back at him.
"Oh, hell no! " Sam yelled, turning his entire body to face Bucky's doubled over form. "No, no, no, NO! MY SISTER?"
Bucky looked just as surprised, between his run and the punch to the side, he felt like he couldn't breathe. Like all the air had been sucked from his lungs. His mouth opened and closed as he straightened up, the shared pain already fading.
On the floor, Paisley sat on her knees, hands still pressed to her side, she too was breathing hard. Wide hazel eyes met his, a foreign emotion flashing in them. Her pink lips parted as if to say something, but no words formed.
"Well, someone say something!" Sam bellowed, unable to take the heavy silence a moment longer.
"I-"
"Not. You." He gritted through pearly white teeth, glaring hard at his friend.
Bucky snapped his mouth shut, pressing his lips together hard. Fucking fine. He'd stand here and say nothing.
"You alright, Lee?" Sam reached for her hand, pulling her up off the mat. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you, you have got to remember to tuck your elbows in."
Paisley nodded at him, pushing herself up as Sam pulled her hand. Shit, did she just find her soulmate? Did she travel the entire continent only to have stumbled upon him when visiting her brother? "I-I'm good." She hissed as Sam pinched her arm.
Bucky subconsciously touched his own arm, feeling the twinge through their link.
"I don't believe this." Sam cried, stepping back as she slapped at his hand.
"Yeah, me either." She agreed with him under her breath. Bucky heard it though, how couldn't he? Damn super-soldier-hearing. He felt his heart sink into his stomach. She didn't want him. Of course she didn't want him. He was a monster. A murder. A fucked-up, traumatized, freak.
Unable to look her in the eye, Bucky dropped his gaze to the floor, walking past them as quickly as he could without all out running. He couldn't stand here and risk seeing the disappointment fill her eyes. He wouldn't be able to breathe if he saw that. He felt physically ill, like he was going to puke. In the hallway, when he was sure they couldn't see him, he ran. Back at his room, he slammed the door behind him, locking it as he stumbled toward the bathroom. He made it just in time to hurl what little breakfast he'd eaten back into the toilet. Sweat coated his entire body as his stomach churned again, clenching as it pushed up every once of food he'd eaten in the last twenty-four hours.
"Holy hell! " He groaned, flushing the toilet as he sank back against the sink. Is this what it felt like to be rejected by a soulmate? He felt as if his body was tearing apart at the seams, slowly deteriorating from the inside out. His heart raced as the familiar feelings of a panic attack gripped him. Bucky curled in on himself, breathing ragged, hands shaking, a cold sweat dampening his forehead. He was so wrapped up in his own panic, he barely heard the pounding on his door.
"Bucky!" Someone yelled from the hallway. "Bucky! You open this door right now!" He heard him, but he couldn't move. He was too frozen. Too stuck in his head. Concentrating too hard on trying to breathe. He nearly jumped out of his skin when the door flew open, banging against the wall. Suddenly, Sam was kneeling in front of him, hands gripping his shoulders, shaking him not so gently.
"Bucky! Bucky, calm down! I swear to God, Buck, if you kill my sister over some messed up, self-destructive, stuck in my feelings bullshit, I will fucking kill you! Snap. Out. Of. It!" Sam shouted at him, shaking him harshly, only when he slapped his friend across the cheek did his eyes seem to refocus. "Fucking finally ! Pull it together, man! She's down there in the gym puking on the floor!"
Bucky sat up straighter, shoving Sam's hands away. He sucked in a breath like he had been underwater this whole time. "Get off of me!"
"Then pull your shit together!"
"She doesn't want m-me!" Bucky whimpered, his voice cracking at the end as an unexpected sadness washed over him. "She doesn't..." He sucked in another breath, feeling the burn in his eyes that told him he was about to cry right here in front of Sam.
"Get a hold of yourself!" Sam reached forward again, fisting Bucky's shirt and jerking him forward. "She never said that, now calm the fuck down before you send her into another panic attack."
Bucky stilled, only now realizing she was suffering alongside him. "Shit!"
"Yeah, shit is right, man, what the hell!" Sam released him then, standing up and offering him a hand. "Now get your ass up." Bucky looked up at him with wide eyes, guilt washing over him as he thought about Paisley. "Take my damn hand and get up." Sam hissed. Bucky hesitated before finally reaching up, letting Sam haul him to his feet.
"I... I'm sorry." Bucky apologized, eyes falling to the floor.
"Listen, just clean yourself up and go talk to her. She never said she didn't want you, so don't jump to conclusions."
"Why would she?" Bucky snapped, whipping his head up and fixing him with a hard glare. "Why would someone so sweet want anything to do with me?" He fisted his hands, smacking his own chest. "I'm a monster, Sam! A murder!"
Sam clicked his tongue, a look of sorrow filling his brown eyes. "You're not those things anymore, Buck. That's all over. You're James Buchanan Barnes, the White Wolf, an avenger, a friend." He reached over then, gripping his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "You're past is not who you are anymore. We all know that, she knows that. You gotta forgive yourself, man. It's time to move on. She's your soulmate... As gross as that is to think about it. My sister is the one person in this world designed especially for you, and you for her. Don't make this choice for her because you're panicking. Give her a chance, Buck."
He couldn't reply, there were too many emotions clogging his throat. Instead, he looked away, staring hard at the wall as a single tear escaped the corner of his eye. His jaw clenched as he fought to control himself, his empty hands aching to grab something, hold it tight, ground himself. He nodded, sniffing as Sam stepped back and let him go.
"Get a shower, your ass stinks."
Bucky chuckled them, despite everything, he laughed. Slapping Sam on the back as he walked away, he pushed the broken door shut as far as it would go and stripped out of his clothes. Stepping into the shower he let the hot water wash away the tears, the frustration, the remaining panic. He scrubbed everything away, watching it swirl down the drain as he reigned in his intense feelings. He'd never felt like this before. So hopeful, so full of joy and then to have it all squashed like a bug. It gave him whiplash, made him physically sick, had him literally throwing up.
Bucky stuck his head under the water, closing his eyes as it ran down his face. The hot water relaxed his tight muscles, the steam opening up his airways in a way that settled him. Finally, he turned the handle and shut the water off, grabbing a towel from the rack and wrapping it around him. By the time he had dried off, changed into something comfortable and mustered up the courage to leave his room, it was well past noon and he couldn't find Paisley anywhere.
Sooooo much happened in episode 9 of Mayans y'all! Wow! Who wants to talk about it????? The way Bishop smiled at the end, while bowling... Guys it made me SO happy.
Brooo tell me why I found that part hilarious! Like Ez saw an opportunity and TOOK IT. And then he sat there, looked Manny in the eyes and apologized for his loss. 🤣 Boy, oh boy, that's ice cold. I'm not even mad about it, guy had it coming for a while now.
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UMMMM how about that last episode of Mayans?! 😱 Will Adelita tell Angel???? What she did was brutal, but so was her being tortured and having her baby taken away. @est1887
Loving it! Haven't watched this week's episode yet, but I love that Ez got a dog! Still desperately hoping for for Nails and Hank to get together... I'm sorry but her and Angel just ain't it. I feel like he's just with her out of duty and I hate it. I'm disappointed with Bishop he's been my favorite since episode 1 and he's spiraling. I miss that smile! 😭
When fem!Reader seeks to become the new prospect of the Mayans MC, she has a long, hard road ahead of her. It’s a man’s world and if she wants a seat at the table, she must forge one herself through blood, sweat, and tears.
The last thing she needs is the budding attraction she feels toward Bishop Losa. She’s worked too hard to earn her place and one night in El Presidente’s bed would send it all up in smoke.
As a rival gang moves into Santo Padre with the intention of overthrowing the Mayans, Reader is put to the test. How far will she go to fight for her club, her brothers, and the man she loves?
Series warnings: 18+ only, language, blood, acts of violence, misogyny, sexual themes, past abusive relationship.
Chapter word count: 1.4k
Author’s Note: no use of y/n and I do my best to remain neutral in Reader’s descriptions as much as possible. I also have NOT seen Sons of Anarchy yet so if I mess up on certain details, please let me know and I’ll fix it! :)
General Masterlist | Read on Ao3
(divider by @firefly-graphics)
I didn’t give myself a chance to be nervous as I marched up the steps to the bar’s front door. If I faltered for even a moment, I knew I would lock up. This wasn’t the first time I had approached an MC for membership but it never got any easier either.
Ya'll our tattooed, leather wearing, bike riding, beefy boys are coming back. Tonight. Who's excited???? Unfortunately, I wont be able to watch it live, but you better believe I'll be on Hulu tomorrow and possibly searching for spoilers tonight... Also I’ve been back to updating my fanfics.... (Evil Laughter) HAHAHA
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Imagine getting in an argument with Bishop and you say something disrespectful in front of the club and he tells you to "watch your pretty mouth before you get your shit rocked." 😅
My first time attempting to write for the Mayans, please be gentle. I also twisted the prompt a bit.
English is my first language, all mistakes are because I am lazy and dumb.
***********************************************
“Geez, do you always miss the hole that bad?” You watched the 8-ball bounce off the rail next to the corner pocket and come to a rest in the middle of the table.
Bishop wrapped his hands around the top of his pool cue and just smirked at you across the table, shaking his head slightly. This had become your routine at the last couple parties at the club house, as the nights start winding down you find yourself at the pool table with the president talking shit while he watches you in amusement, every once in awhile throwing out a jab of his own. You’re not quite sure why you feel the need to be so mouthy in his presence, but every time he gives you that smirk and you feel your insides flip flop, you think that might have something to do with it. He is the president however, so you do your best to keep it to good natured smack talk versus out right disrespect. So far you’ve been really good at toeing that line.
“But you did line up my shot for me beautifully, Bish,” you say as you lean over the table, lining up your shot. Maybe you’re leaning over more than necessary, but hey, your boobs look good tonight, may as well. “Let me show you how to properly handle a pair of balls.”
You pull the cue back, giving it a sharp snap forward into the white ball, but before it can make contact with the eight ball, a hand shoots out and snatches it off the table. You shoot straight up, staring at Bishop as he leans against the table with his arms crossed, holding the cue ball in front of him like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.
“Yo, what the fuck,” you say, laying the cue across the table and storming over to him. “To scared to lose to a girl, el presidente? Gotta protect that image, huh? Don’t want your guys to see el jefe go down?” You look over at the couple of Mayans still on the couch. They are frozen with their eyes darting between you and their leader.
Maybe you just happened to find that line.
“Out.”
One word from Bishop and the guys are scrambling off the couch and out the door. You have a split second of worry that maybe you had gone too far when he turns back to you.
“Watch that pretty little mouth before you get your shit rocked, querida.”
Your mind is whirling. Other than a few smirks and scoffs, he’s never really engaged with your competitiveness in the game, just letting you run off at the mouth. You weigh the words, wondering which line you had just stomped across. Taking a closer look at the man in front of you, his eyes dark, but not with anger, and you decide since no one is around to witness your humiliation if you are wrong, so you decide to jump the line with both feet.
You look up into his eyes, let your tongue run across your bottom lip so it just peeks out and watch his eyes track the movement.
(Shockingly, I had many people ask for a continuation - here it is, and also my first time writing smut. Thanks for the guidance @chibsytelford )
Bishop leans in, eyes still on your lips and it amazes you how fast your body responds. Fire runs down your spine, settling low in your core, your entire body clenching at the thought of what is to come. Your eyes just about make it closed when they pop open again at the sound of the cue ball knocking on the table behind you.
Bishop never takes his eyes off you as he steps around you, so close he almost drags against your chest, to the end of the pool table. He picks up the stick you had discarded on the table and leans it against the wall. Bending down, he lines up the shot, barely taking his eyes off you to do it. You watch his arms flex as he brings the cue forward, expertly sinking the eight ball.
“You know that was still my shot, right?” The question comes out far more breathy than you intended, but you still haven’t recovered from his nearness before.
Bishop sets his cue across the table, not with the anger you did earlier, no. He sets his down soft, barely making a sound like he’s trying not to scare away his prey, slowly stepping out around the table until he is right in front of you again. His arms cage you in on both sides and if you take a deep enough breath, you chest will be pressed against his.
“I was proving a fucking point, sweetheart.”
“Oh, yea? What would that be? You need a practice round to figure things out?”
“That I’ve been going easy on you.” His hands come to your hips and you instinctually put your hands on his shoulders as he lifts you to perch on the edge of the pool table. “But I think it’s time to see what other noises you can make.”
With no warning, Bishop’s mouth crashes into yours, his hand coming to the back of your neck to make sure you stayed where he wanted you. His free hand came down and pushed your legs apart causing your skirt to ride up past your hips leaning your panties exposed. He rubs a finger softly down your clothed folds, a stark contrast to the harshness of his kiss and your whole body erupts in a shiver as he pulls away from your mouth.
“So wet already, querida? Let’s get these out of the way, yeah?” You lift your hips just enough for him to slide your panties off under your hips. He drags them and his hands torturously down your legs, before stepping back up between your knees and putting your panties in his pocket.
“Uh, excuse me, but you’re going to give those-,” your words catch in your throat as he slides a finger swiftly inside you, all the way up to his knuckles as his thumb lands square on your clit.
He leans forward, dragging his beard along your cheek, until his lips are are at your ear. “Seems I’m better at hitting the hole than you gave me credit for, sweetheart.” His lips come back to yours as he starts moving his thumb in circles, and adding another finger, spreading them slightly just to put some tension on your walls. You feel him against your leg, the bulge straining against the denim and your hands automatically go to the button on his jeans. If his fingers have you a trembling mess, you can only imagine what he can do with his dick.
“Not yet, baby, I’m going to make you cum like this, then I’m going to fuck you until you can’t run that mouth anymore.”
His fingers speed up, pumping in and out of you hitting that special spot with just the slightest adjustment, making your moans the only thing louder than the sound of your wetness in the empty room. His thumb is rubbing rapid circles on your clit and you know it won’t be much longer.
“Obispo, please...”
His teeth nip at your neck as you explode around his fingers, your walls greedily clenching, trying to pull them deeper. He slows his movements but doesn’t stop completely until you sag against his cheek, forehead resting on his shoulder.
You haven’t even caught your breath yet before you are pawing at his jeans again. “Need you, Bish, please.”
“Now she can be nice, huh?” He brings his lips to yours as he works on getting his pants down far enough to get his dick out. You pull away from his mouth to gasp as you feel his head at your entrance and you thank god you are as wet as you are because he feels huge. He takes a half a step closer and pushes into your slick heat. Your head tips back and you bring your legs around his hips, pulling him into you all the way in one smooth motion, relishing in the stretch of your walls as he bottoms out. You’ve never felt so full in your life.
“You got anything to say now, sweetheart?”
You loosen your legs just enough for him to snap his hips out and into you again and you can’t even begin to describe the sounds coming out of your mouth. You sound like a woman possessed, moans mixed with whines, unfinished words spilling into other words and he relententlessly pounds into you. You can already feel the tension in your belly, your orgasm right on the brink already.
His hand tangles in your hair, holding your head as he brings his sinful lips back to your ear, giving it a quick nip. “You going to cum on my cock, too, querida? Gunna let me fill you up while your pussy squeezes every last drop from my dick, yeah?”
You can barely hear the filth pouring from his mouth as your second orgasm in just minutes rips through you. You know he can feel your clenches when his hips stutter and just a couple more thrusts and you can feel him twitch inside you.
“Fuck, Y/N,” he breathes as he cums, hips shuttering against you, arms wrapped around you and his face buried in your neck. Your hand comes up to the back of his head, dragging your nails against his scalp, but not letting your legs loosen around his hips just yet.
Eventually he lifts his head, making eye contact with you again, that ever present smirk on his face. You can feel his cock twitch, still inside in you, stiffening again.
Important question... Where do you see Gracie and Bishop heading? Last we saw them, Bish was cooking breakfast and chasing away some of her fear. Would y'all rather see a time jump for the next update or a next day, Coco, Letty reaction scenario??
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Gif Rights: Who ever the beautiful soul was that made this!! This is not mine, simply one I found and liked.
Warnings: Swearing, Angst
As always, I do NOT own anything Mayans related. I DO own my character and her story though.
My first language is English. I do know some Spanish but I am not fluent. I will be keeping the Spanish in this story to a minimum to avoid butchering a beautiful language. There will be some usage of terms of endearment and stuff though, praying they make sense!
Gracie yawned, groaning as she stretched. Shifting a bit, she inhaled deeply, the smell of Bishop still lingered there. She'd been sleeping in his bed for just over a month now, Bishop on the other hand still stubbornly slept on the couch in the living room. Every time she brought it up, he grumbled something along the lines of 'not letting a pregnant woman sleep on the fucking couch.' After trying on multiple occasions to give him back his bed, she sat him down and insisted she was either taking a turn on the couch or going back to Coco's. Bishop had practically begged her not to go, insisting that the couch was fine, that she deserved a comfortable bed. He continuously pulled the pregnancy card, so she quit fighting him... For now.
Gracie pushed herself up with only minor discomfort. Her stomach had grown in the past weeks, making daily tasks slightly harder than normal. She had to abandon her tee shirts at this point in her pregnancy. Nothing fit right anymore, so she had taken to wearing Bishop's shirts to bed... And sometimes throughout the day. They were comfortable and they smelled good too.
"Good morning."
Bishop was standing by the stove, stirring something in a pan. He turned when he heard her speak, a soft smile lifting his mustache. Dark eyes flicked over her, taking in his own shirt, hanging to nearly her knees. Beneath it she wore her sleep shorts, not that he could see them right now, but he knew they were there. She was still way too shy to walk around the house without them... Even though he wished she would. "Buenos días, querida."
Gracie's cheeks bloomed that pretty pink that Bishop loved so much. He watched her cross the kitchen, stopping right in front of him, a shy smile on her face. Unable to help himself, Bishop leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her rosey cheek. As predicted, her blush deepened, her small feet shifting awkwardly.
"W-What are you making?" Gracie stammered, trying hard to calm her pounding heart.
"Come look." Bishop put a gentle hand on her back, guiding her to stand where he had been. The low baritone to his voice washed over her, raising goosebumps in it's wake. She did as he said, peering into the pan curiously, her embarrassment momentarily forgotten. "We call it Mess. Eggs, sausage, peppers, cheese, whatever you want. Just throw the whole thing together and cook it."
"So... No pancakes today?"
Bishop chuckled, his right hand reaching around her to stir the mixture in the pan. His other hand came up to her hip. Giving it a gentle squeeze, he teased her, "aren't you sick of them yet?"
"Never!"
"I made you pancakes every day for the last month!"
Gracie shrugged, her body brushing his with the movement. Bishop laughed again, sliding his hand from her hip, across her round stomach, to her other side. His arm curling comfortably around her middle. Tugging her back against his chest, he leaned forward and rest his chin on her shoulder. "I'll make you pancakes if you would rather, princesa."
Gracie's mouth watered as the smell wafted up at her. "No, this looks good." Turning her face toward him, she grinned mischievously over her shoulder. "I guess we can switch it up today."
Bishop's breath puffed over her as he emitted a deep laugh, tilting his head forward, he pressed another kiss to her cheek. "Okay, if you insist." He teased her, grinning as he stepped back to let her escape. From the corner of his eye he could see her stretching to reach the dishes from the cabinet. "I can get those, querida."
"It's okay, I don't mind!" Gracie huffed in her effort to reach. Bishop mumbled something under his breath that sounded like 'stubborn girl.' She ignored him, pulling the dishes out and setting the table against his wishes. When she was satisfied, she opened the fridge and got out their usual juice and coffee creamer.
"Can you grab the salsa and hot peppers too, please?" Bishop threw over his shoulder. " And ketchup, if you want it!"
"Ketchup? On eggs?" Gracie wrinkled her nose, looking at him with wide eyes.
"Don't look so horrified, sweetheart, lots of people like ketchup with their eggs."
"If you say so..." Gracie got the bottle out as he suggested, even if she had no desire to try it. She moved to the coffee pot, about to reach for their mugs, but Bishop tutted at her.
"Gracie, I can get that!"
"I can do it!"
"I know you can, but you don't need to." Grabbing a hot pad from beside the stove, Bishop sat the pan of Mess on the table. Striding across the room to her, he snatched the pot of coffee from under the machine before she could. Pressing against her back, he reached over her head to grab their usual mugs. Leaning forward, he nuzzled her neck playfully. "Go. Sit."
Easing back, he left her scurry away, giving her a stern look, only to have it broken by the smile he couldn't keep off his face. Gracie huffed at him, but listened nonetheless, retreating to her chair with false attitude. Crossing her arms, she sat with a humph. Her anger only lasted a minute before she leaned over the pan and sniffed loudly.
"Okay, this smells amazing." She beamed at him from her chair, waiting until the was seated before reaching for the spatula. He watched her hesitate for a second, her eyes flicking up to look at him, but when she found him smiling back at her, she continued. Scooping out a healthy amount of the egg mixture, she first piled his plate and then her own.
Her appetite had grown this month, along with her stomach. Not only did she look rounder and slightly more uncomfortable, but Bishop found her even more beautiful than he did when she first arrived. She was no longer afraid to speak to him while they ate, conversation flowed easier between them and more often than not, she was able to finish all her food without getting too full. All of these things brought him relief. They proved that she was settling in, trusting him, her body getting used to regular meals once again. Her progress made him proud and he found himself more and more attracted to her as the days went on.
What truly made him happy though was her attitude. Be it the hormones or her confidence returning, he wasn't sure, but she had taken to arguing with him. Not aggressively and not all the time, but occasionally she would put up a real fight over something. The other week it was over him sleeping on the couch, she felt bad about stealing his bed. Two days ago it was was about her insisting on doing a load of his laundry. Crossing her arms, huffing, talking back. Hell, she even stomped her foot if she got too riled up. Normally, these things would have irked him, pressed his buttons, but considering how fearful she was in the beginning, Bishop welcomed her attitude now. Her little moods were amusing and he'd take a thousand mini arguments any day over her cowering away from him in fear.
Bishop watched her stuff the last forkful of eggs in her mouth before jumping to her feet. Her plate clean, her mouth full. He hid a grin as she scooped up as many dishes as she could carry and hurried to the sink before he could stop her. This was something new she'd started this week. If she finished eating before him, she would try to clean up as much as she possibly could before he stopped her. The first time it happened, they're argued. He wanted her to relax, she wanted to help, she got angry. Now, he gave her a few minutes head start before he intervened. He understood her need to be helpful, and he appreciated it, but he also didn't want her to fall back into old habits. She had this need to "earn her keep" that had been drilled into her for so long, she still struggled to kick it. The cooking, the cleaning, the keeping house... All of it had been forced on her for so long that it had become second nature. He hated it. Bishop was not her ex and he tried damn hard to never do anything that would put him in the same category as that asshole.
Pushing his plate away, he stood up, the thought of her ex ruining his appetite. Crossing the kitchen, he pulled a leftover container from the cabinet. From the corner of his eye, Bishop caught her squirting some soap into the sink, preparing to wash dishes. Biting his tongue, he went back to the table, packing away the remaining food for later. Once the leftovers and the toppings were back in the fridge, Bishop gathered his own dishes and walked to the sink. He reached around her, sliding the dishes into the soapy water gently to avoid a splash. He let his arms circle her, his left hand clamped into the edge of the sink, anchoring them in place. His right hand came to rest on her rounded stomach, rubbing softly, he grinned as a familiar fluttering feeling greeted him.
Gracie pushed out a breathy laugh, "yeah, baby, I feel him too." Dropping her head back on to his shoulder, her eyes found his. "She likes you, Obi."
Dipping his chin, Bishop pressed a kiss to Gracie's forehead, rubbing her stomach again in search of that kicking. When it met his hand a second time he chuckled. "I can't wait to meet you, princesa." Brushing another kiss on to Gracie's temple, he said, "You're officially over halfway, querida."
Gracie's chest tightened, "you're keeping track?"
Bishop nuzzled her neck, his grin stretching over her skin. "Counting down the days until we get to meet her."
Turning in his arms, Gracie wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him awkwardly around her stomach. Bishop didn't seem to mind the baby bump poking him, he simply tightened his arms, drawing her closer. "Thank you for taking care of us, Obi." Gracie whispered into his shirt.
Bishop stroked a large hand down her back in a soothing motion, his other went to the back of her head, cradling it gently. "You don't have to thank me for that, sweetheart."
"I want to." She insisted, trying to lift her head to look at him.
Bishop just pushed it back down. His fingers sinking into her curls, his other hand continued to stroke her back. He didn't want the moment to end. "I'm happy to have you here, Gracie. I'm glad you called me that night."
She inhaled deeply, breathing it out against his chest, "me too." Gracie tilted her head back enough to kiss the underside of his jaw. His beard scraped her skin in a way she'd come to love.
"I have to get to the club," Bishop groaned.
"Okay..." It came out as a sigh, Gracie tried not to look hurt. Shoving the emotion aside, she smiled at him, "will Letty be there today?"
"She comes in at 12:00, I think." He shrugged, "no school on Fridays or something. You wanna come hangout this evening? I think Letty's planning a BBQ."
"I'd love to! Is that... Okay? With you?" Gracie was suddenly unsure. She hadn't been to the club in a while. Bishop had made a point to come home as early as possible and they usually did movie nights on the couch or something. She wasn't sure if he even wanted her hanging out at the clubhouse anymore. Not that they had talked about it, or anything. She just figured that was why he always suggested staying in.
"Gracie, you're free to come and go as you please. If you want to come hang out at the clubhouse, you come and hang out. There's always someone there you can talk to. You're safe with any of my guys." Gracie nodded, opening her mouth to thank him, but he continued quickly. "All I ask, is that you be safe. Lock the door when you come and go, wear your seat belt, try not to inhale too much cigarette smoke." He cringed over the last one, knowing how hard that was at the club.
"Come on, you know Angel and Coco will chase anyone with a lit cigarette far, far away from me." Gracie laughed, thinking about how they had kicked Hank outside the one night she was there.
"That's a good point." Bishop squeezed her one more time before drawing away. "Text me before you leave later, and bring the pickup. I'm not bringing you home on the bike no matter how much you beg."
"But it's so fun!" Gracie whined, sticking her lip out.
"And totally not safe! You're too pregnant and I know you'll be too tired to hang on properly."
Gracie stuck her tongue out, "fun sucker!"
Bishop threw his head back and laughed, heading for the closet where he hung up his denim shirt and stored his boots. "Just trying to keep you both safe, querida."
"Yeah, yeah, I'll see you later. You be safe!"
"Always, sweetheart!" Once he was dressed and ready to go, he slipped out the door with a wave of his hand. "See ya tonight."
Gracie smiled at him, waving through the window as he pulled on his helmet and started his bike. Hurrying back to the kitchen, she finished the dishes faster than normal, eager to find the perfect outfit for tonight's BBQ. Laying the dress out, she texted Letty, C U Tonight, Bitch.
* * * *
"Hey, girl!"
"Hi, Letty! How are you?" Gracie grinned at her friend, walking into the clubhouse and around the bar to hug her.
"Oh wow!" Letty pulled back and looked down at Gracie's belly. "Every time I see you, you look rounder."
"Well that's how it works, Letty."
"Shut up, you shit." Her friend rolled her eyes, smiling despite her words. "How are things going with you and Bishop?"
"Pretty good."
"Just good?"
"He's great, really, so sweet and gentle."
"Okay, that doesn't sound like our president at all," Letty's eyes widened comically, "but that sounds great! So what's the problem?"
"There's no problem!"
"Come on, Grace, I saw that look. What's up?"
"Nothing! I'm so grateful to him for letting me stay and always making sure I'm comfortable and cared for."
"BUT?!"
"But... Sometimes he's too careful." Gracie whispered, embarrassment blooming through her and reddening her cheeks.
Letty looked surprised, "what do you mean? Give me an example." She whispered back, glancing toward the sliding door that contained their biker boys.
"He... I..." Gracie's cheeks turned an even brighter shade of red. "Sometimes when we kiss... He will just, like, shut it all down."
"Shuts... Wait. What?"
Gracie winced. "Things will just be getting started... And then he just stops. Says we should get some rest or something." Gracie eyes the door, afraid he would walk in and hear their conversation.
"Bitch, what!?"
"Yes!" Gracie hissed. "He just slows everything down again. Says we can just cuddle or watch a movie or he'll get up make me a snack or something."
Letty snorted, clapping a hand over her mouth as Gracie shot her a nasty look. "I'm sorry! It's just... That just doesn't sound like him at all. Wait, so you two haven't..."
"No! Not even close."
"Huh...."
"What?!"
"Nothing, I just didn't think the president of a motorcycle club would be such a prude."
"Letty!"
"What?! Sounds like he is! What's his deal?"
"I don't know, maybe he's not into the baby bump?" Gracie shrugged, chewing her lip as her mind started conjuring all the reasons why Bishop wouldn't touch her.
"No! Are you crazy? Can't you see the way he looks at you? He's completely-"
The screech of the metal door filled the air, cutting off Letty's speech. Both woman turned on their heels, eyes wide, mouths parted.
"Ladies," Coco greeted, eyeing them suspiciously. "What's up?"
"Nothing!" Gracie and Letty answered at the same time.
Angel's laugh boomed through the room, "that wasn't at all suspicious."
"Yeah, totally normal." Ez agreed, chuckling under his breath.
"What's all this?" Bishop asked, stepping through the door as the others laughed. Turning quickly, Gracie busied herself with opening the fridge and pulling out a round of beers for everyone. She felt his eyes on her back, the laughter dying down significantly. Letty cleared her throat, helping Gracie twist off the tops as she greeted him politely.
"Just girl talk, prez." She answered lightly, offering him a smile.
Coco snorted, walking away with a pack of cigarettes. Bishop parked himself on a stool, waiting patiently for Gracie to face him. When she did, she flashed him a quick smile, sitting a beer in front of him. Bishop grabbed her wrist before she could pull away, holding it gently, his eyes searched her face.
"What's up, querida?"
"Just girl talk, like Letty said."
"That it?"
"Yep! Everything is fine." Gracie smiled, and though it didn't reach her eyes, Bishop thought it looked real. Whatever was bothering her, she was trying hard to suppress it.
Opening his mouth to reply, a shout from across the room distracted him. "Bishop! Come on!" The guys were starting up an intense game of pool and it looked like there would be money involved. Sparing them a quick glance, he turned his attention back to her, but she was already pulling away.
"Go, play with the guys, we'll talk later." She smiled again, a soft, genuine smile. Something was still lurking there, in her big, beautiful eyes. He could see it and judging by the way Letty kept sneaking peeks at her, she could too. He didn't want to push her here though, in front of everybody.
"Okay, I'll talk to you in a bit?"
"Yeah, sounds good!"
Bishop left then, crossing the room as he replayed the past ten minutes in his mind. Where had he gone wrong? Did he do something before left this morning? Did someone say something to her?
"Bish!"
"Yeah, I'm coming!" He snapped, trying to push her from his thoughts.
Bishop did his best to focus on the game at hand, but his eyes kept finding their way back to her. All night. Despite the loud music and relentless shit talking from the guys, he couldn't stop checking on her. A quick glance here, a lasting look there, each time she was either facing away from him, or deliberately avoiding his eyes.
Frustration shot through him as the final ball sunk into it's pocket and she still hadn't met his eyes. Dropping his stick, he shrugged off the guys laughter and turned with all intention of marching right up to her and asking what was wrong. However, when he turned toward the bar, she was gone. Letty was wiping down the counter top, swaying to the beat of the music, but Gracie was no where to be seen. A moment of panic surged through him, his feet already carrying him toward Letty for answers.
"She's around the corner, I told her to get off her feet." Letty spoke before he ever had the chance to. Nodding in thanks, he bypassed the bar entirely, turning the corner to find her sprawled on one of the old couches. Her feet were indeed up, her back resting on the arm of the couch, head leaned over to rest on the cushion.
Lifting her feet, Bishop slid underneath them, placing them back down on his lap. Her ratty sneakers hung off his leg, her ankles resting on his thigh. He rubbed her calves gently, watching as she stirred from her nap. A soft sound fell from her mouth, one that stirred his insides and left him feeling needy.
"Obi?" Her sleepy voice pulled at him, filling him with the urge to scoop her up and carry her to bed. She rarely called him that, reserving the nickname for when she was overly emotional, or not quite thinking the clearest. Like now. She looked out of it, drunk off exhaustion. Heavy lids blinked slowly up at him, eyes struggling to focus.
"I'm here, querida." He stroked her leg softly, watching as she pushed herself into a sitting position.
"Are you ready to go home?" She rubbed her eye, tilting her head to the side in a way that pulled at his heart.
"Yeah, sweetheart, let's go home." Carefully putting her feet on the floor, he stood, turning to help her up.
Home.
To his house.
Gracie accepted his hand, allowing him to pull her to her feet, his arm looping her waist as she swayed sightly. Concern blossomed in his chest, she was acting weird tonight.
"You good, Gracie?"
"Mhmm." She hummed in response, leaning into him as she did. Whatever was holding her back before seemed to be gone from her mind now. The exhaustion chasing it away.
Sliding a hand up her back, Bishop threaded his fingers into her curls as he cupped the back of her head. Pulling her forward, he pressed a kiss to her forehead before stepping back and guiding her towards the door. Flipping off the guys' wolf-whistles, he waved goodbye to Letty as he tugged a sleepy Gracie out the door.
"Shit, sweetheart, help me out a little here." He mumbled under his breath, sliding an arm under her knees and one around her back to lift her down. She murmured something unintelligible back at him, head lolling on to his shoulder. Upon seeing that she wasn't going to stand when he tried to sit her down, Bishop scooped her back up, pushing the door shut with his hip. On the porch, he shifted her to punch in the code for his front door, shoving his way in and again bumping the door shut behind him. Inside, he carried her back the hall, laying her on the bed.
Outside, he helped her into his pickup, leaving his bike parked with the others. He left her drive separately tonight for this reason exactly. It wasn't safe to have her on the back of his bike when she was this tired, let alone being as far along in her pregnancy as she was. He'd rather have her tucked into his truck, safe from the weather and unpredictability of a motorcycle.
The drive to his house was quick, a couple turns later and they were parking in his driveway. She hadn't said a word on the way back, but judging from the way she was leaning so heavily on the door, Bishop figured it was because she had drifted off again. Opening the door and helping her out was a challenge, he had to crack the door open just enough to get his hand inside to catch her. Otherwise, he was sure she would have fallen right out.
Her dress had been twisted, pushed up her thighs from carrying her. Bishop fixed it carefully, making sure she was covered before gently twisting her sneakers off and dropping them to the floor. Next was her jacket, after unzipping it, he pushed it off her arms before sliding a hand behind her neck. Lifting her just enough to pull the jacket out from under her, Bishop left her rest back against the pillows again. She stirred then, turning her face toward him.
"Obi?"
"It's me, sweetheart." He whispered back, brushing a curl off her face.
"What time is it?" Her eyes didn't open, but her face remained looking in his direction.
"Late." Leaning forward he traced a slow line down her cheek with his thumb. "Get some rest, I'll see you in the morning, sweetheart." Bishop sat upright again, pushing off the bed as he stood up.
"Obi?" She sighed in her sleep, her little hand sliding across the bed in search of him.
Leaning forward, he took it, threading their fingers together. "Yeah?"
"Can you stay?"
"What?"
"Please..." Her eyes cracked open then, peering up at him blearily.
"Are you sure that's what you want, Gracie?"
"Please?" She seemed to whimper, her hand tightening on his. The sound hurt his heart, slicing through him, pulling him in.
"Okay." He whispered back, kicking off his boots and discarding his Kutte and denim shirt. Left in jeans and his sleeveless shirt, he crawled into bed beside her, pulling the blanket over them both.
She rolled on to her side facing away from him, exposing her bare back under the deep cut of her dress. Twisting her chin slightly, she breathed into the darkness, "can you hold me?"
Bishop froze. His heart hammered in his chest, his stomach flipped, arms already reaching for her before he could even fully process her question. One hand slipped under her shoulders, arm folding just below her breasts. The other hand slid across her stomach, finding the hip she was laying on, he drug her backwards. Back. Back. Back. Until she fit firmly against his chest. Her legs parted slightly, letting him slide one of his through them, tangling them together in a way they had not yet been intimate. Her head fit just right under his chin, curls tickling the column of his throat.
Holy Fuck.
This was a bad idea.
She nestled into him further, sighing softly, the puff of air ghosted over his arm. Goosebumps rose it it's wake. "Thank you..."
A very bad idea.
Bishop groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as she wiggled an inch closer. "You looked beautiful tonight, Gracie." He spoke softly into her hair. She hummed in response, borrowing further under the covers with another sigh. "We're going to talk in the morning, sweetheart. About whatever was bothering you at the clubhouse. You're not off the hook." Deep breathing was the only response he got, but Bishop didn't mind, he already made a mental note to bring it up over breakfast. Pressing his lips to her cheek, he murmured against her skin. "Goodnight, love."
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