#HES STARTIN A BAND

[myheadphonesareneverloudenough]

well they sure text like fathers.

[screampied]

IDK HOW TO START THIS REQUEST🔥🔥🔥

Suguru fucking reader while they’re wearing his hoodie 🙏

see what I’m getting at right…..( + I hope ur doing good Vegas 🗣️ )

❤︎ ໋𓈒 suguru fucking you in his oversized hoodie

warnings. fem! reader, cowgirl, praise, dirty talk, choking, unprotected, mdni.

“you’re a dirty girl, you know?” and his voice, it was so smooth— a risqué rasp hides behind it as both of his hands firmly attach towards your waist. you’re suppressing moan after moan as you’re rocking back and forth against him, feeling him reach such deep pits of your entrance. your walls continue to clamp around him, squeezing him tight and it makes a low groan depart from his sheeny lips. “i… i’m startin’ to see why you like wearin’ my hoodies, sweetheart. so you can ride me with them on, huhh.”

he’s so hefty, geto was far more thick than he was long and the quaver you felt in your thighs had you aching…

he stares at you with the slyest expression. even something as simple as his gaze was sexy, he studied your frame and ran his fingers against the soft cotton fabric you wore. one of his old hoodies, a dark cerulean blue with a random band name stitched near the very back. “. . s-suguru,” you’d huff out, leaning into his neck to gingerly nibble against his skin. “touch me more, feel my body a little more.”

“oh but baby, you know i don’t like being demanded,” he replies cheekily, guiding your hips in such a way. he grips your waist, swaying them further against his lap and you moan at the way his stretch from his cock wore you thin. “if you want me to touch you more, you know what to do,” and he lightly grabs your chin, making you gaze right into his darkened irises. “pretty please, suguru. let’s start from there, hm?”

a tease—a simple way to describe geto, he loved getting under your skin.

you made it so easy for him too, his eyes mindlessly roam all over your body and he groans. something about seeing you ride him with his old hoodie gets him hard, you feel his cock twitch inside you before you grind just a tad bit forward toward him.

“pretty please,” you huff out in shortened breaths, clinging to your final pants. a simple thing as breathing was even hard for you, you’re having a competition with your own each breath, it’s cute. all you wanted was to just feel a hand of his skim all down your body, running down your waist, your thighs . . . maybe even between your legs. “touch me, sugu. p—pretty please.”

“gotta be more specific, princess,” he whispers, his voice still deep—sonorous with such playfulness behind it. you could listen to his voice all day, you’re steadily rocking your hips against him before he watches you grab his hands. still, man spread, he snickers once you slowly move his hands further down your waist. “mhm. okay, anywhere else?”

you bite back a moan, feeling the plump crown head of his cock thrash against your sweet spots repeatedly. you’re swinging against him each time you go forward and it makes him grunt. your rhythm was simply hypnotic. time and time again, you’re so loud and you squeeze a grip on his wrists before babbling.

“touch my thighs, a-and touch here,” he remains quiet, amusingly ogling at how handsy you are. his fingers trail towards the material of the hoodie, sliding underneath it before you make him rub against your bare tummy. “right there, sugu.”

“such a naughty girl,” he hums.

brushing his thumb against your waist, another focus near the inside of the hoodie, his touch was so warm…

geto grunts, leaning back with his legs all spread. his sweats were pulled me just briefly, and you’re riding him so good that you spot his adam’s apple poking out. you lean in to kiss near his neck and he groans, feeling the thrusts against him only get sloppier. “fuck, that’s it, girl. s-shit, fuck me like that, yeah,” and his lips were so close up to your ear. you’re a whiney mess, feeling his strong hips attach to your rotating hips before your hand ends up wrapping around his neck.

it’s unintentional— but he finds it hot.

you make direct eye contact for a short concise moment before you moan from his dick french kissing near your pulsating g-spot. “k—kinky girl,” he chokes out, hooded eyes never leaving yours. and his eyes shoot up the moment you find out he’s turned on. your rocking on his lap quickens at a more rigorous pace before he speaks in a husky rasp, “nah, don’t let go now,” he fake pouts, spreading his legs just a bit further. your fingers loosen against his throat before he holds your wrist. “choke me more baby, c’mon don’t be shy. you know what you’re doing to me.”

“you’re kinkier than me, suguru,” you pant, feeling yourself coming close the more you bounce on his cock. his thighs— it rubs against your skin, it feels so smooth. a smooth clean service, skin slaps and slaps and you’re so dizzy that your head spins— your mind’s going through a whirl, and he chuckles before slowly sliding his hoodie up towards your chest.

he grunts, a thumb exposing your breasts that flung against you with each move you make. you’re frantic, wrapping one arm around him with another tightening its grip around his pretty throat. “obviously. we know this, girl,” he jeers, and there’s never a dull moment where suguru geto is sassy. and he even shoots you an eye roll, arched black brows slightly forming into a furrow.

the sassiest.

“ooh,” he purrs up all into your right into your ear, an arm dangerously snaking around your waist. “someone’s gettin’ whiney. you gonna make a mess on me, princess?”

“y— yeah,” you croon out a whimper, the curve of his cock plowing right through you. your walls continue to squeeze him tight, hugging him like a vice before you moan right into his neck. “s-shit, ‘m gonna cum, sugu.”

his head throws itself back and it’s sexy, long strands flowing effortlessly— and he smells good.

his aroma was something you could never get enough of, so rich and elegant. geto wore the same cologne and it never grew old. he breathes through his nose before bringing a sharp spank to your ass. “fuckkk me,” he’d gruffly utter. he was approaching too— he felt it rising and rising, that familiar twitch in his right leg rapidly . you moan, feeling his dick frantically pulse right inside your cunt and you release your grip on his neck. for a moment, he stares into your eyes before grabbing your chin. “kiss me, baby. give me . . a taste.”

his words were a bit slow, he was growing weary himself but didn’t wanna stop. not now—not ever.

you lean in to give him a sloppy kiss, tongues immediately collide and clash against each other. geto’s breath was warm, his hands continued to slide up the hoodie before squeezing your breasts, fondling a bit with your perky nipples as you’re just about to reach your incoming peak. “baby,” he huffs out in short pants between each kiss. with his abs clenching beneath his shirt, you anchor a hand right through his strands as you start to suck on his tongue. only for a second, he groans—gifting your ass that same spank that makes your skin roughly ricochet. “. . uh, fuck. make me cum, ride me jus’ like that,” and his voice was the same low gruff but it sounds a slightly more . . needy.

he tastes candied, syrupy…

a lingering minty flavor resides on his tongue as your saliva mixes with his—a husked grunt gets caught in his throat. once he feels his base merely have enough though, he cums.

all inside you, you end up following shortly afterward and your body ends up spasming all on him. geto’s so pretty when he finishes. hooded eyes a low, he’s gasping for air once you pull away. sheeny glossed lips that were a bit marked from your lips attached to him, he pursed them together before feeling himself trickle inside you. “s—suguruuu,” you’d mewl out, bringing your hips to a halt as his fiery tip spits out thick amounts of velvety cum. it’s so full that you feel full, he makes you quiet by pressing a thumb against your lips, holding you close to yourself.

“listen to it with me.”

all you could hear was your pants and the subtle sound of his heartbeat— as we as geto dumping his seed into your walls, your finish was just as immaculate and euphoric. it’s so carnal, a hand runs down his chest as you lean forward to sneak a kiss near his chin.

“. . damnnn,” he breathes, holding you close. his thigh twitch and after a few long minutes he ends up finishing the last few drops inside of you, a hand grabbing your waist. geto stares into your eyes, a lazy pussy drunken stare and he slyly speaks in a drowsy tone. “you’re such a pretty good girl,” and he corrects himself, taking his hoodie off of you to fully expose your gorgeous physique. “. . . messy, but pretty.”

and you slip off a moan once he drags a hand down between your legs, two fingers inserting inside of you after he pulls out—swirling the inside of your entrance of the mess that happily coats his fingers before he takes his digits back out.

“you should wear my shit more often, princess,” he coos, and you watch as he slowly slots his slender fingers into his mouth. no shame at all that he was tasting the aftermath. his tongue gyrates against it before he takes it out abruptly, a long glossy strand of spit departing as well before he drags your lip down with a thumb. “open for me ‘n say ah. if i gotta taste how nasty you were for me, then so do you, princess.”

[reds-writings]

souls further entwined

(pairing: rust cohle x fem!reader)

a/n: finally an update for these two! sorry to keep you waiting! I've got a lot of life changes in the works so updates might come a little slower over the next few months depending but i hope this tides y'all over for a bit! this takes place sometime after if only tonight we could sleep

word count: roughly 2.5k

warnings: (PLEASE LOOK BEFORE CONTINUING) discussions of abortion, child loss, forced/unsafe medical procedures, bad family situations, angst angst, cursing, semi-not-so-smut at the end, minors avert your gaze or else!!

The hidden gem of a restaurant that Rust had brought you to somewhere in the French Quarter was rather nice with its live jazz band playing in the corner and lavish decor. The tinkering of silverware layered on top of the low rumblings of fellow diners did what it could to fill the void of silence that had long settled between you and the man sitting adjacent. He had spontaneously asked you– well more like told you to go out with him tonight. Something about wanting to do things right once and for all after all this tiptoeing around.  The whole notion had taken you off guard, admittedly.

You’d been buzzing so bright leading up to tonight that you could've probably put a lightning bug to shame. He’d asked you on a real date. A step forward from the semi-clandestine meetings you’d both been settling on for far too long now. It was unlike him to outwardly admit to much but you doubted it was a wide occurrence that he’d take a girl on a date just because he was bored. This had meaning.

With that thought swirling in mind, you’d found your best dress and took what constituted as way too long of a pampering shower to best prepare for a promising night out with the man you'd become so deeply enamored with. It wasn’t often you got to get all prettied up for some fun given that work always managed to swallow you whole. 

God you’d been so excited. 

From the time you’d gotten into Rust’s Ford up until you’d sat down to eat he had yet to utter a single word to you. Hell, he’d hardly even managed to look at you either and it was starting to cause a distasteful rock that went by the name of dread to sink lower and lower in your gut. 

Dexterous fingers stayed picking at the table cloth as a form of lengthy distraction and you fought the bubbling urge to snatch his hand and demand what gives. It wasn’t hard to miss the anxiety bleeding from his form with those tense shoulders and that telltale faraway look in his eyes. You didn’t want to continue the cycle of jumping to conclusions when it came to the routine lack of forthcoming involving his more vulnerable thoughts out of insecurity so you bit the bullet,

“Y’know…usually on a date there’s a bit more talkin;. Maybe startin’ with questions like ‘what’s your favorite color’-- it’s blue by the way, or ‘where’d you get that lovely dress’. Could also do with lookin’ a little less green in the gills.”

That got him to stop fidgeting but a response was not yet prompted. You sighed and looked down at the vibrant cloth napkin in your lap,

“If you’re startin’ to regret this we can just forget about it and head back-”

“I don’t know if I can be what you need.” He all but blurted and it had your head shooting back up in suprise.

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t…I don’t find myself being suited for marriage like before. I can’t give you kids because I don’t think it’s right-”

“Wait a minute just-...slow your roll for a second.” Your mind was going a mile a minute at his frank outburst and you were having trouble pinpointing just where it all came from. 

“First of all, I don’t necessarily need the promise of marriage to feel fulfilled. I’m about to hit 30 soon enough and I’ve supplied plenty for myself that I'm not sure some flimsy marriage papers can add on to. I’m not just sayin’ all this to make you feel better either so don’t go down that route.” You were tenderly stern in your delivery to make sure what you were saying was actually sticking without sounding offended.

All he could give was a slight nod as the tip of his thumb came to his mouth: a nervous tic.

“Secondly…” You cleared your throat slightly and gave yourself a moment of pause. The latter concern wasn’t that of an easy subject. For either of you. Besides your family and probably Marty, not many knew of your reality when it came to the idea of starting a family. 

“I can’t have children. So that wouldn’t even be on the table to begin with I suppose.” 

That seemed to stun Rust. His expression working out how, what, and when this came to be. You cleared your throat again. Talking about it was never easy no matter how much time passed.

“The gist of it is…well I got knocked up when I was sixteen. Total accident, shocker. And um…my pa didn't approve. Not one bit, bein’ the respectable county figure he was as a seasoned lawyer n' all.” 

Your sinuses began to sting but you willed away any threat of tears as you tried to explain. Rust didn't say a word, his expression hardening minutely with a knowing sense of where this was headed.

“I didn’t wanna listen. I was scared of course but the boy I was foolin’ around with at the time was nice and had a family who wanted to be involved so that was enough for me. My uppity family could shove it for all I cared,” You scoffed wryly but continued, “But pa was adamant. He couldn’t have some little whore of daughter muckin’ things up but we were a church family so abortion was obviously out of the question. At least one would think that was the case,” 

“Long story short he dragged me to some back alley clinic where things would be kept under wraps. They fuckin’ botched it of course and made me sterile. Didn’t really know how bad it was until another loss and a visit with the doctor after trying with a serious boyfriend some time ago…” You shrugged as you fiddled with your unused silverware. You hadn’t spoken with your family since then. Letting you be mutilated for the sake of preserving a frivolous public image was a hard thing to let go of.

You remember how sick you were afterward. Infection from the procedure and a decent amount of blood loss, go figure. You only recall the house's maids nursing you back.

Your pa had never been able to look you in the eye again. Your mama just pretended nothing had ever happened the way it did.

Sometimes your mind had the habit of taking a dark turn every now and then, wondering if they would’ve felt any remorse if their forced course of action ended up actually killing you. With a selfishness like they had you couldn't help but doubt it. 

They had always taken more pride in your sister anyway. 

“So yeah…you don’t have to worry about the possibility of kids when it comes to me. It’s not like with our line of work it’d be much of a good idea anyway. Marty’s a prime example I'd reckon.” Your laugh was brittle in a weak attempt to lift the heavy weight you felt like you’d set over the mood. 

Rust’s large hand reached over to encase your shaking one to garner your attention. Looking up you weren’t met with pity or disgust, but with recognition. One shared in the experience of grief. Of having something meant to be so precious ripped from you in the cruelest of ways. He didn’t feel sorry for you. He understood you. More than anyone else had or could. 

“You’re enough for me, Rust. I don’t know if you’ve noticed by now but there’s not much you can do to send me runnin’ for the hills. I like you as you are and I don’t need more. I wouldn’t expect you to change your mind over somethin’ like that anyway. It just wouldn’t be fair to ask.” His eyes glazed over at your words and he had to let go of the troubled breath he’d been holding. He brought your hand to his lips and kept them there as an unspoken thank you. 

After a moment or two he set your hand back on the tabletop, still grasped in his. 

“How about we find some shitty dive and let loose over there. This place is startin’ to feel a lil’ too stuffy for me.” Your light-hearted jab made the corner of his lips quirk up before he nodded,

“Yes, ma'am.” 

—

After a relaxing drive accompanied by the tunes of Willie Nelson in search of a dive bar that was sufficient enough, the ice from all the worries of earlier had melted as fast as they had formed. The establishment you ended up coming across was a more than welcome change of pace compared to that of the restaurant (as lovely as it was). It wasn’t big by any means but there was room to dance and plenty of open spots to sit around and drink. 

You looped your arm through his and leaned into his side as you made your way to settle down. There wasn’t enough time or clarity earlier to truly appreciate just how good he looked for the occasion but now you had all the time in the world to shamelessly ogle.

He’d donned a black dress shirt, forgoing a tie and leaving a few buttons undone in a way that had you feeling dizzy, as well as a nice fitting pair of jeans that had plenty of passersby’s eyes glued to his shapely form.

“The ladies of Louisiana might just beat me up for a chance with you. If your face ain’t motivation enough your ass surely will be.” You nudged him and he shook his head mirthfully. 

“One would say jealousy is unbecoming.”

“Who said anythin’ about jealousy? I’ve earned my stake in claimin’ you as eye candy fair and square. They can try all they want but they were just too slow to the draw.”

“With your pension for being scrappy, I’d say they wouldn’t have much of a chance to begin with.” 

“Gee, is that the only reason they don’t stand a chance?” You quirked a brow. You knew the answer but pestering him to fess up hardly ever got you far. 

“What d’ya wanna drink, Miss Envy.” He drawled, not one to fall into your traps so easily and you flicked him with narrowed eyes.

“Last time I checked my name don’t even come close to rhymin’ with envy so you can quit with that.” 

The shithead just smirked.

“I’ll take a jack and coke. Now run along.” You waved him away and he just shook his head. In his short absence you’d found a high top and decided to claim as your territory for the night. The music was clearer over this way and your heart jumped at the beginning notes of Fleetwood Mac’s Beautiful Child.

Upon his return, Rust had hardly been able to set the drinks down before you were grabbing at him to park yourselves out on the dancefloor. A few other couples were swaying in place so you figured it wouldn’t be all that awkward to steal a moment for yourselves.

It was strange, being able to be so open in your affections without the curious eyes of Marty or anyone else from the precinct to make judgments. You could just be yourselves. It was a breath of fresh air after all this time.

As the song gained momentum, you wrapped your arms around his neck, toying with the hairs at his nape while his strong ones made home around your waist to pull you in closer. A small spark of pride lit up your chest at him being able to be this comfortable with you.

As you rested your head along the expanse of his chest you felt the feather-light stamp of his kiss at your crown. The tenderness of the simple act almost had you turning into one hell of a mush puddle. You settled on burrowing deeper if that were any more possible as Stevie sang on. Fighting the effect he had on you was always going to be a losing battle. 

You wouldn’t trade this moment for a damned thing. 

—

It was nearing almost three in the morning by the time you arrived back home. Your mind had been pleasantly warmed by the drinks and all the dancing. Rust even seemed to have a newfound glow to him and it was triggering something innately carnal in you. 

Taking an opportunity from the pocket of silence, you scooted along the Ford’s bench seat to make a place for yourself along his lap. 

The relaxed daze displayed across his features was something you’d never had the pleasure of seeing before. It was nothing like the faraway trance he’d trap himself in with all the pills and whatnot in fruitless efforts of chasing undisturbed sleep. No, this was true content. 

“I had a good time.” You didn’t mean to sound so coy but it couldn’t be helped as your hands crept up to frame his fine face.

“That’s good. I’m glad.” He hummed as he took in every feature your beautiful face had to offer. It was like striking gold. Especially in this expansive wasteland of a state.

“When we get a chance we should do it again. S’nice to go out…feel normal…” Hair lying in his line of light distracted you as you moved it out of the way with a gentle sweep. The truck’s cab could probably burst with the steadily increasing tension so you did what any normal woman would do with such a man in front of them and kissed him with all you had. 

It started out syrupy and languid as if you had all the time in the world to be out macking in the car like a pair of careless teenagers. Your skin hummed like a live wire at his sudden grasp on the plush fat of your hips which served as the green light to go further. 

Your delicate fingers carded through his soft waves as the muscle of his tongue took dominance over the kiss. A meek whimper cracked within your throat as you tried to keep up with what little oxygen you had remaining. When Rust kissed, it was all-consuming. It was no act he took passively when it came to you which had been made crystal clear to you by now. With each pass of his wet-hot caress, you could feel everything he wanted to say to you without complication of expression through words. 

His mouth traveled across the apple of your cheek down the expanse of your neck, nipping and sucking with such lax reverence it had you arching as if you could fuse your ribs with his. Souls to be permanently intertwined.

With a starting grind of your hips that your body had no willpower to control you could feel him hardening with each intensifying roll. His choked moan had you remembering where you were and you’d be damned if your first actual night with him was in this old, damned truck right outside your house. 

“D’ya wanna take this inside?” You offered in a breathless huff, trying to catch your breath in vain. You’re sure that even in the dark of the truck’s cabin the heat of your face could set the whole space aglow. He nipped at your bottom lip and soothed it with another peck,

“I would.”

The sudden tangle of limbs clambering to make haste towards the beacon of your front door would’ve been downright hysterical had you any hubris. 

a/n: sorry to blue ball you lmao. I HOPE THIS WASN'T CRINGE AHHHHH. i'll probably come back and edit this later. feedback is always appreciated!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Second Best 7

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Lee Bodecker

Summary: The newly-single sheriff sets his eye on an unexpected match.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You hurt. Bad. Your insides are on fire and your soul is raw. You lean into the car door as each bump along the back roads jostles you and makes you whimper. You watch out the window without seeing. 

There’s a sudden radiating agony in you as something slaps against your knee. You squeak and look at the sheriff’s hand as he squeezes and purrs. You hug yourself tighter as he rubs the cap and creeps further up your thigh. 

“Dang, girl, I’m startin’ to go again,” he snickers as he kneads you through the denim, I could have your ass around me all over again.” 

His snarl makes you shudder. You’re sickened by him. His voice, his touch, his very being. And you’re disgusted with yourself. With what he did to you. You're scalded by the burning deep inside of you. 

“So, vanilla?” He draws his hand away reluctantly and rests it on the shifter, his other thumb lazily hooked around the bottom of the wheel. “Though now you might want something more adventurous... how about some double fudge or... rocky road?” 

His laughter makes you shrink. You lower your eyes at the glaze of hot tears and mop them with the back of your hand. What’s done is done but it doesn’t make it any better now it’s over. You can feel him. You don’t think you’ll ever forget it. 

“Aw, don’t get quiet on me, kitten,” he taunts, “we had some good fun. Don’t ya worry, I’m not embarrassed. Ya can tell Greta all about me. Maybe y’all can share notes.” 

He laughs again and you hide behind your hands, “please...” 

“You don’t gotta be so sensitive. It’s what ya do. Coulda had your pussy if I wanted,” he clicks his tongue, “I was nice just tearing up your rear.” 

“I don’t... I don’t want any ice cream. I want to go home,” you gulp down a sob. 

“Now, now, I ain’t gonna be some deadbeat like that. I owe you a proper date, don’t I? ‘Less you that type of gal.” 

“I didn’t....” want that. 

You can’t finish. You know he doesn’t care. That this isn’t some valiant gesture. A date? No, he’s torturing you. Still. 

He pulls up outside the grocery store and you sink down, overly aware of all the people on the street. There’s no way they don’t see you with the sheriff. He won’t let them miss it. 

“Go on, grab us a table,” he winks, “I’ll go in an get us a scoop. Still set on vanilla?” 

You look at him sharply and press a shaky hand to your chest, “don’t make me do this, sheriff.” 

“Make you do what, now? I’m being awfully fucking nice,” he reaches to grab you by the chin, “I treated ya to something thick, now let me get ya something sweet.” 

He’s so gross. You knew that already but each word is twisted like a knife in your already shredded insides. You lower your lashes, “sorry, sir.” 

He hums and pushes his thumb up to your lower lip, playing with it, “now that’s a good girl. Sir...” He wiggles in his seat, “you’re gettin’ me riled again.” He trails his hand down your neck and pushes your hand away from your chest. He cups your tits and squeezes, pushing you back with the force of his grope. He growls and rips his hand away, “goddamn, you go get a table.” 

He unbuckles his seat belt and leans back as he undoes his fly. He reaches down the front of his pants and grabs himself, tucking his tip up under the band of his brief. He does up and lets out a smoky exhale. 

“Maybe on the way back, huh.” He opens his door and pauses to glance over at you, “you hold up over there.” He gets out and hurries around the hood. He comes around to open your door and waves his arm extravagantly as he urges you out, “ya know I’m the old-fashioned type. A real gentleman.��� 

You don’t look up. You get out and murmur a thanks, knowing better than to forget that small courtesy. You know someone you know will see because everyone knows everyone. You turn your head as you shuffle past him. 

“I’ll grab the table by the wall,” you utter.” 

“I’ll find ya, kitten,” he purrs. 

You walk away from him and cross to the table in the shade. You’re hoping being far enough away from the street might at least be subtle. You sit on the bench and stifle a yelp. Oh god. You fold your arms on the table and hang your head, taking deep breaths as you try to sooth the pain. 

What happened? What did he do? You’re not some silly girl, you aren’t saving yourself for some prince charming but that was not what you ever imagined. That was... 

You inhale and raise your head, putting your hands to the side of your neck. You stare off into the leaves across the lot and they blur into orbs; shades of green rustling in the sunlight. You could get up and go but that won’t help you. That’s what got you into this whole mess. 

You wince as the sheriff blocks the view of the trees. He sits across from you and offers you a cone. You take it, turning it in your hand as you examine the already dripping scoop. 

“Cherry cheesecake,” he winks. 

You don’t know if it’s another joke. Cherry. Popping your cherry. Ugh. It’s so nasty the way they talk about it. 

“Oh, thank you.” 

“They were all outta vanilla,” he shrugs, “got me some chocolate swirl.” 

You nod and adjust the napkin to catch the melting cream. He eagerly licks his own, watching you as he does, spreading his tongue wide as his cheek dimples. You’re repulsed by the vision of him hungrily lapping up the ice cream. 

“Go on,” he encourages you, “you got a pretty mouth, don’t ya?” 

You sniff and look at the scoop. You slowly bring it closer and flick your tongue across the sweet melty treat. He growls as he watches you and slurp up some of the mess trickling down his fingers. 

“Mm, I like to watch ya work,” he chortles, “make sure ya don’t tire yourself out,” he slips his hand under the table, his arm moving slightly, back and forth as he rubs himself. “We got a long ride home, ain’t we?” 

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Polyphony

Chapter Twenty-Six

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Other characters: Lee, Kevin, Charlie, Benny, Jesse, Sam/Madison, Annie/Bobbie, Crowley, Patience, Donna, Jody, Cesar, Nancy and going forward I'm just gonna list the bands as a whole unit and then the tertiary characters there's so many people all of the sudden!

Word Count: 3443

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, jealousy, Dean/Bela blow job, he's trying his best okay?, after party shenanigans, mild drug use

A/N: I am so sorry this update has taken me so long. It's been a weird couple of months. And with that I quickly duck away from all the tomatoes you will want to virtually throw at me over this chapter. xoxo Stu

Series Masterlist

Dean stepped off the side of the stage into the pit like a madman. He’d just played an entire show and finished with three encores. He didn’t want to be caught, it wasn’t an attempt at crowd surfing. It was submitting to the tide, merging with his audience.

They loved it, he was immediately met with open arms and cheers and more than one pinch on the ass.

The fog of smoke from the stage mixed with the stink of alcohol, decent weed and drying sweat then hovered over the entire crowd as Dean laughed and joked and hugged his way toward the barricade. Lee was still shouting his thank yous and Kevin was continuing to jam on the keys as the lights came back up.

Charlie cut all audio and the sudden lack of background noise was deafening. Everyone’s focus zeroed in on Dean among the chaos.

“Alright, c’mon brother,” Benny’s voice wrangled Dean out of the throes of fans more than anything. “Time to go home, folks! Let the man through!”

Dean waved and threw kisses backwards to the fans. Damn, his cheeks ached with the length of his grin, but he just couldn’t stop it. And apparently it was contagious, from Benny to Jesse, and all the way back to the dressing room, everyone who met his eye beamed back at him, followed by a cacophony of praise and congratulations that came by too fast to appreciate.

“There he is!” Lee shouted over all the laughing and cheering. The band and SPS had apparently started the after party the moment the show ended. Lee grabbed Dean around the neck, kissed his temple, and bowed him over for a noogie in the blink of an eye. Dean could have punched him in the dick, but took the high road and elbowed him in the gut instead. “Sonuvabitch—- let’s get you a drink.”

Lee dragged Dean towards the wall of booze they requested by the neck.

Someone smacked Dean’s hip as he waddled past, probably Donna, but it was too rowdy to be sure.

“Uh-oh!” Lee teased and then finally let Dean go. 

He popped up just in time for Bela to swoop in and kiss his speaking mouth. “Heh!” And okay, he closed his eyes a little late, but he was not expecting that. Lee whistled in his ear, but Dean had finally caught up with her and didn’t want to be ungrateful, so he deepened the kiss, got a hold of her hips and made it dirty, for the audience.

“Okay! Okay! Christ,” you swore. “Shots? I’m ready. Who else?”

Dean pulled back from Bela’s lips, suddenly self-conscious. She smirked, but Dean couldn’t quite match her mischief.

“Trouble’s startin’!” Pam hollered and Kevin practically shrieked as he rushed over to join you.

“You want in?” Dean asked Bela out of the side of his mouth.

“Definitely,” she agreed. They shuffled over and lined up for Cesar to drop another two disposable shot glasses onto the row before overfilling them all straight down the line.

“Salud!” He bid them imbibe.

“SALUD!” They shouted back in a choppy chorus.

The tequila without lime rolled down his throat more than stung, but Dean liked the way it felt on his tongue, an entirely different mouthfeel than his usual whiskey.

“Gah!”

Cesar eyed Dean knowingly, dark eyes bright and proud. “More?”

Dean nodded and looked around, seeing Patience sitting on the minifridge. “Hey Psychic chic, lay one on me?!”

She rolled her eyes but hopped down and got Dean a beer chaser as Cesar poured another row. “You’re a goddamn saint, thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Nice job out there,” Patience almost looked impressed.

Dean cranked the cap off his bottle and held it up. “Just gettin’ started.”

“That we are,” she agreed and then leaned over and reached behind Dean, waving and then holding out her hand. “Hey! Sorry, we haven’t met. I’m Patience— I’m the bass player for the opener.”

“Bela! I’m with him,” Bela replied, diligently shaking Patience’s hand. Dean couldn’t see it, but he felt it as Bela braced against his back to reach.

“You poor thing!” Patience teased.

“I’m right here you know!” Dean griped playfully and took his and Bela’s shot in the meantime, winking at Cesar.

“Eh, it’s not all bad,” Bela heavily implied something.

“I’ll have to take your word for it.” Patience said in a way like she’d be following up.

Dean groaned and took a long pull off his beer before finally turning around and joining the conversation about him. Bela practically draped herself against him, her spangly bracelets rattled down her forearm as she got comfortable.

“What is that bad?” Dean stage whispered to Bela.

“I’ll tell you later, dear,” Bela said diplomatically, patting his chest.

Patience chuckled. “How long?”

Dean looked at Bela before he could fuck that one up. “Couple of months.”

“Six.”

“Six?!” Dean balked.

“Yes, six months since we met for brunch at that place with the frittatas.”

“It’s March— that was November,” Dean countered.

“It’s still new, though,” Patience suggested, clearly amused.

“Basically,” Dean agreed.

“Not too new,” Bela tacked on.

Dean sipped his beer and looked around the room as Bela asked Patience about her band, things Dean heard but already knew. Lee and Kevin were geeking about something or another as they talked to Donna whose smirk told Dean that she was baiting them for something. Sam was spread back on the couch with Madison draped against his side while Annie sat across from them sealing a joint. Bobby and Victor were talking shop with the Sera chick from the venue just outside the door, making peace or demands, Dean couldn’t be sure.

He wondered if Charlie was still making notes for the show tomorrow or if she was here somewhere he hadn’t clocked.

“Alright folks, time to go make nice with the civilians. SPS let’s get you ladies first— Sam, grab your brother.” Bobby bellowed through the dressing room before heading out to the meet and greet area. Lots of bands did this stuff before the show, but Dean always preferred it after. Plus enough booze tended to put everyone, fan or band member, at ease.

Dean gave Patience a knowing look, rolled his eyes, and then pulled his arm off of Bela’s shoulders. “Duty calls.”

Seeing fans face-to-face was a mixed bag. Dean was never immune to the ego boost, it meant a lot that someone enjoyed something he helped make and that they were able to give them a good show in return. But there were the absolute nutbags too. And then everyone else in the middle who were either way too excited and forgot he was essentially a stranger or that he was a person at all, or trying so hard to be cool and aloof that he left feeling bad for them.

Generally it was fun, if exhausting. But after he had crashed and burned, he had this nagging urge to hang back and let the rest of the band do the heavy lifting for once. The guilt of entertaining that thought weighed on him as he followed Sam, Pam and Bobby while being flanked by Kevin and Lee. Dean Winchester didn’t pass the buck, he picked up the slack and so he walked into the repurposed rehearsal room with a big grin and his arms wide above his head.

“How’s it going everybody?!”

Screams and cheers hit them in a solid wave of sound. Carefully, you escorted them to the signing tables while everyone was still corralled behind the snap-bracelet dividers while Bobby watched the exit and the crowd. The venue’s security managed the line, ensuring everyone generally kept their clothes on and hands to themselves for this part.

SPS took up the first two tables, forcing PT’s diehards to play nice and give the openers some love. Though Dean was pleasantly surprised to see some folks decked out in their gear too, especially as a transplant band it made him proud of his friends. He cracked open the water bottle that was set in front of his assigned seat and chugged half of it. Suddenly hoping he didn’t smell too rank, from breath or sweat, he hadn’t stopped long enough to remember to grab some gum or more deodorant. He did a sniff check and felt a warm palm on his shoulder.

“Sure or unsure?” You teased, leaning in to hear him over the hustle and bustle of approaching fans.

“Passable. Got any gum?”

You rolled your eyes and stood back up to spin your compact cross-body bag around to dig through for him.

“Thanks,” Dean said while popping the piece into his mouth.

“‘’Course— anybody else?” You held out your pack and it got passed down the line from Lee to Sam, Pam was already covered, but Kevin took two, unabashedly pocketing the spare for later.

Then it was go-time and autographs passed in a blur.

The venue staff broke down the tables and slowly the people who hung around were able to mingle with the bands. Dean felt the urgency of a few groups pressing in on him, but he just grabbed his nearest bandmate, Kevin, and made the circle of conversation bigger. 

“So you’re the new Cas— how’s that going?” A woman who was old enough to know better asked behind hipster glasses.

“Weren’t you out there?!” Dean pushed back. “Dude killed tonight.”

“Ah, thanks, Dean.” Kevin said like the asshole he is. “And to think the last eight months felt like a fever dream.”

“Yeah, yeah, pipsqueak, we’re keeping you around.”

The small crowd around them laughed nervously, not yet getting Kevin’s humor.

Dean posed for selfies and gave out hugs and even had a thumb war with someone’s eight-year-old (who should not have been hanging out so late, but he wasn’t their parent). By the time the rest of the band had slipped away to the official afterparty, which included more of their friends and family and the rest of VIP, Dean was beat. 

So he headed back to the dressing room for a quick pitstop, Benny at his side now that the stage was secured for tomorrow night’s show.

Waiting for him, sprawled out on the couch like the epitome of seduction, was Bela, slowly smoking a joint through an antique cigarette holder. Who the fuck even had one of those? But damn, it stopped him well and good.

“Hey.”

“Hi there, is it time for the next round?” She slowly pulled herself up and slinked into his space. Behind him, he heard the door close. Fucking Benny.

“Yeah, I was just coming in here to— uh, freshen up a bit.”

Bela took another hit. “I see. Well, I won’t keep you from all that, but I might tempt you to stick around a bit before bumping more elbows.”

Dean eyed the couch she had crawled off of and the whole expanse of their suddenly empty dressing room. “Uh, yeah, I could use something to take the edge off.”

There was an actual shower stall nestled in the back of the ensuite bathroom of the dressing room. Dean was not brave enough to tackle that series of possibilities at the moment. But he ddid a quick scrub down of his junk and pits at the sinks, because nobody deserved a whiff of stale ball sack even if they only did this half clothed and dirty. He was a gentleman, okay?

He made sure to pull a condom out of his wallet and moved it to his front pocket instead. With one final glance in the mirror, Dean stepped back out into the dressing room proper, to see Bela now sipping something clear and fizzy out of one of the small plastic cups the venue sold cocktails in, legs crossed and eyes wicked.

“Hey.”

This thing with Bela had been growing tedious the longer it went on, but with the tour and all the publicity it wasn’t like either of them could get their rocks off with randos anymore. Dean liked Bela, in a get under-your-skin way with a perpetual need to one up one another flare that felt very high school yet with more varying levels of stakes attached. 

But she was gorgeous and more than interested. So he indulged again.

Dean sank down onto the couch beside her and finished the roach she had left in the tip of her cigarette holder, propped up on an ugly brown glass ashtray that was potentially older than both of them.

Who knew where half the shit in the dressing room came from.

Once he was good and relaxed, Bela set down her drink.

“You know New Kids on the Block was my first concert. I got to meet them and pose for pictures before they took the stage at Whitley Bay. Nobody knew who I was, we had just finished filming the first season of Red Sky at Dawn, but they still made me feel like a princess.”

Dean didn’t quite know what to say. “Well I hope we rocked a little harder than a boy band.”

Bela nodded and considered. “I was wondering if you’d mind making me feel a little more grown up—- a little more wild.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “You got some sort of fantasy I need to know about here?”

Bela huffed a laugh, more to herself, she wasn’t quite looking at him.

“All this, backstage at a rock concert— sex, drugs and rock'n'roll. I guess I always wanted to be the teenage bad girl. But I was never allowed, my “reputation” always came first.”

“Okay, well, I’m not exactly into PYTs anymore, so if you want to play pretend, let's keep our own ages— I’m game, just tell me what you wanna do.”

Bela kissed him in response and creeped onto his lap.

Dean’s hands found her hips and dragged her closer, while his tongue turned the kiss sloppy. She hummed into his mouth and rubbed the warmth between her legs against his hardening dick. They really didn’t have time for a whole scenario here, but he wanted to make her happy.

“You like it a little dirty? Fucking groupie just need to get a piece of me to brag about to all your friends? Huh?”

Her voice came out accentless and needy, always a performer and goddamn pro too. “Please, Dean, I just want to touch it. To feel you.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you can do more than that. How about you get on your knees and show me how much you want it?”

“I can do that— I love doing that,” Bela emphasized the last word, like it was too dirty to call by its name. 

“Yeah?” Dean leaned back and unbuttoned his jeans. “Show me.”

Bela eagerly dug him out of his boxers and fly, stroking him to his full glory. Her eyes sparkled conspiratorially. Dean tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before she took him deep inside her mouth.

Fucking hell was she warm and sucked him like she was pulling a golf ball through a garden hose.

“That’s it, take me deep. Show me how much you want me to come down that tight little throat of yours,” Dean growled, nearly spitting the words out until he closed his eyes. 

         He was transported back into his shower at home, the thoughts of you on your knees, of you teasing him, and running your bottom lip over the ridge of his tip. You lapping up the bead of precum you coaxed out of his slit. Dean wanted it to be you more than he should. But more than that, he wanted you anyway he could have you. And the thought of all the ways he would make you scream was what sent him over.

“FUCK!” Dean shouted, biting his bottom lip and holding Bela’s head in place as his dick finished twitching through his orgasm.

Bela purred and licked him clean. 

“You’re a fucking menace, I’ll have you know.” Dean said exasperated. And then pulled her face to his for a final kiss. “UGH! I have to go to at least another two parties now.”

Bela chuckled. “You can do it. You’re the lead singer of Phantom Traveler! You can’t be made useless from a single blow job.”

“Yeah, well, it was a killer bj.”

Bela rolled her eyes. “Stop bragging and help me fix my hair.”

Dean did as he was told.

Crowley was waiting at the after party. Which, fucking figured, but Dean and Bela showed up fashionably late had the snarky asshole smugger than a grandma who just gave her grandson his fifth cookie before sending him home for nap time.

Dean looked around the club, keeping quick tabs on the rest of the band and SPS. Jody and Donna were talking to Pam in the corner and he wouldn’t be surprised if somebody swapped hotel rooms that night. Those women knew how to have fun.

Patience and Kevin were talking to some more dressed up fans that might actually be family of someone or another at the label. Dean couldn’t remember what Crowley’s son looked like the last time he saw him, besides having an early Beatles ‘do.

Nancy and Sam were talking animatedly about something nerdy, Dean was certain. It even looked like Sam had found himself a triple red eye somewhere tonight, because there was no way that moose was that awake this late naturally.

Lee was sweet talking a group of ladies along the half wall near the bar, as Cesar watched from the corner amused. All of their people were there it seemed, he just hadn't spotted Charlie yet until he got a solid knuckle to the bicep.

“Took you long enough!” 

“A wizard is never late, he arrives precisely when he means to,” Dean quoted in his best Ian McKellan voice.

“Dude! Stop, you can’t do a good Gandalf and you know it!” Charlie begged. “So? Good night so far?”

She eyed Bela knowingly. “See anybody on my team? Besides the openers? I’m not touching that kind of drama again. Though Pam looks like she may be—?”

Dean chuckled. “Pam does what Pam wants— too late to stop her now. But, uh, I’ll keep my eyes peeled.”

Charlie held up her fist and Dean met it with a solid bump. “See you ‘round, Red.”

Bela waved at her as she left, comfortable at Dean’s side and smug as ever.

Dean made his way to the hor'dourves table and Bela went to find them fresh drinks. As far as afterparties went, it was a little more high brow than they usually were, but it wasn’t bad. 

Dean just wasn’t feeling it.

Or maybe it was the way Victor was leaning in to hear you better as you discussed something or another with him and Bobby and Annie across the bar. They ate and they drank and they got rowdier once everyone made it to the hotel. Lee had two girls heading up to his room, but he and Pam were arguing over who got to use their room for the night and who was picking up their luggage to make getting ready in the morning easier.

Sam and Madison kept stopping every five feet to kiss or grope one another. While Charlie and some curly haired girl with cat ears sticking out of her head were almost as gross.

SPS were riding into the hotel on the roadies’ backs, little Nancy on Jesse and Donna on Benny like they were jockeys or cowgirls. Kevin and Patience were carrying their bags and shoes, apparently, behind them, amused and begrudgingly helpful. Dean, Bela, you and Cesar all rode up on an elevator together, leaving behind most of the mayhem for a blissful stretch of two minutes of quiet.

You actually may have fallen asleep standing up.

Dean nudged you and you quickly snapped out of it, fumbling for your room key and dragging Bela with you.

“Uh, Y/N? I’m going to Dean’s— I’ll just get my stuff in the morning.”

“What? Oh! Yeah, of course.” You yawned so hard, Dean had to take a deep one himself. It didn’t lessen the heat that crept up his neck as you watched Bela walk the opposite way down the hall from your room. “See you guys— see you guys at breakfast.”

Dean wanted to say something, to be reassuring, you looked so sullen all of the sudden. His mouth wouldn’t work and his feet didn’t either until Bela tugged on his elbow and marched towards his penthouse suite.

He really wanted to shoot her in that moment.

Tagging:

@deans-spinster-witch

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

@ladysparkles78

@deans-baby-momma

@stoneyggirl2

@sassy-pelican

@leigh70

@globetrotter28

@winharry

@lastactiontricia

@rockhoochie

@brightlilith

@coldhearted93

@djs8891

@beautiful-places-blog

@n-o-p-e-never

Chapter 27: Molto

[dbnightingale24]

You Didn't Have To Say Yes...

A Pete Brenner Love Story

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My first Patreon story!! I decided that Pete needs a love story, cause I feel like he gets shit on a lot. He's not a bad guy, he just has some...bad habits.

Thank you to everyone for your patience (once again), and I hope you all enjoy! As always, thank you to @fuckingbye for my amazing moldboard! I love it and I love you! I wrote this in a week (I don't know what's going on with my brain as of late), and I'm really excited for it!

Word Count: 49,380

Warnings: Pete Brenner, Smut, MINORS DNI 18+, Swearing, Daddy Kink, Drinking, Smoking, Drug Use, Angst, Self Hate, Semi-Public Sex (fingering), Open Marriage (Toxic Relationship), Abuse, Fluff, Family Drama, Anxiety, Panic Attacks, Abortion ...I think that's it? I'm pretty sure I covered all the bases...yeah

Songs That Inspired This Chapter: If You're Feeling Down, I Just Wanna Make You Happier Baby

Summary: Pete Brenner is perfectly fine with everyone continuing he's a selfish piece of shit. That is, until you walked into his life, and turned everything upside down.

~~

I do not give consent/permission for my stories/works to be posted elsewhere. I do not condone this type of behavior, this is for entertainment purposes only.

~~

~~

“C’mon, give me a smile,” Pete beams, his words tailing a slight slur as you make someone else’s Manhattan.

“I think it’s time for you to go, Mr. Brenner,” you giggle dismissively, flipping your hair and shaking up the cocktail mixer.

“I wonder how much sweeter my name would sound if you were underneath me,” he grins and lifts his eyes at you. You ignore the heat in the pit of your stomach, not wanting to surrender to his smarmy charm.

Pete Brenner doesn’t give up easily, you’ll give him that. 

“I’m sure your wife is happy that you’re always here, trying to bring me home instead of spending time with her,” you nod with a glance towards his left hand. A waitress comes over, picking up the next round of drinks.

“I’ve told ya, she has her fun and I have mine.”

“Cause that’s what every woman loves to hear. Woo me even more, Brenner,” you laugh, turning around and getting started on the next drink.

“Your ass looks amazing in those shorts.”

You laugh as you call over your shoulder, “I’m ordering you a cab.”

“I can take myself,” he mutters with an exasperated sigh. You know he’s pulling out his wallet, frustrated that you’re not leaving with him again.

“We go through the same motions every time, Pete. I don’t want you driving home drunk.”

“You refuse to sleep with me, but you care about my well being? I think you’re finally startin’ to warm up to me.”

“I don’t sleep with married men, Pete. Find a new dream to chase. You know the drill, the cab will be here in ten.”

Pete Brenner came stumbling into your life about a year and a half ago, and he’s been a character since day one. He was down on his luck, drinking until he could barely stand, refusing help from anyone, always ending with the same mantra every night:

“I’ve made this fucking far on my own, I can make it to my own fucking house!”

No matter how much you pushed, he wouldn’t accept help from you. He always refused service from everyone except you. At first he didn’t say anything, he just watched you and let his eyes roam over your body. He never said out loud that he wanted you, but he didn’t exactly go out of his way to hide it either. He was so obvious he never needed to say it explicitly. The glint of his gold wedding band always caught your attention under the sparkling lights of the nightclub, but seeing as he spent every night there until closing, you didn’t think it made much of a difference.

Until one night, eight months ago.

“There she is! My favorite girl!” he beamed, a cocky smile cemented on his lips.

The woman sauntering next to him didn’t seem to think too highly of the nickname he called you. 

“I’ll take a bourbon, and this sweet little thing next to me will have a Strawberry Daiquiri,” he told you, though his eyes never left your chest.

“Oh? Wedding anniversary?” you half smiled as you tried to put on your workplace happy face even though you mentally thought to yourself ‘he can’t be that sleazy to bring her to this dump on their wedding anniversary.’

“Got a new job, sweetheart,” he smirked. You didn’t miss the mischievous shine in his eyes in the club’s half light.

He was a bold mother fucker to bring his wife along just to flirt with you in plain view of her. Not many men had that much audacity when it came to you. 

“I’m Y/N,” you offered with a smile.

You genuinely pitied the woman.

“Tina,” she responded with a plastic smile.

Big boobs, micro-waist, big fake blonde hair, and Pete had ordered her a strawberry daiquiri. She fit the description of most “Tina’s” that came into the club. However, the large rock on her ring finger was nothing to scoff at.

“Oh, don’t pout, honey,” Pete taunted her. “This is what you wanted, right? Me to get a brand new important job and show you off? That’s what you’ve been bitchin about for months, isn’t it? So smile, would ya? You got ya wish.”

Someone was feeling prickly that night.

“First round of drinks are on the house. Congrats, Pete,” you smiled as you set both drinks down.

“Keep ‘em comin’, sweetheart,” he winked at you, handing you a hundred.

While it may have not been anything new to you (Pete always tipped generously), Tina’s eyes went wide and you didn’t miss the way her cheeks burned and blushed with anger.

You wanted to stay as far away from them as the night allowed.

You happily took shots with some of your regulars as the night went on and evened out. Your friends started showing up for their shifts, which helped your sour mood from earlier in the day (even though your ex-fiancee showed up outside of your apartment to harass you yet again). The more you drank, the more you started to dance along with the music; which meant Pete couldn’t keep his gaze off you.

“Why are you single?” Pete asked once his wife got up to go to the bathroom.

“You don’t strike me as the cruel type, Mr. Brenner,” you grinned as you made him another drink.

“Curiosity doesn’t equate to cruelty.”“You’re still here with your wife.”

“She’s in the bathroom.”

“Why’d you bring her tonight?”

“You heard me, this is what she wanted,” he cynically scoffed.

“They’re a lot nicer clubs than this one.”

“Can’t all be that nice if you don’t work there, sweetie.”

You both looked at each other for a moment before you heard, “Darlin’!” coming from the other end of the bar.

“Comin’ Charlie,” you laughed, breaking the stare with him, and shook your head. You used the bar to push yourself off away, down to it’s other end while Pete sipped the last of his remaining drink.

You didn’t need glasses to see that Pete Brenner was an attractive man, and he was important...well, he did his best to imply his importance (as if it would get him far with you). You’d be a liar if you said you hadn’t thought about going a few rounds with him in the bedroom, but you didn’t sleep with married men. 

No matter how hard they tried, you had a set of both personal and professional rules that you abided by.

For the rest of the night, you stayed away from Pete and his wife unless they needed a refill. It was almost as if Tina was trying to make him regret his choice of celebration because she was throwing back her drinks like they were water. The night went smoothly enough, nevertheless, until you went outside for a smoke break.

“You should really quit those things,” came the voice of the last man you wanted to see or hear from.

“What do you want, Mark?”

“I come in peace, Sweet Thing,” he laughed, putting his hands up.

You’d always hated the nickname.

“Didn’t get enough arguing this morning? What else could you possibly have to say?” you questioned while you exhaled your frustration.

“You know you miss me, baby.”

“I miss the peace I had in my life before I met you.”

“You’re still working at this dump?”

“I have bills to pay.”

“You know I’d be more than happy to take care of you.”“Don’t want it. Nor do I want anything from you,” you snapped with a growl.

“Yet you drove yourself here in the car I bought for you,” he sneered, nodding in the direction of where the car was parked.

“Take the fucking car back then, Mark. If it means you’ll leave me the fuck alone, take back every single thing you ever gave me.”

Snickering, he made his way to you and grabbed your arm saying,“don’t be bitter when I know just how sweet you’re capable of being.”

With a scoff, you threw down your cigarette and bludgeoned it, “fuck this.”

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going? Enough with the goddamn attitude, Sweet Thing-”

“Let me go!”

“You’re coming with me-”

“Let her go!” you heard Pete yell as he quickly made his way over to you, leaving his wife to stumble to their car all alone.

She looked slack jawed from Pete to you, before her stare turned venomous and settled on you. It’s just what you needed on top of everything else; his prized Barbie play-toy thinking you were fucking her husband. 

Great.

~~

Read the rest of the story here

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Hi!! I love elementary!!❤️ I have an idea for a Drabble if you don’t mind but no pressure!! I was thinking about a scene where Joel and Sarah and perhaps Tommy too help Joel go ring shopping for reader 🥰 thank you!!

The Perfect Fit

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel x f!reader (Elementary-verse)

rating: F (just some engagement ring shopping cuteness with Joel and Sarah

wc: <500

series masterlist | joel masterlist

“No, no, no—“ Sarah shook her head and kissed her teeth as he father pointed out some gaudy ring with a heart-shaped stone as the focal point. “Do you look at that and seriously think of her? An elementary school teacher? Who’s favorite thing to do beside read Victorian era romance novels is to sit at home with us and devour a pizza? Come on, dad, be realistic.”

“My god—“ Joel chuckled at his daughters harsh but correct rejection. “You ain’t holdin’ anythin’ back today, are you? I’m startin’ to think I’ll never find a ring that satisfies you.”

“Dad, you’re paying thousands and thousands of dollars for this one piece of jewelry that she will wear until she dies,” she spoke plainly, as if she had no time for funny business. “It has to be perfect. Not for me or for anyone else—for her.”

“Well,” he sighed and kissed his teeth. “I don’t have an eye for all this like you.”

“Just—“ she sighed, attempting to remain patient with her father but they’d been at this for days now, going to countless ring shops to try and find the right one. She’d pointed out so many along the way that could be a good fit, but Joel felt too uncertain about all of them, claiming they weren’t good enough to deserve a spot on her finger. “What do you think of when you think of her?”

“Summer,” he replied, a soft smile growing on his face as her image appeared in his mind. He always imagines her backlit, the summer sun behind her giving her a halo of golden light. “Gold, I guess.”

“See, that’s good!” Sarah patted his back before walking him away from the silver engagement rings and over to some gold ones. “What else?”

“I don’t know, she’s…soft. Subtle, but stands out in any room—maybe that’s just me always lookin’ for her,” he spoke with a soft flush, chuckling at himself.

“So, maybe a round stone—oval, even?” Sarah walked him over to some more rounded cuts of diamonds rather than the square, princess cut ones they’d been looking at. “Now this…this is her.”

“You know what,” he chuckled, looking into the glass display. “I think you’re right. This…is her. That one in particular—“ He pointed to a gold ring with an oval stone in the center, two smaller diamonds on either side of it, spaced out on the band. “I like that one a lot.”

“You know what? So do I,” Sarah beamed, meeting her father’s eye. The pair grinned at each other for a beat before Joel sucked in a deep breath.

“I think you did it,” he announced.

“No, I just guided you,” she reminded. “She’s gonna love it, dad.”

“For three thousand bucks? I sure hope so.”

•

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[solomams]

24. Graveyard

Notes: Prompt list by @obeymetournaments !! Mammon and Solomon visiting their favorite spot together. Mammon/Solomon/Paula (my mc). Angst. Past death. Enjoy?

-----

Mammon huffed, walking side by side with Solomon along the path. As they veered off it, and came up on a familiar patch of grass, he began to relax. When had he become so tense anyway? Maybe the second they stepped through the entrance gate.

The two of them made themselves comfortable, laying down before turning onto their sides to face each other. Mammon’s fingers idly plucked at some blades of grass, twisting them around his fingers.

Solomon reached for his hand, always making the first move. Mammon ignored the way his cheeks went hot, a stark contrast to the sorcerer's cold skin.

“Why are your hands always so cold, damn it?”

”That just means you’ll have to warm them up for me. You don’t mind, now do you?”

”Tch. And you say I’m the needy one here. Startin’ to think that’s a lie.”

“Oh? I suppose I can let go of your hand if-“

”I DIDN'T SAY LET GO. Don’t ya dare…”

Mammon gripped Solomon’s hand tight, practically crushing it within his own. Yet Solomon only smiled at him, a quiet laugh making it past his lips. He stroked his thumb across Mammon’s knuckles.

”As you command, darling,”

”That’s more like it,” Mammon scoffed, loosening his hold to something more gentle. Bringing his other hand up, he toyed with the gold band on Solomon’s ring finger.

“My love…” Mammon murmured under his breath, reciting the engraving on Solomon's band. Two beats of silence.

“…transcends time,” Solomon finished off, saying out loud the words that were engraved on Mammon's band.

The two of them laid there in comfortable silence, content to hold hands. It was their routine by now. But the two of them had been so busy, it had been a month since they last visited.

”Do you think she’s having fun?” Solomon was the one to break the silence today.

“I hope so. She better be, or I’ll kick her ass when I see her again.”

Solomon’s smile wavered, but he nodded, squeezing Mammon’s hand gently.

“Maybe she’s finally getting some rest,” Mammon grunted quietly, thumping his foot against the grass.

“I don’t believe she even knows the definition of the word rest. She’s as bad as Lucifer, I’d say.” Solomon chuckled.

”Like you’re any better. I woke up to you trying to read in bed with some dumb ball of light last night.”

”Ah, yes…. I already apologized for that. I hadn’t believed it would end up being that bright…”

They fell back into easy silence. Usually they would have brought along a game, or food for a picnic, but today they were content to simply enjoy themselves. How had it been two years already since they began coming here?

Solomon noticed the way Mammon’s gaze would linger on their matching gold bands, occasionally darting towards the grass.

“….Is it wrong that it’s getting easier?”

”No. I…. Feel the same.”

”I miss her like crazy. I do! But now…. Now I can smile more when I think of her. Instead of being angry about it…”

”I believe she’d want that for us. I’m not sure if I’m there yet,” Solomon forced out a laugh. “I regret not-“

”Oi,” Mammon let go of Solomon’s hand and pinched his cheek before cupping it. “She wouldn’t have wanted you to keep… To keep having regrets. You can’t go back and change it-“

Solomon glanced to the side. Mammon narrowed his eyes.

“Like I was sayin’… Don’t stay stuck on what you can’t change. You know the shit she listens to. All about- About not changing things. Even when you know the ending.”

Solomon hummed, pressing into Mammon’s palm. Sliding his hand up until he covered the demon’s hand with his own.

”You have a point sometimes.”

”All the time, jerk.”

”Darling.”

”Tch…Chowderhead.”

”You’ll never let that one go, will you?”

”The same way we’ll never let go of Paula. Deal with it.”

“Alright. Just for you, my love.”

Another while passed as they laid there, reminiscing. Mammon finally sat up when he felt ready. Solomon sat up as well, giving him a curious look.

”Sol, did you remember the flowers?”

Solomon nodded, snapping his fingers as a bouquet appeared in his lap in the next moment. Blue roses. Paula’s favorite.

”We’re going to be late for our reservation, huh?”

”Yeah. And Paula wouldn’t want that I’m sure. She'd probably get mad at us if we were.”

Solomon got to his feet, joints cracking in protest in a way that had Mammon snickering. Still, Solomon only rolled his eyes fondly and helped Mammon to his feet.

The two of them set the bouquet down together in it’s designated holder. They each kissed the tips of their fingers, before pressing them against smooth stone with the tenderness only a lover would know.

Mammon and Solomon laced their hands together, casting one last glance at the tombstone and it’s engravings, before heading off to their reservation for their anniversary. Where a third setting would be set, but never filled.

Here lies Paula.

Beloved friend, sorcerer, and fiancee.

In our hearts, memories, and dreams of the future.

-----

Hi guys. I made myself sad. LMAO. Tell me what you think and if you noticed anything 🫵 because there's two things I included in here that I'm wondering if anyone picked up on.

Also, I wanted to draw this idea instead, but the day I had was unimaginable. And I want to do my idea justice. So hopefully I'll get to it later. Okay goodnight !!

[normal-internet-user]

CHERRY BLOSSOM PT 2

♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡

Pt.1<-- -->Pt.3

Summary: Leo decides to get to know you better, acting on advice from Master Splinter.

Warnings: mild swearing

Requested: Kinda?

GN Reader!

.........................................

<LEO'S POV>

♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡

"Leonardo!"

Master Splinter's voice sounded from behind me. I turned around, the bag of cherries (now half empty, thanks Mikey) from (Name) in my hand.

"Yes, Sensei?"

"Come my son, I wish to speak with you."

I nodded and followed Master Splinter into the dojo. There was a traditional japanese tea table sitting in the center of the room.

I sat down opposite to Splinter, setting the bag of cherries next to the table. Sensei gestured for me to pour out the tea, and I obliged.

Sensei waited untill I had poured our tea to speak, "So where is it you were last night, Leonardo?"

I sighed, "I was out on my solo patrol, like schedualed, when I ran into some purple dragons. I wasn't prepared, and I let my guard down. I fell from the rooftop where we were fighting, onto a civilian balcony. The stranger who's balcony it was, took me in and tended to my wounds while I was unconcious. I woke in their apartment, thanked them and asked them not to speak of this, then left."

Splinter nodded, sipping from his mug, "That explains the band-aids."

I cleared my throat and blushed, "Uh- yeah."

Splinter set down his cup glancing at the bag of cherries, "I assume they also gave you the cherries?"

"Yes, Sensei."

Master Splinter nodded, folding his hands over his lap, while looking at me expectantly.

I froze, looking at Dad confused, "Is something wrong?"

"Something weighs on your mind my son, what is it? My suspicion tells me it is something this human said to you."

I sigh once again, "It's just- the way they talked to me, it's like they weren't scared at all. They even said 'Who'. Not what. I don't know I-"

"You wish to speak to them again." He said, still looking at me calmly.

"Wha- Sensei?"

Master Splinter nodded, as though he was agreeing with himself, "You wish to speak to them again, and I advize that you do."

"I- ok, uh, yes, Sensei. I will. Speak to them I mean."

"Good. but for now, 1 hour in the hashi."

"Yes, Sensei..."

<YOUR POV>

♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡

Thank god for saturday's.

That's what you thought as you layed in your nice warm bed.

It has been about three days since Leonardo had crash landed on your balcony, and you'd seen no sign of him since he'd leapt away over the New York skyline.

You didn't know wether to be dissapointed or releaved to be honest. On the one hand, you would love to get to know him better, he seemed wonderful from the short time you talked.

But on the other hand, you didn't even want to know how crazy dangerous your life would undoubtedly get should you welcome a giant ninja turtle into it.

With a groan, you pulled yourself out of bed. On your way to the kitchen, you caught a glimpse of your reflection in your vanity mirror.

You looked like you'd been run over by a dump truck. Your hair was messy, and the bags under your eye were more promonant than yesterday.

You grumbled under your breath the whole way to the kitchen. Starting the coffee, you left for your bathroom.

After your shower, you poured your coffee, then sat on your living room sofa. You planned on buying a few new plants at local nursery near you complex.

Once you finished your coffee, you placed the dirty mug by the sink. You grabbed your keys from the basket by the door, then after slipping on your shoes, you began you walk to the plant nursery.

The walk was short, around 15 minutes, and when you arrived, the owner beamed at you through the glass window.

The nursery owner was a rather elderly women, her name was Rhonda. Rhonda is in her 60's, and she's as sweet as an ice cream cone on a summer day.

"Morning, Rhonda." you said, a small smile on your face as Rhonda pulled you in for a hug.

"I was wondering when you'd be back. I was startin' to think you forgot all about me."

You let out a laugh as you madr your way over the the rows of flowers, "No way I could forget about you, Rhonda. Work's just been a pain in the butt lately, so, I figured I'd come over and buy something alittle more in season."

Rhonda smiled at you, "Well the orchids just started to bloom."

"Really? Do you think I could get one?"

"Of course you can, sweety! I set one aside just for you, I know how you are " Rhonda walked behind the counter, resting on the window sill behind it, sat a beautiful blue orchid plant.

It was a dark blue color, with touches of white in the center, the two accenting each other in a perfect meld of color, sitting in a prestein white planter pot.

"It's beautiful!" you said, eyes practically sparkling at the sight infront of you

Rhonda moved it from the window to the counter, "I had a feeling I needed to save this one."

"The blue is quite the coinsidence..." you mumbled, examining the delicate buds of the orchid.

"How so?" Rhonda asked, giving her store a once over, checking to make sure she had no other customers.

"It's- it's nothing, just something that happened the other day that involved the color blue is all."

Rhonda nodded, "Well you'll have to tell me the story sometime."

"We'll see, Rhonda." you said with a smile.

After purchasing the orchid, you ended up spending most of the day talking with Rhonda, with her putting the conversation on hold to deal with the occasional customer.

By the time you left it was well past dark, not the most ideal situation to walk home in, but it wasn't that far of a walk, right? Yeah, you'd be fine.

You hurried down the dark New York streets, passing the occasional person on foot, but most of the traffic was of the road variety.

You clutched the potted orchid closer to your chest, "Just a little further (Name), you'll be fine."

Before you could walk any further though, you felt a chill run down your spine, the feeling of eyes on you striking your senses.

You turned around to look behind you, but saw nothing. You gulped, chalking the feeling up to paranoia, continuing your trek home.

You had just turned the cornor onto your street when someone grabbed the hood of your jacket and yanked you into a nearby alley.

It was all you could do not to drop your newly purchased orchid.

You stubbled back, looking up at your attackers to see members of the Purple Dragons gang.

"All right, hand over your stuff, and no one gets hurt." The largest one said, brandishing a knife in your direction.

You backed up a little more, only to come in contact with a brick wall, great.

"L-listen, I don't h-have anything worth taking so just- just leave me alone!"

The one on the far left chuckled, "We'll decide that, pretty."

They began to walk towards you, chuckling and shoving each other around. You whimpered, then straightened your back, trying to make yourself as intimidating as possible.

"Back off!"

The purple dragons shared glances, sick smirks on their faces. Then continued toward you.

"They said, back. off."

Your eyes widened at the familiar figure standing behind the three. There stood Leonardo, tall, brave, and very angry.

The purple dragons whirled around, "It's one of them turtles!"

"Get 'im!"

The three men charged the large terrapin, (biggest mistake of their lives in your opinion), Leonardo easily dodging their assualt.

He slowly draws his blades, looking directly at the men, "I'm only going to say this once. Leave." his voice was low, and much less friendly than when he spoke to you.

The men share a fear laced glance, then looked back at Leonardo, before booking it out of the alley.

You let out a breath you hadn't known you'd been holding. Relaxing your posture from it's tense position.

"Thank you." you mumbled quietly.

"Anytime. Are you ok? did they hurt you at all?" His voice no longer rough and intimidating, but rather soft, and worried.

You looked up at him with your (Color) eyes, shaking your head, "No, they shoved me around a bit, but I'm ok."

Leo nodded his head, "Good, hey do you uh- do you want me to take you home? I know it's not to far from here but-"

"Yes, please."

Leo nodded, picking you up bridal style, with your orchid resting in your lap, one of your arms wrapped around his neck.

"Wha-"

Leo cleared his throat, "It's just- uh, quicker this way, but I can put you down if you'd like?"

You blushed slightly, "N-no it's fine. I just didn't expect you to pick me up like that."

Leo chuckled, muttering a low, "Hang on." before using the fire escape to get to the rooftops.

You gasped and tightened your grip on both your orchid, and Leo, impulsivly hiding your face in his plastron.

Thank god you couldn't see his blush.

Eventually, Leo lowered you onto your balcony, and you thanked him quietly.

"No problem, what kind of vigilante would I be if I left someone to walk alone after they'd just been attacked?"

You giggled, placing your new orchid next to your prized cherry tree, "Not a very good one?"

"Not in the slightest."

The two of you smiled at each other, then Leo seemed to notice something, or someone, on a building across the way, "Hey, uh- listen, (Name). It was great to see you again, but I gotta- gotta go, ok? I'll uh see you around. maybe... uh- just here." he handed you a slip of paper and you looked at it confused, "It's my phone number, call me if you ever need someone to walk you home, yeah?"

You nodded, smiling, "Yeah."

With that Leonardo dissapeared once again into the shadows of the city, leaving you to stare at the slip of paper resting im your palm.

<LEO'S POV>

♡~~♡~~♡~~♡~~♡

I made my way over to the rooftop I had spotted my brothers on, landing with a thump.

"What are you guys doing?" I asked, annoyed.

"Well, we wanted to see what landed fearless in the hashi, and-" Mikey cut Raph off,

"Leo's got a lover~" Mikey started to make fake kissy noises as Raph shoved him aside, smirking.

"'Call me if you ever need someone to walk you home'." Raph made his voice high-pitched as he mocked me.

I sighed, frustrated, "Ok, one: I do not sound like that. two: they are not my 'lover'-"

"Uh huh, I'm checking my data, and the results say that's 100% bullshit." Donnie smirked at me.

"Let's just- let's just get home you idiots."

"Sure thing lover boy."

This was going to be rough week.

.........................................

Badabing badaboom, Tag list!: @saspas-corner : 💕 @brunnetteiwik : 💕

[sm4sd]

pete wentz / joe troh !!!! wrote this for my dearest oomf on instagram because they love wentzman

a/n: mentions of alcohol and also out of character joe sorry NOT sorry! don't care. also this is my first fic in ummm 3 years?

tw NOT proofread don't care DONT CAREEEE.

----

the loud music and sounds of people filled the room. pete, probably too many drinks in, was asking around if anyone had seen joe. he wasn't sure why he felt like he needed to find joe, but he had always had this weird pull toward him. suddenly the music changes, pete hearing one of Fall Out Boy's own songs come on. not liking to hear his own lyrics, he steps outside, taking a seat on the stairs on the porch.

footsteps echo around him, pete turns around seeing just the man he was looking for. "don't like hearing our shit either?" joe asked. "nah dude, it's weird to me, listening to shit i wrote, you know?"

maybe it was the alcohol talking, but pete was realizing how good joe looked under the light that night. he found himself staring a little. "hey man, you okay?" joe asked, a slight hint of concern on his face. "yeah... i'm, i'm fine."

"you're staring... a lot. it's startin to freak me out a lil." joe says with an awkward laugh. "i'm sorry. it's just... never mind..." pete trails off, turning away from joe. joe takes a hand, putting it on pete's shoulder. "you can tell me, whatever it is. we're friends, remember?"

pete takes another sip of his drink before speaking. tripping over his words he mumbles out, "i just think you look really good tonight, joe. and every day actually." an expression of confusion takes over joe's face. "what are you sayin, dude. you like me or something?"

"well. i don't know. maybe. after everything with my ex... you've been here for me.. more than anyone else. and like i said. you're a pretty good looking guy. i can't help it." pete says, following his words with the rest of his drink, enjoying the burn in his throat. a welcome distraction from his awkward confession of feelings for his best friend.

"pete, im sorry. i don't know if i like guys like that. you're a great dude and all but. i just, i don't know."

pete's voice falls to an almost whisper, "i'm sorry. i didn't mean to tell you like this. i didn't mean to tell you at all. i know you're straight... this was.. so stupid. i hope we can still be friends."

joe nods along with his last statement, "it's okay man. i'm flattered at least. of course we're going to be friends. the band will not break up because of something like this." pete shakes his head dejectedly, "alright dude. thanks."

the next morning pete wakes up with a killer headache and a dreadful feeling in his stomach. he knew he had too much to drink last night, but he couldn't remember really what he did. he rolled out of bed, walking to the bathroom to brush his teeth and fix his hair. on his way to the bathroom he runs into patrick who asks, "are you okay?"

pete shrugs, "yeah? why wouldn't i be?" patrick forces a smile, "well we heard about last night... with joe. i'm sorry." all the memories from last night hit pete like a brick, all the emotions flooding back to him. "oh... right. i forgot about that. i kind of passed out right when i got back here." patrick sighed, patting his friend on the back. "you'll be okay. between us, there are better guys out there, some who are actually into dudes." pete nodded, trying to convince himself of that.

the next few weeks are... awkward to say the least. joe is still nice to him, but it feels forced. the chemistry between the whole band is becoming thrown off. their tour was coming up soon, and each rehearsal was only getting worse. joe and pete refusing to speak, andy staying out of it, and patrick being overly cheerful about everything, trying to bring the band back together.

it has been 2 weeks since the night of the party. today was the worst rehearsal the band has had yet. patrick beginning to get fed up with everyone's bullshit, "guys, you either have to work out your personal problems or put them aside." joe nodded in agreement, and pete walked off, going to sit in his room.

pete collapsed into his bed, his mind racing. patrick's words echoed through his mind, "work out your personal problems." and joe's rejection stinging like a fresh wound in his heart. a few moments later he heard a quiet knock on his door, "pete, can i come in? we need to talk." assuming it was joe he let out a muffled, "come in."

joe opened the door, sitting down next to pete on the bed. "alright, i'm sorry i've been avoiding you... that night... it made me realize a few things about myself that i've just been reflecting on."

"what do you mean?" pete asked. joe sighed, looking down at the ground. "i think i've had feelings for you this entire time. i just. i've never liked a guy before, you know? it's weird. i never really thought about it until you said something. i know you were drunk, but if you'd still want to maybe... try this out? i'd like that a lot." a small smile tugged at pete's lips, "i don't know... you really hurt me that night. i still like you but i think i need some time."

joe put his arm around pete, pulling him closer to his body. "that's okay, i'll be here when you're ready. we can figure this out together."

without thinking, pete placed his hand on joe's cheek, and pulled his head close. their lips connecting in a gentle kiss. when they break apart, a smile fills joe's face. "first kiss with a guy, huh? not too bad right..." pete jokes. joe laughs at pete's comment, "yeah, that was pretty good actually."

pete grins, his ego speaking for him, "well i'm always here if you ever want to do that again..." wordlessly joe leans back in, pulling pete close and kissing him again. pete's hand found solace in joes curls, and joe's hands resting on pete's back. their mouths moved together in a natural rhythm, everything feeling right for both boys.

pete pulls away from the kiss, "we can't just be friends who kiss. what are we? what is this going to be?" joe lays down next to him, "well.. do we need a label? we're just... us. you know?" pete laughs in agreement, "sure. us. it would be cool if you wanted to be my boyfriend though." joe giggles, almost adjacent to a middle schooler with a stupid crush, "then i'll be your boyfriend."

[noirvette]

WE NEVER EXISTED

[band smau]

[TWENTY ONE]

masterlist.

prev. | next.

“Thanks for having us over, Y/n.” Nichole gushes, packing her bag up and heading over to the door.

“Of course, anytime, and I’ll see you later tonight with some of my own things.” You answered.

“See you later! I’ll make some calls for locksmiths in the meantime for you too.”

“Thanks Nicky! I really do appreciate it.”

"Girl, you know I got you, besides we haven't been together in so long, Kyle's been snoggin' all your attention lately and I'm startin to feel jealoussss." She teased.

You roll your eyes and lightly push Nichole's shoulder, "You know it ain't gonna be like that."

Nichole puts her hands up, "Hey! I'm just sayin' Kyle's a good guy.. you guys do work.."

You hum, "It's too soon, I just.. Kenny and I just ended you know and it would be awful to take advantage of Kyle's feelings like that."

Nichole freezes, she looks around and lowers her voice, "You..know?"

You nod and lower your voice too, "I overheard... Kenny and Kyle's fight I.. I overheard specifically Kenny saying that Kyle likes me and just.. Kyle doesn't know I know."

Nichole gasps and covers her mouth in shock, "Girl... oh my god. Girl to girl, right now what are your thoughts on him."

You smile bittersweetly, "I love Kyle I do.. I don't.. I don't know if it's like that though you know? Time could tell but.. no I.." You sigh, "Everything is too soon."

Nichole nods, "Smart, you've always been smart with your feelings, Y/n. He's waited this long for you though.. I'm sure he'd wait longer."

Nichole straightens herself up and heads out the door, "Well... I'll see you later!"

You offer a wave in return and sit to think about Kyle. You cared deeply for him, he's been a good friend to you for years, a good bandmate, a good man. You know his actions to you came from the heart and that he isn't trying to be superficial and selfish by helping you out. You didn't doubt that if Kenny hadn't asked you out those years ago, you'd have probably been with Kyle at this point in time. You didn't doubt that Kyle wasn't a good man, you just didn't know if.. you exactly wanted a relationship right now.

Relationships were draining, at least your last one was, mainly towards the end. Kenny was also a good boyfriend but he could be rather.. greedy with things. He often would take and rarely gave. He'd often ghost you at times but then make up for it with the affection bombing afterwards. It wasn't rare for Kenny to go mia for a few days, return like nothing happened, and devote all his time to you before doing it all over.

You sighed, boys suck and your heart was torn, on one hand it was comforting that Kyle still liked you, you wouldn't be lying if you said that somewhere in your heart you naturally held a soft spot for him, but you knew it was too soon to jump into anything. The press would have a hay day and you knew how the media reacted to whenever a female artist got into a new relationship. That wasn't the only problem though.. you didn't want to think Kyle to think he was being used either.

God you wished life was easier.

"Y/NNNNNNN" Clyde whines out, running over to you and enveloping you into a hug.

"Oh- Clyde! Hey You're up!"

"We're all awake, anyhow I hate to goooo, can't I stay?"

Chuckling you remove yourself from Clyde's embrace, "As much as I love you Clyde you gotta get back to your own apartment, I'm sure Tolkien would like to see his roommate for once."

Clyde rubs the back of his head sheepishly, "Yeah.. I think Tolkien is sick of me though, especially after I gave him his gifts from New York."

You purse your lips, "I told you that those New York shirts were tacky and he wouldn't like them."

"That's exactly why he should like them- they're tacky!"

"Yeah well isn't Bebe sick of you being at her place this entire time?"

"Oh... yeah.. hey Y/n..."

"No you can't stay here, go back to your OWN place Donovan."

"Yes mom."

You scoff, "HEY!"

Clyde chuckles and starts heading out the door, "See you Y/n!! Love youuuuuuuuuuuu."

You snort, "Bye Clyde, love you too."

You turn around and come face to face with Stan next, "Stan! Next to go?"

Stan nods, "Yeah, hey I just wanted to check in again, how are you?"

You offer him a smile, "Thanks, I'm doing good Stan, thanks for constantly checkin up on me, you're a good guy."

Stan's face becomes tinged with a blush, "Oh dude, thanks Y/n, Wendy says all the time that friends are one of the most important things in life and we're friends! And my friends' health is important to me."

"You're too sweet Stan. Tell Wendy I said hi."

"I will! You better text her though yourself."

"I'll text her in a bit, see you later Stan."

"See ya!" Stan heads out the door.. which left Kyle.

You pad into your living room, glancing at Kyle who's clearing up where he slept and packing away his things, "Late to waking up?"

Kyle groans, "Yeah well Stan likes to move when he's sleeping."

You move to sit on the adjacent couch, "Oooo, ouch."

"Mhmm."

Kyle finishes the rest of his packing, "Thanks for having us over, Y/n."

"Anytime! You guys are always welcome. You think we'd do these more."

Kyle tilts his head in thought, "We do spend months together when we tour, so.."

"Right.. right I can only stand you for so long after all." You tease.

Kyle snorts, "Yeah I know I'm a lot to handle."

You both walk over to your front door, "You'd let me know if.. if you needed anything right Y/n? You know that I care about you right and if something was up, or if you're not actually doing okay or if something was wrong or if-"

You hold a hand up to stop Kyle's rambling, "Yes, Kyle. To all, I know that you care for me. I know that you're all there for me, especially during this. And I would obviously let you know if something happened."

Kyle breathes a sigh of relief, "You're.. important to me- to us. You know?"

You put a hand on Kyle's shoulder, "I know, I appreciate it. I appreciate you. You've done a lot for me recently and I don't know how I could ever repay you. You take care of yourself too, yeah? You've been focusing so much on other people that you gotta remember about yourself."

Kyle blushes in embarrassment, "Yeah.. yeah you're right. I'll see you later, Y/n."

He heads out the door and you wave as he leaves. Once the door closes you exhale, maybe you need to revisit how you're feeling.

TAGLIST: @captivq @kimiesstuff @bwljules @the-cooler-kira @1one1person1 @kenny-the-ken @neenieweenie @n0tangeliccc @frogindisguise @revzxn @ryenwritess @mirophobic @gonefiishiing @musiclovebot @bootsieboo @bonez4brainz @s0l4riss @1996kj @sweetadonisbutbetter @scinclaitnoir @okarigold

[sweaterkittensahoy]

I mean, I'm down for some Lemmons X Rosenthal running into each other in town/off duty type shenanigans, if that's a prompt you would like to run with. - @bobparkhurst

There's only one place in the town next to the base that plays live music, but all Rosie needs is one place, so it's fine by him.

The place is absolutely packed with pretty girls and men in uniform. It's a five-piece band, people three deep at the bar, and the windows fogging up from the heat of everyone moving around.

Rosie taps his foot to the music as he gets on line for a beer. It's a queue, he reminds himself and chuckles. He looks around the crowd and spots several familiar faces, then someone stumbles into his back.

"Oh, shit. Sorry. Sorry."

Rosie turns around to assure whoever ran into him its all fine, and he's looking down at Ken Lemmons, who has his hands out in front of him and takes a step back when he realizes it's Rosie.

"Was that a curse, Ken?" Rosie asks with a grin. "I don't think I've ever heard you say a word worse than 'heck.'"

Ken relaxes instantly. "Well, your granny obviously didn't come at you with the soap if you said any of 'em."

"No, my grandma's a fan of a wooden spoon on the butt," Rosie replies. "You okay, by the way?" he asks, reaching out to hold Ken still. He's moving along to the music a bit, tapping his foot and lightly scuffing his other foot in counter-rhythm.

"Fine, Sir," Ken says, glancing over his shoulder. "Got run over by people headed to the dance floor. Glad I ran into the back of you instead of someone else, at least. These RAF boys like to fight."

"Cursing and getting into fights? Really, Lemmons, it's like I don't know you at all."

Ken laughs. "I'm not startin' the fights," he says. "But I'm not walkin' away from them." His grin settles into the smirk of a man who knows he'll win if he's challenged.

Rosie is suddenly aware of how close they're standing and how good Ken looks in his fresh-pressed uniform. He's never seen him in anything other than his coveralls, which certainly isn't hard to look at either. But this is nice in its own way. Especially the way he's wearing his cap angled on his head, his curls still as much controlled chaos as ever.

"I'm surprised you're not on the dance floor," Rosie says, "You're vibrating along with the beat, and you look sharp all buttoned up."

Ken shrugs. "No one's asked," he says. "And I don't prefer to lead."

"No?" Rosie points to Ken's feet. "You've got the rhythm for it."

Ken shrugs. "Oh, sure, but it's more fun to follow, I think. It feels nicer."

Rosie's intrigued. He shifts so he and Ken are out of the queue, bringing him along with a hand on his arm. "You think so?"

Ken blushes suddenly. "Um, yeah." He says. "I--"

"You wanna dance with me?" Rosie asks, charmed by that blush. "I like to lead."

Ken's eyes go wide. "Um. Yeah. Yeah, that'd be nice."

Robert offers Ken his arm. "Let's go then," he says. "Any dances you don't know?"

"Don't think so," Ken says. "Unless there's some new thing you learned just before you got here."

"Only how to fly in my skivvies," Rosie says, intentionally lowering his voice so it's for Ken's ears only. He can't help himself. Not with Ken's hand tucked into his elbow and looking so good all put together.

Ken flashes him a look, the blush back, but a knowing glint in his eyes. "I like how I get held when I don't lead," he says as he and Rosie step onto the edge of the dance floor. "It tells you a lot about a guy."

Rosie pulls Ken in just close enough to be cheekily improper. "Well, let's see what you learn about me."

[queen-scribbles]

18. Compromise (WotR; Rethelion/Ulbrig)

Rethelion had done her share of negotiating in her time. She'd never thought there would be a need to do so with someone she was sweet on. However, Ulbrig had been... not avoiding her, but seeming reluctant for conversation since that one night at camp. She suspected it had something to do with fearing awkwardness over his rebuff of her... intentions.

That wouldn't do; she wanted friends and comrades and his company even more than she wanted to pursue him. So, one night, as they camped in a rocky ravine just north of Leper's Smile, Rethelion plunked herself down next to him without waiting for an invitation. She rested her curve blade across her knees and smiled cheerfully as she pulled out her whetstone.

Ulbrig shot her a bemused look. "Need something, warchief?"

"Yes, I need to talk to you," Rethelion said, skimming the whetstone along the blade. Focus on the task rather than how the firelight deepened the red of his hair. "It feels like we haven't gotten to do that much."

He snorted and fidgeted with one of the beaded bands hanging off his belt. "What's there t' talk about? Killing oglins, losing friends and makin' more, having a drink... We're all doing the same damned things."

She nodded agreement of a sort with his point, silent for a few more strokes of stone against steel. "How are you doing with regard to your clan?"

"Startin' to wrap my head around it, but it's still hard to grasp that kin I knew as lads and lasses are grown and gone, even if the oglins didn't get 'em."

Rethelion cocked her head. "It is hard, even when you watch it happen. Can't imagine what a shock it is to wake up and find so much time has passed." She balanced the blade and reached over to give his knee a solitary pat before withdrawing. "As I've said, I'm always happy to listen if you want to talk."

Ulbrig still flinched at the brief touch. "We've been over this, warchief." He raked one hand through his hair, briefly holding the ginger mess at bay and letting her see the conflict in his eyes. "Relic like me's not what you want."

"First off, I was offering a listening ear as a friend, nothing more. I can do that regardless of... anything else." She set aside the blade and leaned forward, forearms braced against her knees. "Second, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. I have a deal for you, Ulbrig of clan Olesk; I won't make any further overtures without some sign of reciprocation from you. My intentions and interest are clear, and I don't want to make you uncomfortable." She did want to run her hand over his well-muscled arms, up to rasp against his beard and... but she shook those thoughts away as counterproductive. "You know where I stand, take as long as you need to figure where you do."

Something like amusement colored Ulbrig's eyes as he cocked his head at her, hair falling in waves over his shoulder. She wanted to run her fingers through that hair so bad. No. Focus, Rethelion. "And my end of this bargain, Commander?"

"Very simple: you remember my heritage" --a gesture toward her sharply pointed ears as the clearest example-- "and the fact I have two and a half centuries under my belt." She snorted a laugh. "I'm far more a relic than you; old enough to have met your grandparents when they were youngins. I'm familiar with loss and know what I'm getting myself into. Keep that in mind as you figure out where you stand. If you have other reasons to object and don't wish to pursue anything, fine. But if that was the only issue, maybe take things into consideration."

His eyes gleamed in the firelight, and he gave a firm, deliberate nod. "Your terms are acceptable."

He held out a hand to shake, and Rethelion had to fight the urge to linger when she took it. But that wouldn't be keeping her end of the deal. So she let go and enjoyed the persistent warmth, hoping he felt the same.

[miyuhpapayuh]

19. Load, cock and aim.

Stevie sits in the corner of the dark room, watching as the man, officially known as X, and his friend rubber band three stacks and toss them in a duffle bag.

She sucks her teeth, and stares towards the window as she feels their eyes on her.

"Did you say sumn, sweetheart?" X walks towards her, squatting in front of her as she continues to look in every other direction.

"I believe I asked you a question," he reaches out for her chin, before roughly gripping it, forcing her to look at him.

"I'm startin' to think that you like this typa' shit.," he laughs, staring at her frustrated expression. "You a freak, baby?"

"You like when them niggas get rough witchu, huh? You like playin' hard to get, so a nigga like me can come and take it?"

"No—"

"Shut the fuck up." He lets her face go, before standing back up and fiddling with his belt buckle.

"Should we show this bitch how we get down, man?" He looks towards his friend, who's got his eyes locked in on Stevie's terrified gaze.

"Nah.... leave her alone, man."

"What?," he pulls her off the floor and pushes her up against the wall by her face, adding to the many bruises she's received, since she's been here.

A small whimper comes from her, causing him to push her further up against the wall and press himself against her. "She look like she want it, right?"

"She don't, nigga. Look, I just came to collect the money, man. I ain't come here for this shit."

"Fuck is you sayin' to me, man?"

"I'm sayin' you need to let shorty go."

"Fuck you!" Pulling out his gun, X shoots him in the head, causing the bag to fall out of his hand. The man falls limp to the ground.

Stevie stares at the perfectly round hold in the man's head as he becomes submerged in his own blood. He'd been the third person she's seen him kill, within the short period of time.

"If I really wanted to, I coulda killed you a long time ago." He lets her go, stumbling as she elbows him in the chest and holds her hand over the reopened wound on her cheek.

"Then, why don't you just do it??”

"Cause, I want your bitch of a boyfriend to be here to witness it. Now, sit tight and shut the fuck up." He tucks his gun back in his waistband and pulls the body up the stairs and out of sight, leaving a trail of blood behind.

She sinks back down to the floor, pulling her shaky legs up to her chest. Leaning her head on the wall behind her, she lets out an unsteady breath.

It's only been a day and a half, but you couldn't tell her that she hadn't served a life sentence in the dark basement.

She'd figured it out, after a good thirty minutes. The guns mounted to the far wall by the stairs behind a coded door, the tool boxes and just the way the space is set up told her all she needed to know.

Besides it not being an ideal place to take even the slightest of naps, even if she wanted to, her mind was clouded by images of all the bloodied bodies she'd seen.

Looking out of the dusty window, she squints at the crack in the top right corner.

"Aye, lil bit," X comes back in with keys in one hand and a gun in the other. "Ima be out for a couple hours. Don't do anything dumb, while I'm gone."

She glances in his direction and nods. "Cool."

"Cool? What I tell you bout that shit, bitch?" He quickly walks towards her, sending her scurrying away.

"Please... we don't gotta talk, man. Just go bout your shit!" She whimpers.

"Look at me. Now." She knew by this point, that she'd get hit either way, so it'd be best to just get it over with.

Looking in his direction, he pauses for a second, before punching her. Taking most of the fire that rushes her face, she bites the inside of her cheek and breathes roughly through her nose.

"I ain't wanna do that." He walks away and out the door, slamming it behind him.

Stevie's tired tears fall for the thousandth time as she holds her bruised face. She could only imagine what she actually looked like, for he never gave her permission to use the light in the few times she had to go to the bathroom, along with him standing very close to the door as she did so.

She knew for a fact that the inside of her right cheek was cut open, due to him hitting her the first night she was here, along with a few cuts, including the eyesore on her cheek from her own knife, which he stole.

She sighs and lets the tears fall as the day drags on.

Soon enough, she jolts back awake to the door being roughly opened and closed. A high X hovers over her, staring at the diamond on her finger.

"Gimme the ring or I'll cut it off."

"What?, you can't take my— ow!" Gripping her finger, he pulls out her knife and cuts a slit just below the ring, causing her to scream out.

"Okay! Okay!" He smirks, before snatching it off.

"It's nice when we do things my way, don't you agree?"

"Yes," she sobs, placing her thumb over her bleeding finger.

"You want a bandaid, baby?"

"No."

He walks back out the door and she's left alone, again.

Staring at the floor, a broken cry comes from her before she can stop it, eventually turning into raspy sobs that choke her up.

"I gotta get outta here.," she mumbles to herself.

Sitting at his wooden dining table, Rod chews on his thumbnail as his anger eats away at him.

Josh managed to wrangle up their other friends in such short notice, and have them meet up.

"What's the situation, dude?" Jay asks, pulling at his curls, out of habit.

"You 'member them niggas I told y'all bout? The ones we took care of a couple months back?"

"Yeah," Ryan leans forward, "somethin' happened?"

"Yeah. Something happened." Josh replies.

"What?" They ask in unison.

Rod sighs and stares the scattered digs in the table, before finally speaking. "We missed one, somehow and he's got my girl." He winces at his own words.

"What's the plan, bro?"

"I don't—" he heavily sighs, "I don't have a plan. I just wish it was as simple as me finding him and killing him."

"You got the license plate. Give me that shit and we'll track it." Josh says, getting up from the table.

"I wrote it down. It's on a sticky note by the computer." Josh nods, before heading that way.

"It might be a bad time— shit, I know it is, but.... is this like the time with your ex girlfriend or..." Ryan asks.

Rod lifts his gaze up from the table and shakes his head. "Nah. She was trouble. Stevie's a godsend. I've already killed for her, once, and I'll continue to do so." He answers, straight.

"We're right behind you, aight?" Jay pats Rod's shoulder.

"Yeah, anything you need, you got it."

"I just need her back, man. That's it."

The pair nod and stand up from the table, heading over to where Josh is.

The pain in Rod's chest is one he'd never felt. Not even when his ex got hurt, that time— it's as if he could hear her screams as that son of a bitch dragged her away from her normalcy.

Yeah, Stevie had her own line of issues, but she definitely didn't need this to add to it.

He quickly wipes away his tears and pushes up from the chair, heading into the kitchen to grab the ringing house phone.

He speaks a stressed hello into the phone, alerting his mom on the other end. "What's wrong, baby?"

"I... don't worry about it, I'll be fine—"

"Roderick Jamal Black, don't lie to me." Her stern tone causes him to sigh.

"Fine, but I'm not doing this over the phone. Pull up to the crib."

"I'm on my way." He hangs up and heads into the living room, watching Jay and Ryan hover around the monitor as Josh skims over the information.

"Find anything?" Rod asks.

"Sure did. I got the last address this was registered under. You wanna check it out?"

"Can y'all check it out? Ma's coming by so we can talk this situation out."

"You finally gonna tell her?" Josh asks, turning around in his chair.

"I have to, at this point."

"Aight, we'll check it out and if we find out anything, I'll call you." Josh gets up and grabs his gun off the coffee table, tucking it in his waistband. Jay and Ryan follow him out.

"So, what really happened, that night?" Viv sits across from her son, watching him nervously bounce his left leg.

"There was this disrespectful dude at Stevie's job. She'd told me about how he'd get up in her face and harass the hell outta her, even after she told him that she ain't wanna be bothered. After one of our dates, I brought her home and her best friend's face was busted cause that same nigga went to her job to find out where Stevie was, and I don't know... I just snapped." He stares at the rug underneath his feet.

"What did you do?"

"I— it was me and Josh, actually— we found out where dude stayed and took him outta sight. I was originally just gonna talk my shit and leave him there, maybe, but he started beggin' for his life and shit and I wasn't having that, so I shot him.... dumped him by the wayside."

"Roderick.," she scoots towards the edge of the cushion and sighs. "I'm not surprised. You did what you felt you needed to do to protect those girls. Now, were there other alternatives that could've worked? Of course."

"Well, I feel like I should've circled around, after we smoked the rest of ‘em cause—" he runs his hand down his face.

"Cause, what?"

"Cause his brother's got Stevie, ma."

"Whatchu mean he got Stevie? Why didn't you lead with that??"

"Cause you wanted to know what happened." He stands up and Viv does the same.

"We coulda had this conversation, any day, had I known that she was fucking kidnapped. That's more important."

"I know it is. Josh took Jay and Ryan on a hunt for the license plate, said they'd call me when they found something."

"What's your plan, when they do find something?"

"Kill 'em. All of 'em. I don't care bout nothing else, but getting her back."

"Good. Now," the phone starts ringing, halting Viv's upcoming words. Rod stares in its direction and back at his mom, before walking towards, picking it up.

"Hello.," his rough tone causes the person on the other end to deeply chuckle.

"I'm so glad we finally reached you, pretty boy. I'm sure you've been waiting to hear from me."

"You call my phone tryna be fuckin' funny? Where the fuck is my girl?"

"I did, muthafucka, cause this shit is hilarious to me. How the fuck you thought you killed all of us. Y'all some smart bitches, I'll give you that much, but that'll all be a memory for ya mothas, when I smoke the both of ya. Check your review next time you decide to snatch somebody's brother out they shit. You watchin’ him and ain't think somebody was watchin’ you?”

Rod lets out a breathy laugh in response.

"Aight, bitch. We'll definitely see. Where the fuck is my girl and don't make me ask you, again."

"Ayo sweetheart, ya boyfriend is on the phone and he wanna talk to you. Don't be stupid, aight?" Shuffling is heard in the background, before Stevie's voice comes through.

"Rod, baby i'm so sorry."

Rod immediately breaks down, responding to her in broken sentences.

"Baby, I'm so s–sorry!  I know I shouldn't have left you. I should've stayed.... I wasn't there to protect you— I'm gonna get you outta there!"

"Baby, this isn't your fault, okay? We knew he was coming. He would've gotten me, whether I was with you or not."

Her weary voice tears at his heart, but her tone throws him off.

"Are you okay??”

"I'm fine." No, she wasn't.

"Stevie... is he standing by you?"

"Mhm," she says, keeping her eyes trained on him as he smugly smirks at her, while smoking his blunt.

"I'm gonna get you outta there, okay? Every last one of them bitches is gonna die, you hear me?"

"I hear you. I love you." A tear trails down her cheek.

"I love you, too. It won't be much longer." The line goes dead and he slams the phone it down on the counter, before walking upstairs, into his room.

Wildly wiping his tears away, he reaches for a box on his top shelf in the closet, pulling out his revolver.

"Where ya goin'?" Viv asks, watching him from the doorway.

"Ima go get 'em, myself. I'ma ride 'round 'til I find him. He playin' with what's mine. I don't like that... I don't fucking like that!"

"Hey, hey. Go out there and handle your business, then. Show that muthafucka who you are."

He heads out with her in tow. They hug each other and get into their cars, going in opposite directions.

Rod dials Josh's number, growing anxious the more it rings.

"Yo, we got 'em. We on the corner of Houston and 1st. I was just about to call you."

"I'm on my way."

Across the street in Josh's car, parked behind a cluster of tall trees, Jay leans up from the backseat with the black binoculars up to his eyes.

Being back near the same house after so long, has physical shaken Rod, to the point where his friends had to plead for him to not immediately rush towards the house, when they pulled up to it.

"Still no movement, man." The quad grumble to themselves.

"You sure they can't see us?" Ryan asks.

"They can see a car, but my windows are tinted. They ain't seein' a damn thing."

"Aye, somebody's comin' out,"

Rod sits up in the front passenger seat, squinting towards the blue, stone house as if he's close enough to really see anything.

"Whatchu see?" He asks.

"Some dude with dreads—" Rod snatches the binoculars away from Jay and places them up over his own eyes.

"Damn!"

"My bad!"

Jay sucks his teeth as Rod zeroes in on the son of a bitch that's holding his angel hostage, twirling her pink knife around as he and two other men trail towards a black car in the driveway.

Placing his hand on the door handle, Ryan reaches forward and smacks it away. "Don't, man! You're gonna blow the plan to shit."

Still staring at them, the trio finally get into the car and peel off down the street.

"Let's move." Rod gets out and leads the boys towards the house, quickly circling around the back, where the van is sitting.

"Here it is, bruh." Josh taps the license plate with the side of his gun.

"Aight, you lookin' out?" Rod asks Ryan, who nods and heads towards the left side of the house, near the front.

"We gotta get in without making too much noise or we'll blow our cover, cause I hear a voice." Rod pulls his gun out of his waistband and heads up the steps that lead to the back door.

Pulling the screen door open, it slightly creaks causing him to suck his teeth, but continue moving in, with Josh and Jay in tow.

With their weapons drawn, the trio head through the deep kitchen and into the hallway, spreading out.

“In there”, Rod mouths, before lowering his weapon and moving into the living room, where two men look up in his direction.

"Thought we'd join the party, niggas." He spats, aiming his gun at them. "Where's my girl at?"

"Your girl?," one of them stares at him, incredulously, "fuck is you talkin' bout, young blood?"

"Play stupid if you want, I'll blow yo neck off. Where the fuck is she at?" He barks, causing them to get up from the couch, both towering over him at least an inch, but he's far from shaken.

"You got some big balls on you, boy. You might wanna calm down, cause we don't know what the fuck you talkin' bout. We just waitin' on this nigga to come back with the weed, aight?"

"Yeah... aight." Rod turns towards Jay, " go get Ryan." He then makes his way down the hall, beginning to open up every door in search for Stevie.

"Stevie?," he kicks the bathroom door open, finding her ring sitting on the counter, with a stain of blood on it. He snatches it up and stuffs it in his pocket, growing angrier.

"Stevie!.... Stevie!"

"Rod?!" A beating sound starts underneath his feet, causing him to look down and continue calling for her.

"Oh, would you shut the fuck up, please." Turning around at the end of the hall, Rod comes face to face with the dread headed man of the hour, once again.

"I was wondering when you were gonna make an appearance." The sinister smirk finds its way into his face.

"I heard you were causin' problems in my house—"

"—this ain't ya house, nigga. I shoulda burned this shit down."

"It is my fuckin' house, bitch boy. I run this muthafucka! Just like I'm bout to run you and the other three, right into the ground." He starts reaching for his gun.

"Nah, put the weapons away and fight me like a man, bitch."

Rod keeps his gun drawn, until X pulls his out and sits it on the ground, kicking it over. Rod does the same, before delivering a crucial uppercut to his jaw.

X reaches out with a left jab, but misses and gets punched clean across the face. Spitting out blood, he laughs.

"You fightin' like you got some shit to prove."

"You took my girl, nigga! What the fuck you think this is?!" Rod lunges forward and tackles him to the ground, punching him in the nose, making it bleed.

"Guess ima have to teach you, again.," he grips him up by the collar and punches him, hearing something in his neck snap, before repeating it a couple more times.

"D!," X screams, sending both men into the hallway with their weapons aimed for Rod, who openly laughs and stares down at him.

"You're funny, you know that?," he looks up to see Josh in the doorway, before nodding at him. Josh picks the men off, sending their bodies to the floor with a collective thud.

"Can't ever handle your battles your fucking self, just like a bitch!" He punches him again, bloodying up his left eye, before dropping him to stand back up and grab both guns off the ground.

"You better tell me where she is." He advises, cocking the gun.

"I ain't tellin' you shit!" X pulls himself up against the wall and refuses to answer the question, infuriating Rod.

"Aight." He walks towards him and kicks him in the face. "Answer me, bitch! I killed all your men— it's just me and you!"

"No witnesses, right?," he stomps on his chest, releasing a deep groan. "No muthafuckas left behind, right?!" He does it again and again and again, until X is coughing up blood.

Walking from the battered man, Rod stops in front of the living room and points back down the hall., "watch that bitch, for me. I gotta go find Stevie."

"Gotchu."

Making his way back outside, he heads towards the left of the house, finding two men sitting in the same black car from earlier.

Stealthily heading over towards it, he ducks behind an aluminum trash can and shoots through the rolled down window, hitting the passenger right in the neck.

The driver yells as he goes limp in the seat, before getting out with his own gun drawn. "Who is the fuck is that?!"

"Merry Christmas, bitch." Aiming for the jugular, Rod takes the kill shot, watching as blood splats on the windshield of the car as the body hits the ground.

Coming out of his hiding spot, he makes his way around the back, where the basement is located.

"Of course, there's a fucking lock on the got damn— Stevie! Baby, can you hear me?" He bangs on the wooden door.

"I can hear you! It's dark in here.... I can't see anything, since he covered up the fucking window!"

"Move into the corner for me, okay? I'm gonna kick the door in." He hears her feet scurry in the distance.

"Okay, I moved!"

Tucking his gun away, he boots the door down with one kick, before searching around for Stevie.

"Come out, baby... I'm here." As soon as she latches onto his arm, he pulls her into his chest, holding her tighter than ever. Her sobs wrack through them both.

"I'm so fucking sorry, Vie." He kisses the top of her hair, noticing the tiny stains of blood embedded in certain spots of her natural curls, causing him to pull away and inspect her with the little light that he has from outside.

"Is that your blood?"

"N-no, it was this guy that he was arguing with. He got in my face with the gun and told me to shoot him. I refused, so he shot him in front of me. I'm sure it's on my face, too."

Pulling her into the light, completely, he almost faints at the sight of her beautiful face, littered with purple and red bruises.

"Did he do this to you?"

"Yes.," she sobs, quietly, for the millionth time.

Something in his head switches off as he picks Stevie up and heads back into the house, setting her down on the hardwood floor.

"You hit my girl, bitch?" Heading straight for X, he punches him in the nose, instantly breaking it from the force alone, causing him to groan.

"He was talkin' cold hearted shit bout ya girl. That's why his fingers broke." Josh kicks him in the back of the neck. Rod stares down at his bent knuckles and steps on them, knowing he used them to bruise Stevie.

"Talk yo shit, muhfucka!" Another kick to the rib cage, causes him to groan loudly.

"Ah," X starts laughing, crazily. "You're such a bitch, dawg.”

"I'm a bitch, huh?," Rod looks over his shoulder at Stevie's stoic expression, motioning for her to come closer.

She does so, before grabbing the gun off the floor, holding it in her shaky hands and aiming for his shoulder.

"Do it, baby." Rod encourages, smirking as he watches her cock the gun and shoot, not even flinching at how loud X's scream is.

Dropping the gun, she pounces on him and begins punching him in the face with every bit of strength she has left, breaking his nose even farther.

"You're the bitch!," she screams, while Rod and his friends stand around her and watch. "I told you he was comin' for that ass, but you ain't expect me to finish it, did you?" She spits on him, again, before standing up and kicking him in the face, repeatedly.

"This is for kidnapping me," his cries for mercy infuriate her, causing her to lean down and punch him in the mouth. "Shut the fuck up! Isn't that what you kept fucking telling me?!"

"This is for tryna rape me!" She stomps down roughly on his clothed lap, causing an airy scream to leave him.

"This is for hitting me." The bottom of her bare foot crushes his windpipe in the midst of her rage, but she keeps going, breaking his skull as well.

Her screams echo throughout the house as Rod pulls her away from the lifeless body, which she's still reaching out for.

"It's over, Vie." She continues to scream as he slides down the wall, pulling her into his chest as she stares at the man who could've ended everything.

"Take the body out back." The trio pick him up and carry him out, while Rod rubs Stevie's back and tries desperately to calm her down.

"It's over, baby.... it's over."

"Where's Stevie?" Josh asks.

"She's with her parents. Imagine explaining to them that their daughter was kidnapped by the psychotic brother of the muthafucka that used to harass her at her old job."

"What did they say?"

"They looked at me like I was crazy, which is expected. She's gonna stay with them, while we clean this mess up."

Riding out to the same deserted building that succumbed John, they hop out and pull the body bag of mutilated body parts of the trunk, dragging it down by the river with their triple-gloved hands.

"We came in a little sloppy, this time." Rod stresses, before placing the surgical mask over his face.

"It was a personal attack, bro. He had ya girl," opening the bag, he gets ready to pick it up when Rod stops him, reaching inside for X's head.

"Bitch ass niggas, man." Backing up some, he drop kicks the head into the dark water, laughing as it submerges, quickly.

"Are you done, man?" Josh stares at his maniacally inclined best friend as he walks beside him to lift the bag up.

"Yeah, I'm good now."

Three more hours of scrubbing the cars, the hallway, the basement and the walls, including Ryan borrowing his uncle's tow truck, so they could drive the car off the cliff, and they were finally done with the situation.

For real, this time.

"I appreciate y'all, man. I don't think I woulda been able to pull this off by myself."

"Aye, we meant it when we told you that we had your back. You're like our mother's kid." Jay slaps his shoulder.

"The feeling's mutual, negroes." They all dap each other up and head their separate ways.

Getting inside his car, three blocks from the house, Rod sits Stevie's knife inside the glove compartment, before making the engine come alive, peeling off down the street.

Meeting her parents at the hotel they were staying, Gene was standing near the entrance, as if he was waiting for his return.

"Let's talk, yeah?"

"Okay."

"So... Stevie didn't wanna talk about it for obvious reasons, but I just need a little bit of clarity on this situation. First off, I don't know what you did to get her out of there, but I'm glad you did it." Gene pats his shoulder. “We've been worried sick about her.”

"It was actually Stevie. Of course, I was there to get her out and do my damage, but but she freed herself... she finished the job." Rod stares at the dirt on his shoes and feels his throat become dry.

"Son, are you telling me that my daughter killed that man?"

"It was important that she was the one to do so. He'd tortured her, beat her and tried forcing himself on her— look, this too much, right now. Can I go see her?”

"Yeah, come on." Gene says, leading Rod up to their presidential suite, moving into the next room to give them some privacy.

Anytime Stevie had been in a hotel, it was nothing less than such.

Rod sniffles as he watches Stevie stare up at him with her sad eyes. Without a word, she rushes over to him and he wraps her up in his arms, holding her like she's bound to slip away.

Another batch of tears cascade down his face as they move to sit down on the couch.

Neither one of them being able to convey their feelings through words, they stare at each other, instead.

Staring at the red and purple splotches on her face, he blows out a breath. “I'm so sorry."

"For what?" she places her hand into one of his, intertwining their fingers.

"Everything. This is all my fault—" he starts.

"Don't do that. Imagine what would've happened if you didn't do all of what you did. I'm positive that I wouldn't be here and I wouldn't be sitting here talking to you..” her voice wavers at the end of sentence.

Realizing that she's right, he pulls her back into his chest and kisses her forehead.

"Can we go home? I don't wanna be here without you." Stevie wipes her eyes.

"Yeah. Want me to go back to the house and pack a bag?"

"I'll go with you," she stands from the couch to head into the room that her parents are in, letting them know that she was leaving.

“Are you sure, sweetheart?” Her mom asks, running a hand through her damp curls, pulling them up into a bun for her like she'd asked.

“Yeah, I don't think we've got anybody else to worry about.”

“I'm so glad you're okay, baby.” Gene adds, pulling her into their millionth hug. She couldn't help the tears that fell, every time.

“I love y'all. I'm so sorry.”

“We love you. Don't be sorry, there's no reason for that.”

Unlocking her front door with Rod's spare key, Stevie steps inside and flips the light on, finding everything back in its place. Rod closes the door and leans up against it.

"Stevie!," Tyler rushes down the steps and gasps at the sight of her best friend, with tears streaming down her face.

"What happened to you?! I came home last night and the door was open, the damn drawer was on the floor— I- I tried calling you, several times. I called your parents, they never answered the phone— I thought you died!"

"Tyler, calm down, okay? I'm okay... Well, I'm not okay, but I'm alive."

"Stevie, what happened??" Tyler asks, again.

"You remember dude from the coffee shop?” Rod leans up off the door and heads towards the pair.

Tyler's heart drops. "I knew it! I kept calling you, cause I was trying to tell you who he was related to! Those tattoos were from a gang— both him and John were in it— oh God, Stevie I am so sorry I didn't call you in time."

"Hey, don't blame yourself." Rod assures.

"Yeah, it's nobody's fault, Ty. I'm just glad I'm alive, cause..... never mind."

"Look at your face," Tyler frowns, causing Stevie to frown and pull her into a hug. "He put his filthy ass hands on you."

"I did a number on him, though."

"I bet you fuckin' did, you little psycho." Tyler softly laughs, before cupping Stevie's face into her hands. "I'm so glad you're okay."

"Me too." Rod sighs.

"Thank you," Tyler and Stevie say in unison.

"On my life. Any time, seriously."

"I'm gonna stay with Rod for a while," Stevie watches the sadness flash over Tyler's eyes and squeezes her hands.

"Okay, that's fine, cause I was gonna go stay with my cousins."

"How's she doing?"

"She's fine. They're letting her out next week, so I'm gonna go keep Tia company."

"Okay, that's good. Wanna help me pack?"

"Sure." Tyler smiles, before following Stevie upstairs, while Rod moves into the living room to sit down.

"So... you killed him?" Tyler asks, pulling out the green duffle bag from Stevie's closet, tossing it on the bed.

"Yeah. He had me locked in a fucking basement and Rod had to boot the door down to get me out. I just remember shooting him, and then I blacked out and started punching and kicking him, until I either broke something or he finally just stopped fucking breathing."

"Well, it's what he deserved."

"Nah, he deserved way worse, but it'll have to do."

"What happened to your phone?"

Stevie shrugs, tossing clothes inside. "Probably smashed up, somewhere. He took my knife and my ring, too."

"What the fuck did he need your ring for?"

Stevie laughs for the first time. "I don't know. I don't even think he knew. He just wanted to torture me as much as possible, apparently."

"Men are fucking unbelievable. I'm so glad that you're okay— is all of this over?"

"Me too. And, yeah....it's finally over."

Sitting in Rod's bathtub, covered in lavender scented bubbles, Stevie pulls her knees up to her chest and lays her head down on top, while Rod comes in with a blunt.

"For you," he smiles, she puts it between her lips and he lights it for her, before placing the lid over the toilet and sitting down.

"Thank you."

"Anything for you."

Her eyes meet his for a split second, before they focus back on the water. She feels vulnerable underneath his gaze, since he's the only one that she'd completely stripped down in front of, letting him take in all of her scars and bruises.

"You're beautiful." He snaps her out of her thoughts as her eyes land back on his. "You might think they're an eyesore, but I still think you're the most beautiful girl in the world."

Her emotions get the best of her as she starts crying. He reaches out for her and she flinches, causing him to retract his hand.

"I'm sorry.”

"Don't be, baby. That was dumb of me."

"No, it wasn't. I'm just a little shaken up, right now." She puts the blunt out and hands it to him. "This might do the opposite of calming me down, now that I think about it."

"Okay," he stands up and heads into his room to place it on his dresser, before hearing Stevie's sobs and rushing back across the hall, damn near sitting on the floor to be close to her.

She covers her face with her hands as her body violently shakes. Rod makes a split second decision and reaches out to rub her back, thanking God that she didn't push him away.

"Talk to me... please."

"It's all hitting me. I could've died and nobody would've known— h-he was gonna keep me locked up in a fucking basement." She lifts her head up and stares at him.

“What if you didn't find me?"

"There's no way I wouldn't have found you. I'd search this entire world for you, Vie. I'd burn it down for you. Burn it to the fucking ground. I don't play 'bout you. You know that." He rubs his hand over her wet hair.

"I love you... I really do."

"I really, really love you, too." He kisses her forehead.

"You want me to stay?" She nods her head.

"Want me to sit right here?" She nods again, making him laugh.

"Aight, baby. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." He gets comfy on the floor, watching her swish the bubbles around the tub.

About an hour later, she finally steps out of the shower with one of Rod's towels wrapped around her hair and body. Drying her feet off, she walks across the hall and stares at the clothes he'd laid out on the bed.

She drops her towel and pulls the big t-shirt over her damp hair, before pulling her panties on and sitting down, running her hands through her curls.

Rod comes back into the room with something in his hand. He sits down beside her and shows her the ring, causing her to gasp.

"I thought it was gone! Where'd you find it?"

"It was sitting on the bathroom counter. I had to clean the blood off of it. I got your knife back, too."

"I— thank you." She lays her head on his shoulder as he slides the ring back on her finger, being mindful of her bandaged up cut.

He kisses her forehead, before wrapping his arms around her. "I'm so glad I got you back."

A week later...

"I can't stay in the house, forever." Stevie slides her feet into the pink fuzzy slippers that Rod bought her, and trudges down the stairs after him.

"That's not what I'm saying, Stevie. I just feel like you need to relax more. It's only been a week and you're already trying to go back to work and carry on like nothing happened."

"What's wrong with going back to how things were?" She asks, sitting on one of the stools around the counter.

"You're not ready. I'm not telling you that, because I want you to stay here in my bed— which, I'm not complaining about, by the way— but, you're not. You jump when I touch you. You flinch in your sleep. You still cry, when you think about it, and rightfully so cause it just happened.” He stops as she blows out a breath.

"What do you want me to do?"

"I'm not the shot caller here. I'm just here to tell you what you need to hear. If you wanna go back to work and school, I'll support you. If you choose to stay home, I'll support you. It's up to you. I just want you to be okay.”

"I wanna get out of this house. Can we go for a walk or something?" She asks, laying her chin in her palm.

"We can do whatever you want."

"Mmkay," hopping off the stool, she heads towards the door and unlocks it, looking back in his direction.

He looks back at her, dryly blinking. "What?"

"Come on."

"Stevie, you've got on slippers—"

"So?! We're taking a walk around the block and it's warm outside today. Can you just come on, please? I haven't left this house since I've been here."

"Okay, alright.," he walks out of the kitchen and heads behind her, out the door.

"Thank you— goddamn!", the sunshine blazes down on her bruised skin, burning it more in certain spots, causing her to immediately shield herself.

"You wanna go back in the house?"

"No, it's fine. I need some fresh air."

They begin walking down his driveway and down the sidewalk, passing kids on their bicycles.

"Good news," Rod starts, "you get your new phone in a couple days."

"Great, now my parents can stop blowing yours up." Stevie laughs.

"Hey, it's no problem. Speaking of parents, my mom wants to see you, but I told her that I wasn't sure if you wanted to talk about... anything, yet."

"I… I'm up for it."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm." She swiftly turns the corner and he sighs, following closely behind her.

"Alright," Viv pulls the bloody bandage off Stevie's face and frowns something awful. "Jesus, it's gonna get infected if you don't put alcohol on it."

"It's gonna burn!," Stevie whines, looking over at Rod, who just shakes his head at her.

"It'll burn for a second, but you need to kill the germs, babygirl. This cut is deep enough to do damage, if not cleaned properly."

"Fine."

Viv grabs the cotton swab and dips it into the limpid liquid, placing it on the broken skin of Stevie's cheek.

"Ow." A single tear slides down her face at the burning sensation, which she quickly wipes away.

"Sorry... sorry.," pulling the adhesive sticker off the bandage, she places it over the clean cut. "All done."

"Thank you." Stevie rubs the outer edges of her face, trying to ease the itching sensation.

"Of course, doll. Now, we've gotta get those bruises looked at."

"She can't go to a doctor," Rod interjects.

"Yeah, they'll be asking questions and I don't need that."

"Which is why I've got a friend that'll look at you for free. No questions asked.”

Rod raises an eyebrow in her direction.

"A friend?"

"Yes, a friend," she stares back at him.

"Hm." He walks into the kitchen, mumbling underneath his breath.

Stevie waits til he's out of earshot and leans in, with a wide grin on her face. "A friend, huh?"

"Uh uh, I'm not doing it with you, chile."

"Rod's not even in here anymore! You can tell me!"

"Mm-mm!," Viv gives her a tight lipped smile, before laughing, telling Stevie everything she needs to know.

"I knew it. What's his name?"

"David."

"Is he attractive?"

"Very." 

Rod comes back into the living room with a green apple, handing it to Stevie.

"Does he wanna die?"

"Rod!" Stevie rolls her eyes and swats at his hand.

"Seriously?" Viv cuts her eyes at him.

"It's a joke," he shrugs, watching them blink at him.

"Sure."

"Seriously, be nice." Stevie pleads with Rod, tugging on the bottom of his t-shirt.

Viv had invited them down to the doctor's office to get Stevie looked at and currently, Rod was having a conniption. About what, particularly? He couldn't say, but he wasn't happy.

"You said that, already. I'll be nice. I am nice." He pries her hands off his shirt and heads out into the hall, with her right on his tail.

"Yeah, until you aren't. I know that's your mom, but if she likes this guy and he's not doing anything to hurt her, shouldn't that be a good thing to you? Doesn't she deserve happiness?"

"Of course she does."

"Then, let her!"

Grabbing the keys off the counter, he grumbles to himself, causing Stevie to stare at him, puzzlingly.

"Talk to me. What's going on?"

"I don't know."

"It's gotta be something.... is it ‘cause you're not used to seeing her with somebody?"

"Maybe," he shrugs. "Or maybe, I'm just afraid of someone hurting her, again. I hated seeing her go through that."

"Ah," Stevie reaches out to rub the back of his hand, "that's understandable. Y'all should talk about that if she's actually serious about this guy. You know she values your opinion more than anything else. Just don't threaten his life, anymore." She cracks a smile.

He sucks his teeth, before rounding the counter. "Kiss my ass."

"Shut up and come on, you big baby."

"David," Viv lightly touches the top of his shoulder, before gesturing in front of her, "this is my son, Roderick and my daughter in-law, Stevie."

Stevie bursts into a small giggle fit, while Rod keeps his stoned expression up, totally missing his mom's comment.

"It's nice to meet the both of you." His deep voice could lull the fussiest babies to sleep. He reaches his hand out to Rod, who thankfully shakes it.

"Likewise." He moves to Stevie, whose face is still red from laughing. She shakes his hand, as well.

"Alright, shall we get started?" He asks.

"Yes." Rod hoists Stevie up and sits her on top of the white sheet over the exam table. He kisses her forehead, before heading out into the common area with his mom.

"Alright, let's take a look.," his gloved covered hands removed the bandage off her face, tossing it in the trash.

"Does it hurt, still?"

"It just itches." He nods, before turning her head to the other side, examining the bruises on her jaw and underneath her eye.

"Hm... they're gonna start turning yellow soon, which is an eyesore, but you can reduce the visibility of them by applying ice or even heat to them, okay?"

"Okay."

"Alright. Remove your jacket for me." Stevie pulls her hoodie over her head and sighs, staring at the dark red bruise on her right forearm.

"This one will end up probably turning more of a purple, due to how dark it already is, which'll typically take longer to fade. Ice this one, especially."

He holds her left hand up and removes the bandage, finding the place where the cut is still faintly visible. "Well, that's one less thing you have to worry about!"

They both laugh.

"Finally, some good news!"

"Are you okay?" Viv asks, staring a Rod's clenched jaw.

"Yeah I'm good," he looks in her direction. "You okay?"

"We ain't never beat around the bush, so let's not start now, okay? What's your problem?" She turns her body in the seat.

"You like this dude?" He asks, watching her face turn red.

"I do. Is that a problem?"

"No, it's just odd to me. I've never seen you with anybody and I don't want you to get too happy and then end up being heartbroken, again."

"Oh, baby. That man in there is nothing like your father."

"How are you so sure, ma?"

"I've known him for a while. I know the signs, ‘cause Rodney taught me the game. I'm not naive, like I once was. He's good people."

He sighs. "Alright. If you're happy, then I'm happy. I'm keeping my eye on him, though."

"I don't need you to do that—"

"Oh well." he cuts her off. She rolls her eyes. "Don't think I ain't hear you call Stevie your daughter- in law.”

"Was I lyin'?"

"Nah."

@blackerthings @sheabuttahwrites @thegifstories @harmshake @ghostfacekill-monger @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @supersizemeplz @soufcakmistress @abeautifulmindexposed @emjayewrites @nayaxwrites @cecereads209

[chiimeramanticore]

Part of the Band - Chapter 16 - Back to the Music Store

Chapter summary: Beach Bear and Dook return to band practice for the first time since Beach Bear's accident.

A/N:

watch how long I can write a fanfic about a band without actually writing anyone perform music bc I don't know how to write it without it sounding awkward lmao god how long's it been since I updated. feels like ages. I'm back! and I'm gonna (try to) upload two days in a row to make up for it! we have a little downtime plot-wise rn as we shift gears a little. beach bear's character arc is starting to wrap up, and that leaves us with dook to explore :] I've done a lotta thinking on the guy lately and I'm excited to see where his arc takes us (it's gonna be sadddd) that's all I got today i think! see you tomorrow (probably)! enjoy the chapter!

Chapter word count: 1,172

<- Chapter 15 - Chapter 17 ->

Read it on AO3!

"Y'know we don't have to do this," Dook says.

"I want to," Beach Bear insists. "We already missed band practice last week. I don't want us to fall behind just because of me."

Dook pushes Beach Bear's wheelchair down the street toward the music store. With his car still gone and Beach Bear himself out of commission, they had to take the bus. At least it's got a wheelchair lift, Dook figures. It was a bit of an ordeal getting Beach Bear in and out of Fatz' car the other day. With time, and physical therapy, though, things should get easier.

"What're we gonna fall behind from?" Dook mutters, more of a statement than a question. "We haven't even gotten any gigs yet."

"Yeah, 'cause we don't have a full set list yet," Beach Bear says back. "We need to write more."

"What, you wanna do all original stuff?" Dook asks. " 'S not gonna hurt us to have a few covers. 'Specially if we're just startin' out."

"I guess," Beach Bear says. "I just feel like we can do better."

The two enter the music store, heading into the back room.

"We can take it easy today, though," Dook suggests, leaving Beach Bear by the couch. "Maybe we just play around for a while."

"We always do that," Beach Bear complains. "I wanna get serious."

Dook looks at Beach Bear. He knows him when he gets antsy like this, and it's usually because of something other than the thing he's actually complaining about. But before he gets the chance to ask, the door swings open again.

"Beach Bear!"

"Mitzi!" Beach Bear's face lights up upon seeing her. Mitzi runs to him, giving him a hug. He groans, the force of her body hitting him rough on his still-healing chest. It doesn't stop him from smiling at the sight of her, though.

"I'm so excited to see you here," he says. "We've been hurting for a singer like nobody's business."

"I'm excited too! I wanna sing Monkees," she says.

Beach Bear falters a bit. "N– No, Mitzi, we're not gonna do the Monkees," he says. "We're trying to focus on original music now."

"C'mon, Beach Bear, it's her first day," Dook says. "Ease her in with some Monkees if she wants."

Beach Bear looks between their two expectant faces. "...Alright," he relents. "But just for today."

"Yes!" Mitzi bounces excitedly.

The door opens again. "Morning, everyone," Fatz says.

"Morning, Fatz," Dook says.

"Hey, Fatz," Beach Bear says.

"Hi Fatz!" Mitzi says.

"Mitzi!" Fatz reaches out for a high five, which Mitzi happily obliges. "It's good to see you here."

"We're gonna sing Monkees," she tells him.

"Yeah, it was Beach Bear's idea," Dook teases.

"Hey, now," Beach Bear complains. Then, "Dook, pass me my guitar, would ya?"

"Hi everyooone!" Looney Bird calls, following Billy Bob into the room.

"Heyyy," Dook says back in the same cadence, reaching for Beach Bear's guitar. "We're gonna do the Monkees."

"Yeah, it was my idea," Beach Bear says. Mitzi laughs.

Dook hands Beach Bear his guitar. "How've you two been?" He asks Billy Bob.

"Oh, fine," he says. "Just the usual."

"Billy Bob set the kitchen on fire last night," Looney Bird butts in.

Billy Bob laughs loudly and awkwardly, trying to brush off the comment without inviting any further question. He isn't questioned outright, but does get a questioning look from Dook and Fatz.

"...Well, gee, it wasn't the whole kitchen," Billy Bob finally says. "I left the stove goin' too high!"

"Yeah, and the stove was on fire!" Looney Bird says.

"Ain't a stove supposed to be on fire?" Fatz says. "How're you supposed to cook the food otherwise?"

"It's supposed to be a little on fire," Billy Bob adds.

"Not that much," Looney Bird says.

"Dook," Beach Bear interrupts. He's sitting with his guitar held awkwardly and uncomfortably. "Can we talk outside for a sec?"

"Yeah," Dook says. He helps Beach Bear leave his guitar on the couch and follows him outside the room.

"I can't do this," Beach Bear admits.

"Aw, don't get yourself down so quick," Dook says.

"No, I mean, I literally can't play my guitar," Beach Bear says. "It's–" He makes a vague motion with his hands, trying to illustrate a point and failing. "I can't get it to rest on my lap right 'cause of the damn wheelchair."

"Oh. Well... What if you sat on the couch instead?" Dook asks. That's where he usually sits, anyway. "I don't mind helpin' you."

"Even if I did, I..." He looks down at his right arm, still in a cast. "I'm kinda restricted right now."

"Oh," Dook says. He doesn't have an easy fix for that one.

"I should've thought about this before I started saying I wanted to do band practice again," Beach Bear says. "I don't know how I didn't realize I wouldn't be able to play music."

"Well, now you really are gettin' down on yourself," Dook says. "We can figure somethin' out." What else can he do, though? It's not like Beach Bear plays any other instruments...

"...Hey, uh, Beach Bear?" Dook starts.

"Yeah?"

"Y'know how I said no more secrets between us?"

"...Yeah?"

"I, uh, I have a confession to make," Dook says. "Last time you went out to the beach, I was doin' some cleaning, and I, ah... I found that disc you didn't want me to hear, from a while back. And I played it."

"Ah, geez," Beach Bear says, cringing. "That's embarrassing. It's not even close to finished."

"B- But," Dook continues, "I thought you were fantastic! I think you're a great singer. And if you can't play guitar, maybe..."

"...I can't," Beach Bear says.

"Why not?" Dook asks. "There's nothin' wrong with your voice!"

"It's not my voice, I..." Beach Bear glances toward the door, toward everyone waiting inside. "...I've got, like... stage fright, I guess. I can't sing on the spot, y'know? I've never been good at it. I need time to prepare."

"...Oh." Dook isn't sure what to say. This explains a lot, he realizes. "I... I guess you don't have to, then. I just thought–"

"No, I understand," Beach Bear says. "I appreciate it, really." He smiles at him. "You really liked it?"

Dook couldn't overstate how much he liked it. " 'Course I liked it."

Beach Bear seems to think on that for a moment. Then, finally, "Alright. I'll try."

"Y- You sure?"

"Yeah," he says. "What's your favorite Monkees song, Dook?"

"Uhh–" Now Dook feels on the spot. He skims through every Monkees song he can think of off the top of his head– "I guess, uh, 'Pleasant Valley Sunday,'" he finally offers.

Beach Bear grins. "Alright. I'll sing that, then."

Dook feels his face heat up, and he prays it's not visible. Beach Bear turns and re-enters the practice room without him, smiling the whole time. He's still running laps around him, even like this... Dook follows him inside. At least he gets to hear him sing again.

[jujumin-translates]

Banri Settsu | [SSR] Naughty Boys | The Great Badtz-Maru - Part 3

Taichi: Hehe, it’s time! I’m so ready for this~.

Taichi: We’re also gonna take pics together, right? So I fixed up my hair before I headed here. How does it look!? Does it look good!?

Banri: Yeah, looks great.

Banri: (Makes sense that he’s excited, he was practically dragging me to go get tickets for this thing earlier.)

Banri: (Taichi just went ahead and picked the character he wanted to meet, but I didn’t really pay attention to who it was. Who was it again…?)

Badtz-Maru: Glad you came.

Banri: Gh.

Badtz-Maru: Ah! You again!

Badtz-Maru: It hasn’t even been that long! Were you missing me already?

Taichi: Eh!? Hasn’t been that long… Ban-chan, have you already met Badtz-Maru-kun!?

Banri: Ah, well.

Taichi: Eeh! Luckyyyy~! That’s so cool that you’ve already met each other!

Banri: Wasn’t out of my own will…

Badtz-Maru: So you’re Ban-chan?

Banri: I’m Banri Settsu. That’s just a nickname.

Taichi: I’m Taichi Nanao! Nice to meet you!

Badtz-Maru: Banri and Taichi, huh. I’ll remember that.

Taichi: Hehe! You’re so cute and cool, Badtz-Maru-kun~.

Badtz-Maru: You know, you’re not so bad. Alright, I’ll teach you some of my tricks then.

Taichi: Really!? Hell yeah!

Badtz-Maru: Not telling Banri though. Sucks for you.

Banri: Hah?

Badtz-Maru: What!? You wanna know that badly~? I guess I’ll have to tell you then, Banri.

Banri: Damn, you’re annoying as hell…

Taichi: By the way, this room is just as cool as you are, Badtz-Maru-kun! You’ve got a lotta instruments.

Banri: Yeah, kinda reminds me of our ninth play.

Badtz-Maru: Wait, do you also play instruments, Taichi and Banri?

Banri: For the play we did.

Taichi: Ban-chan and I were the lead and co-lead in a play about a band!

Badtz-Maru: A play… So you guys are actors?

Taichi: Yeah!

Banri: You bet.

Badtz-Maru: Not bad. A play about a band sounds pretty interesting.

Badtz-Maru: I’m part of a band. Our unit is called “Hapidanbui”.

Badtz-Maru: I’m the vocalist, of course!

Banri: Huh, you sure do a lot.

Taichi: Yeah, yeah, Hapidanbui always takes on so many different challenges. You guys are so cool~.

Taichi: Man, I wanna play in a band with you someday, Badtz-Maru-kun!

Badtz-Maru: I like that idea! I’m sure Hapidanbui would love to have you play too!

Taichi: Yeah, yeah!

Badtz-Maru: Well, what about you, Banri?

Banri: I ain’t opposin’. I’m a little interested in seeing how you sing.

Badtz-Maru: I’m interested in hearing you too, Banri.

Banri: Y’know, the more we talk, the more you’re startin’ to grow on me.

Badtz-Maru: Fufufu! Seems like we’re more similar than we thought!

Banri: Aight, first things first, let’s get a pic together today.

Badtz-Maru: Of course! I call taking the middle!

Banri: Sure thing.

Taichi: Yay! Everyone pose with your best smile ♪ Say “Puro”!

*Camera clicks*

[ ⇠ Previous Part ]