#RJ+OC

[junglekarmapippa]

Another RJ/OC story that ended right before the Good Part(c) If you know what I mean...

(These are samples from a 13992 words long document)

(...)

He didn't own a computer, so he went to the library to write the email. He explained the case briefly, making sure he mentioned he didn't think his business could survive another month. He signed with his full name, Robert James, and after checking it for typos, he sent it. And he thought he'd forget about it because he had a lot to keep him busy, between working at the restaurant, acting like everything was alright and still training with Dom, who was now trying to reach the level of master too; but he didn't have enough time to forget.

A mere two days later, a young woman, about RJ's age, walked into the restaurant, in a nicely cut pair of business pants and a light pink silk blouse that had an elegant bow tied around her long neck, with what seemed to be a very expensive handbag hanging from her elbow and a last generation smartphone in her hand. She didn't look at all like the people who usually visited Jungle Karma Pizza and, because of that, Dom approached her as soon as he saw her.

"Can I help you?" He asked, flashing a smile.

"Good afternoon, I'm looking for..." She glanced at the phone. "Robert."

 "Please, take a seat," Dom invited the woman, pulling a chair from a nearby table for her. He wondered who she was, because he had never heard anyone call RJ 'Robert', not even his dad. "Who should I say is looking for him?"

"Beatrice Lancaster," she answered, smiling too.

Dom disappeared behind the kitchen door and was back after a minute. "He'll be right out," he told her and she smiled politely again. She sat very straight, with her shoulders thrown backwards and her neck elongated gracefully, but she made the whole position look effortless, like she had sat like that her whole life. "Can I offer you something to drink, while he comes out?"

"A soda would be nice," she answered in a sweet but slightly hoarse voice. "Black, full sugar, with ice." She put her handbag on her lap as Dom walked away to get her drink.

In the kitchen, RJ washed his hands and straightened his jacket, brushing off as much flour as he could. He hadn't been expecting the CEO herself to show up at his restaurant when he wrote the email. He took a deep breath and pushed the door, only to stop dead on his way out.

Beatrice Lancaster was gorgeous, that was the only thought that filled his mind when he saw her.

She sat calmly at her table, poised and elegant. She was wearing a bare minimum of makeup because she didn't need it. Her lips closed into an adorable pout and her eyes were round and bright, and a hazel color RJ had never seen before. She was a strawberry blonde, and her hair was neatly held behind her head in a braid. RJ stared at her, suddenly aware of how scruffy he was, covered in flour and with a two-day stubble, with his wild hair barely held back by his zebra-print hat. He wondered why he felt so insecure, it was very unlike him.

On his way back to Beatrice's table, Dom bumped against him and that pulled him out of that bizarre state of mind. He took a deep, cleansing breath and walked over to the table, where Beatrice was elegantly drinking her soda with a straw.

"Miss Lancaster?"

She looked up and seemed stunned at the sight of him, which made him blush slightly. She smiled, blushing in return, and nodded. "You must be Robert."

"Please, call me RJ," he sat down across from her. "I wasn't expecting such a quick response."

"I prioritize the cases by urgency," she said after another sip of her drink. "It's little use if I show up too little too late."

She was looking at his face like she was trying to commit it to memory, which made RJ feel uneasy. "I don't really have an office but we can talk upstairs."

"No problem," she said, leaving the half drunk glass of soda on the table, as she raised her left hand, letting her handbag slide elegantly to her elbow.

"You can bring your drink, if you want to finish it," RJ told her. Then he closed his eyes and shook his head, mentally telling himself off for being rude, and moved to take the glass from the table and carry it for her.

"Thank you."

"Please, follow me," he indicated, opening the door to the kitchen and letting her go through. She stood at the base of the staircase and looked at the kitchen, where Casey and Lily were finishing some pizzas and talking. RJ noticed Beatrice's eyes scanning the space and he let the door close behind him. "This way," he indicated, walking up the stairs, he could hear the soft clicking of her heels against the steps as she walked behind him.

When they got to the loft, RJ waited for her at the top of the stairs and she looked around the space, smiling. "What a lovely loft," she commented. "It is very eclectic, but it works."

RJ smiled at her comment but dismissed it as her trying to be polite. Rich people made him nervous and now more than ever he was sure the services of Beatrice Lancaster were out of his budget.

"Please, take a seat," he offered, pointing at the couch by the railing of the upper level. "I'll be right back," he said, rushing into his bedroom to change out of his chef jacket and get the paperwork he had. He caught his reflection on the mirror before he left the room after changing and brushed his hair quickly.

Rich people made him nervous.

And he was nervous because of that, not because she was gorgeous.

(...)

. "Miss Lancaster," he began, trying to find that courage of the wolf he claimed to have and look at her. "First, we need to talk about your pay. I'm not sure if I can afford an appraisal."

"Appraisal?" She asked. That made him look at her, worried. "Sorry, it's just your email made it seem like you wanted to keep your restaurant, not that you were interested in selling it."

"I don't want to sell it, this restaurant is my life, it's everything I've ever wanted to do, it's my dream. I don't want to see it fail, I don't want to lose it." He said all of this very rapidly and before he could stop himself.

To his surprise, she put her slim hand on his. "Then what you want is an assessment."

"Right, well, I'm not sure I can afford that either."

"You can because assessments are free," she told him, her hand moving for the stack of papers again.

"Really?"

"Yes, the point is to help the business succeed, not to give it a final blow." She started scanning the papers RJ had let go of without even noticing and he studied her face, trying to get a sense of how bad things looked for her. She started to set some papers aside and got through the whole pile very quickly. She handed the papers she didn't need back to RJ, keeping the ones she had set aside. While she looked at those more carefully, she asked: "So, what exactly is the problem? Are you stuck at drawing even every month? Or are you actually losing money? I see you haven't missed any payment to the bank or your staff," she shuffled the papers quickly and then looked at him. "Are you stuck not making profit?"

He shook his head. "I'm losing money," he said. "I've been paying the bank with my salary."

"You assigned yourself a salary?"

She sounded impressed and RJ felt strangely pleased. "I read that was a wise thing to do."

"It is, well done," she commented, giving him a smile. "But giving up your salary to pay debts is indeed loss. How are you with the providers?"

"I am in debt with some of them, so we've been getting the most expensive ingredients from the supermarket, in an as-needed basis," he told her.

"Well, the problem can't be lack of customers, you have good sales," she said, looking at another paper. "Unless you, let's say, flourished these numbers a little?"

"They are one-hundred-percent honest," he said with a grandiose gesture that ended with his hands on his heart.

"Well, you had a relatively good amount of clients downstairs, for the time of the day," she looked at him. "Have you done any publicity?"

"Does the sign on the sidewalk count?"

 "How have you amassed such a clientele without publicity?" She asked, stunned.

"Word of mouth, mostly. The pizza is good and I guess the prices are reasonable, word got around."

"Word of mouth," she repeated softly, like she couldn't believe it. "The pizza must be better than just good, it must be unlike anything anyone has ever tried." He blushed under his stubble, because she was staring at his face again, very intensely.

"Well, I'm an actual chef, you know, I don't just wear the jacket," he said with a smile. "And we have what we call the 'After-school rush'. It's not really a rush, but we set up a pizza bar so kids can buy the cheapest pizzas by the slice, instead of the whole pie, and we have a selection of drinks for them, you know? They come for the arcade games and to hang out and they can afford a slice of pizza and a drink with their pocket money. The kids then bring their parents to eat here, the parents bring co-workers..."

She looked very impressed. "That is actually a very brilliant idea," she looked down at the papers again. "I see a lot of losses written under 'incident', what kind of incidents are we talking about?"

"You know, the occasional burnt pizza and the like," he dismissed.

"Have these incidents involved clients or are they mostly in the kitchen?"

"Some of them have involved clients," he admitted with a worried grimace.

She looked at the figures on the paper. "These are really high figures, RJ, how bad were these incidents? How many clients were involved?"

"Well, there was a case of the cheese shakers being filled with salt during the lunch rush, that costed us an entire restaurant worth of pizza that went to the garbage..."

"That's terrible!"

"And a similar one involving hot chili pepper..."

"Oh, dear..."

"And there was the one time the employee in charge of restocking the kitchen left the refrigerator open all night," he had been pointing at the amounts on the paper as he recalled the incidents. "The rest aren't quite as bad, the occasional spilled bag of flour or knocked over bowl of sauce." He smiled, trying to show her he gave very little importance to these incidents, but she was alarmed.

"Why didn't you deduct these loses from the salaries of the employees responsible?" She asked.

"I didn't have the heart to do it," he said, avoiding eye contact. "They didn't do it on purpose and it's not like their pay is that high to begin with."

"Still, if they don't see consequence to their inattention, they won't start paying attention." He looked at the floor and swallowed hard, giving the general impression of a puppy  who was being told off. "RJ, the business is not theirs. I'm not saying they don't care but they may not see the magnitude of their mistake if they don't see the consequence."

"It's really not their fault--"

"This isn't about punishing them, RJ. It's about showing them how badly they can affect the business in the long run," her voice was soft when she said this and he dared to glance in her direction, only to find she wasn't angry. She put her finger on another figure. "Why are your utility bills so high? Do you pay the loft's utilities along with the restaurant's?"

"No, they are separate bills."

"Then why are they so high?"

He shrugged. She glanced at him and saw he was honest when he expressed his ignorance on the matter.

She kept checking the papers she had set aside and asking him questions and he kept answering to the best of his knowledge. Finally, she gave him the papers back and turned slightly, so she was facing him more directly.

She clasped her hands together and put them on her knees. "One last question, is there anything you are not willing to do to save Jungle Karma Pizza?"

He almost said he'd do anything but remembered the conversation about the incidents. "Fire my staff."

"They are probably the number one cause of your loses, RJ," she said bluntly.

"They are kids," he defended. "And they do the best they can, they are barely enough sometimes. They try very hard, they have been getting better..."

"And they are your friends," it sounded like an accusation to RJ, but her voice was as soft as before.

"Let's say I feel responsible for them. Four of them live here with me."

She looked at his face for a couple of seconds and he tried to keep it as neutral as he could. Finally, she seemed to decide he wasn't going to give in on the matter. "Fine, I guess it's nothing Gloria can't fix," she said.

"Who's Gloria?"

"A friend of mine. She trains restaurant staff." She stared at his face again and RJ stared back, noticing how long her lashes were and that she had freckles. Before he could stop himself, he was wondering if she had freckles in other parts of her body... like her shoulders or her back. He saw her eyes move down his body from his face and felt very exposed, as if he was naked. "That's an oddly placed tattoo," she commented out of nowhere. He followed her eyes and saw that she was looking at his master stripes, clearly visible, because he was wearing a t-shirt.

"I put it there so I could see it all the time," he lied.

She touched it with the tips of her long fingers and he held his breath as she softly ran them along the outline. "This is very sensitive skin, this must have hurt so much," she looked at his face and saw he was blushing. She removed her hand quickly. "Sorry, that was very inappropriate."

"It's alright."

She stood up, looking flustered for a moment. "Can you give me a tour of the restaurant? Introduce me to the employees?"

(...)

"What do you think?" He asked.

"Nothing that can't be fixed," she said.

"Really?"

She looked at him fixedly for a moment and opened and shut her mouth a couple of times, before asking: "Can we go somewhere private to talk?"

He could sense there was something wrong and nodded. "Can you guys give me and Beatrice some time upstairs?" The others all mumbled their agreement while they kept doing their last chores of the day, and the two went upstairs.

Beatrice sat on a stool by the kitchenette counter and RJ stood across from her, leaning into the counter. She looked like she didn't know how to tell him what she had to say.

"Just tell me," he said sadly, his gaze on the table. "Whatever it is, just tell me."

"We can save it," she started. "I think it deserves saving. The ambiance is really fun, the menu is interesting and the food is great. The service is nowhere near as bad as I thought it would be. It's a quirky little place and it is very charming. The prices are reasonable and the quality is top notch."

"And the bad news is...?"

"It's not a matter of operations, RJ. Jungle Karma Pizza is not going down because you are doing something wrong, or because it has no clients. It's going down because it has too many expenses. And it needs some optimization." He looked up at her, almost in tears. He knew he couldn't possibly afford whatever it was. "The lighting needs some work, it's not optimal for a restaurant, the kitchen needs a full overhaul, those old ovens are very inefficient and are probably what's making your utility bills so high, you could use the yard more often if it had a roof, you could use some changes on the flatware, the glasses don't match anything else in the restaurant and have to be replaced, a wi-fi service would be very welcomed by customers and the menu needs updating."

"Well, I could update the menu for the last month of operations and go out with a bang," he whispered.

She put her hand on his. "There's still hope."

"Beatrice, I really appreciate everything you have done for me, just coming here and assessing the place," his voice broke slightly so he swallowed hard and took a breath. "But I can't afford any of those things. I can't save it."

"I know you can't afford those things, RJ, that's why you wrote to me. What you need is an injection of capital."

"I can't request another loan, I wouldn't get it, and even if I did, I wouldn't be able to pay for it."

"There is another option," she stopped talking and looked at his face, gauging his feelings from that. He looked like he didn't want to get his hopes too high. "How open would you be to the idea of a partner?"

"A partner?"

"Yes, a business partner. Someone who invests some money on the restaurant and gets some participation," he made a face that showed he didn't like that idea and she quickly added: "Business participation, RJ, not actual, operational participation. This person would only get some of the revenue, once it starts coming, and you would still have the final say in the decisions."

He gave the idea some thought.  Then he shook his head. "It's not that I don't want to, Beatrice, I wouldn't mind. But, as much as I love it and care about it, Jungle Karma Pizza is a hole in the wall that almost nobody has heard of and you said it yourself, it's unlike anything else, it's weird and tacky--"

"I think it's interesting and charming. And I love that it is unlike anything else out there because just the novelty could bring in people in droves, with a little publicity. I already told you all the pros I find to the place."

"Well, if you could repeat those to any potential investors and keep them from actually coming--"

"RJ, I said we could save it."

"With an investor. Where am I going to get an investor?" He looked desperate now. "I have absolutely no reputation of value, no backing, nobody to vouch for me. The place is a hard sell on its own."

"Well, I like you," she told him point blank. "I have seen how passionate you are about your restaurant and that is another reason to rescue it."

"Would you vouch for me to this mystical investor?"

"I don't need to vouch for you, or for Jungle Karma Pizza, to anyone. RJ, you're not listening to me," she took one of his hands in hers, in a very intimate move that made RJ forget he had only seen her twice in his life. "This 'mystical investor' is not someone else, it's me."

"You?"

"Yes," she looked down at their hands and immediately let go of his hand, blushing. "I have some money set aside for investments and I'd like to invest in Jungle Karma Pizza," she tried to sound nonchalant and business-like, despite being obviously flustered about taking his hand. "It's better to lead by example and it would be great for my business if I could show my investing side that I trust my model so much I am willing to put my own money where my mouth is."

"You want to save my restaurant?" He asked, just to make sure.

"Yes. I think it's totally worth it."

RJ's face lit up like a Christmas tree and he smiled widely at her, moving around the counter to hug her tightly. The hug lasted a bit too long and when they let go, they were both blushing slightly.

"Sorry, I got wrapped up in my excitement," he mumbled.

"It's alright, it's not the first enthusiastic hug I've gotten since I started this business."

He hoped his face showed how elated he was that his restaurant was being rescued by this beautiful creature in front of him, and he thought she looked even more beautiful now, and she smiled happily at his excitement.

(...)

The following days went by with Beatrice showing up almost every day with someone new.

She introduced the staff to her friend Gloria, who would train them so they could be more efficient both in the kitchen and waiting tables.

She brought Kevin, who designed high-efficiency restaurant kitchens, the next day, to take a look and give her an estimate of what needed to be done.

Then she brought Arthur, the interior designer, who almost fainted when he saw the interior of the restaurant and Beatrice had to repeat constantly that she only needed him to improve the illumination.

She brought samples of plates and glasses for them to see and pick from; and RJ got used to seeing her around the restaurant, in her elegant business clothes, with her almost orange hair always picked up elegantly, always wearing heels.

After a few days of that, she showed up right after closing time, in a sheer pink jumpsuit that wrapped over her black ballet maillot and wearing flats and when RJ saw her, he let out a sigh of wonder, like he had never seen anyone that beautiful.

"Sorry for the hour but I just got out of ballet rehearsals," she told him as she stepped into the restaurant holding a thick folder. He looked at the floor as she walked by, but he looked up when she stopped moving completely. "Is everything alright?"

'I think I'm in love with you', RJ thought but nodded.

She handed him the folder. "We have the numbers."

The others were already upstairs, RJ had stayed behind in the kitchen, thinking of ways to update the menu when she had called to say she was coming over, so instead of inviting her upstairs, he pointed at one of the booths. She walked to it and sat down, but it seemed to RJ she had glided to it like the mystical creature she was in his eyes; he sat across from her and opened the folder on the table.

The first piece of paper was a sort of summary, and RJ's eyes moved down from line to line, each amount he read making him go paler. Then he got to the total and swallowed hard. It was a very high figure.

"That's..." He stammered. "that's a lot of money." He glanced up, worried she might be about to tell him she couldn't afford it but instead she laughed, which caught him off guard.

"It's not that much," she dismissed. "I think I spent more on a shopping spree once." He widened his eyes and furrowed his brow at the same time, which made her laugh again. "I wish I could say I was joking."

"That's a lot of clothes..."

"It was very few, very expensive clothes, actually."

"Right," RJ stuttered, trying to wrap his head around the concept of having enough money to spend that much of it on expensive clothes.

"I calculated how much of your raw annual income it adds up to and you weren't that far off, it's a little over forty percent." He was clearly paying attention so she continued. "I should get around that much participation but that would come with a lot of decision making power over this place." He nodded slowly, accepting his options were letting her have a say in how the restaurant was run or losing the restaurant completely. "And quite frankly, I don't want that. I don't have any interest in telling you how to run your restaurant, you know how it works much better than I do and I am a very busy woman as it is. So I'll take ten."

"Ten what?" He was confused by the sharp turn her speech had taken.

"Ten percent of the restaurant, for my investment."

"That... doesn't sound very fair to you," he objected.

She smiled. "Like I said, with more shares come more responsibilities and I don't want them. I'm fine with ten, I trust you and I don't need the money."

"Why don't you take twenty-five percent and no say in the matters of the restaurant?" he offered with a smirk.

"Because that would be exploiting you."

"You are putting all this money into this."

"And you are doing all the work," she reminded him. "You are a terrible negotiator, you are supposed to push for me to have less participation, not more."

"I want you to have what is fair."

"I am asking for what is fair," she leaned forward and casually stroked back a strand of his hair. "You will be doing all the work."

"How about fifteen?" He insisted.

She sat back and looked at him like she had never seen anyone like him before. And he realized what he must look like to her, with his wrinkled chef jacket, his zebra-print pants, his mane of wild hair and his stubble. He probably looked like the least reliable business partner ever.

She, on the other hand, looked like a princess in her sheer jumpsuit and her hair neatly up in a bun, sitting graciously straight like that was the only way to sit and her face completely bare of makeup for the first time since he had met her. He noticed she had a lot more freckles than he had originally thought and he wondered again if she had freckles anywhere else. His eyes followed the line from her eyes down her face, her neck and her chest... he stopped before he reached her breasts and darted his eyes back to her face.

"I have an idea," she started after a minute of looking at him in silence. "How about I get my ten percent and a monthly dinner for six months?"

He was stunned by the offer. "Sorry, a monthly dinner for six months?"

"Yes. Ten percent of the profit and we have dinner together once a month for sixth months, so you can update me on how the restaurant is doing."

He looked at her with an amused expression. "Here I was thinking you couldn't wait to get rid of me."

"Why would I want to get rid of you?"

"I suppose I'm not the most attractive business partner."

"That doesn't mean you're not attractive." This time, he really was stunned and had nothing to answer. She looked at him with a smirk and then shrugged. "Just saying. I'm sure I'm not the first person to notice."

'You are the first person to notice in a while', RJ thought.

"I'm flattered," he whispered, his eyes fixed on the table. It was probably nothing more than just another polite compliment, so he chose to not make much of it and let her get away with it.

"Besides, I think you would make a great partner for a lot of things."

This time he was almost sure she was baiting him. He looked up at her face and took the bait: "Really? Like what?"

"Like dinning, dancing, getting business done with," she enumerated, her hazel eyes on his blue ones.

"That doesn't sound like a lot of things," he refuted.

"I guess that depends on what kind of business you are thinking about."

RJ smiled and ran his tongue briefly over his lips. "Well, I can dance."

"I'm sure you'd make a great partner for a Saturday evening," she commented. "I mean, you can cook something and we can drink some wine, talk about things..."

"What kind of things?"

"The things we like, the things we don't like, you know, everything we need to know to make this partnership more..." She pretended to look for the right word and used the tip of her index finger to caress his hand briefly. "Pleasurable."

The talk was getting a little too intense for RJ, since he was very out of practice with flirting, and she was his new business partner, so he decided to pull back.

"Let's get back to business," he suggested, pointing at the folder.

"When did we deviate from business?" She asked.

"I seriously hope this is not how you normally conduct business," he whispered.

"Only with the handsome pizza chefs," she whispered back. He tried to say something but choked on his words when he looked at her face and saw the fire in her eyes. "My offer is still on the table."

"I will insist on giving you fifteen," he said.

"But I want ten and my six dinners."

"Just so we are clear, these would be business dinners, right?"

"Of course," she said. He nodded and took a relieved breath, and then she added: "For a while."

"Sorry, for a while?"

"Well, it's not going to take us an entire dinner to catch up on the business."

"And what would we do with the extra time?"

"I am getting a little disappointed, RJ," She told him. "You didn't strike me as the kind who had to have everything planned ahead."

"I'm not," he looked insulted. "I like to go with the flow."

"Except when it comes to have dinner with me, apparently."

"It's not that."

"Then what is it?"

"I just..." He stopped because he didn't want to admit he was intimidated by her flirting. "I'm not entirely sure of what is going on in this conversation," He blurted out, feeling himself backed against a mental wall.

She laughed happily and he couldn't help but laugh with her, relaxing. "Fine. Business dinners it is, I am willing to give you that. Ten percent and six business dinners. Deal?" She said, offering her hand.

He shook it, feeling electricity running through his body when he touched her. "Deal."

(...)

Now RJ knew what part of him had been dormant for a long time had awoken when he had seen Beatrice. He had been a master and a boss for so long, he had been so busy saving the world and looking  after his students that he hadn't as much as thought about romance or sex in the last two, or maybe three, years. She was the first person in a long time who saw him as a handsome man, not as a master or as the funny chef from the pizza parlor, she saw him as an attractive man and RJ had forgotten what that felt like: being flirted with, being stared at, being seen as a potential sexual partner.

And the fact Beatrice was a beautiful woman really helped. And she really was gorgeous, her body, from what he had been able to see, was very fit, her legs - of which he had seen a lot of because she had made sure to wear increasingly shorter dresses each time she went to the restaurant- were toned and long and her arms were slim but not too thin. Her bottom was really beautifully shaped -the dresses had gotten increasingly tighter too- and she had a small frame, with a pretty waist and nice hips. Her face was like a dream, her big hazel eyes had long lashes and she had a small button nose that fit very well with her mouth, which had a natural pout.

Up until that moment, RJ hadn't noticed how much attention he had been paying to Beatrice's looks. He had been too wrapped up on her personality: she was strong-willed and direct, but she had a sweetness to her that made her really likeable and she obviously had a mischievous streak. She had been complimenting his cooking, his loft, his restaurant, his voice and his smile in increasingly risqué comments. She made him blush every time and it was obvious to RJ she took some sort of pleasure from it. He didn't mind, though, because he loved seeing her mischievous smirk and her eyes sparkle with repressed laughter each time he blushed.

He went to bed that night with a smile and he was glad there was nobody around to see his face at that moment. He knew he looked like a love-struck fool.

(...)

At the yard door, Mr. Rogers bid the other two a good day and left in his own car. Beatrice hung back, RJ assumed because she wanted to talk to him without the lawyer present. They stood side by side right outside the door, both looking towards the car waiting for her.

"You, hmm, clean up nicely," she told him, throwing a sideways glance at him.

"Thanks."

"You didn't shave, though."

"I like my beard."

"I like your beard too. Very much. I think it gives you character."

He chuckled and she smiled. "Nobody has ever given my facial hair such deep thought."

"Oh, I have given your facial hair plenty of thought," she said mysteriously.

"Is that so?"

"Yes," she glanced at him. "I have given you plenty of thought."

"I must admit, I have given you plenty of thought too," he told her, leaning sideways towards her.

"Have you, now?" She said turning her face to him.

"Yes," he had adopted his most nonchalant attitude and she seemed to be loving it. "I have been thinking you should change dry-cleaners, for example."

She smiled and he saw her run her tongue briefly over her lower lip. She took the bait anyway, probably as willingly as he had taken hers before. "And why should I change dry-cleaners?"

"I think they are shrinking your dresses," he said with a voice full of fake concern. "They keep getting shorter and tighter."

"I didn't take you for the kind of man who would pay such attention to dresses."

"I pay attention to everything."

She stared into his eyes intensely and RJ wished he could just lean in and steal a kiss but he knew he shouldn't. He held himself back and she let out a sigh, looking disappointed. "Well, then, I'll see you tomorrow for the final signing. You don't have to dress up if you don't want to, although it is a really nice change."

"I'll put on my other shirt tomorrow."

"I'll start calling in the crews, so they can finish the work as quickly as possible. We don't want to keep the place shut down for too long. I think about ten days should be enough."

"There is no contractor in the world who will finish anything in less than three weeks. Even if it's just painting a wall."

"You obviously haven't seen me dealing with contractors."

"Wait a second," he held up his hands in front of him for emphasis. "See you dealing with contractors? Why would you deal with the contractors?"

"Because you will obviously let them take more than three weeks and go overbudget," she replied and started to walk towards the car that was waiting for her. "I'll see you tomorrow, RJ."

The car drove off and RJ watched it turn at the corner, thinking he should have taken that kiss when he had the chance, because there had been something different in her demeanor when she said goodbye.

(...)

"Alright, guys, I have something to tell you," he started as his employees took off caps and aprons and sat around the dining area of the restaurant. "It's about Beatrice."

"If you're  going to tell us you have a crush on her, don't bother, we already know," Dom said making everybody laugh.

RJ held up his hand to shut them up. "She is a very beautiful woman and, whether you believe it or not, I actually am a man who is not immune to beautiful women. Besides, she did something really nice for me."

"Yes, compliment your eyes, your beard, your hair..." Fran mocked, which caused more laughter.

"You've been spending too much time with Dom," RJ told Fran. "And I am not immune to compliments, either."

"She obviously likes you too, that's all we're saying," Lily said with a shrug.

"That is very nice to know but it's not why we are here." He looked at each of them in turn and they stopped laughing to listen. "Beatrice came here because I emailed her. I emailed her because I needed her help." He inhaled deeply and looked at the floor, although he could feel the stare of his staff on him as he said: "Jungle Karma Pizza was going down, fast. We wouldn't have lasted another month without Beatrice's help." Being well-versed in the Swoop technique, he heard all five of his employees inhale at the same time to berate him and raised both of his hands to keep them quiet and looked up at them. "There was nothing you could have done and we are fine now, thanks to Beatrice's timely assistance."

"How are we fine now? We haven't done anything differently!" Casey all but yelled.

"Beatrice invested in the restaurant, she will pay our debts and some changes that need to be done," RJ explained calmly.

"She invested in the restaurant?" Dom asked.

"Changes?" Fran asked, her face looking fearful. "RJ, you didn't sell her the restaurant, did you?"

RJ looked at Fran like she was a raving lunatic. "Of course I didn't sell her the restaurant," he told her. "Well, not all of the restaurant--"

"Just enough of it for her to have a say in changes that need to be done?" Dom asked, remembering the flatware and glasses samples.

"Guys, Beatrice is not the enemy here," RJ reassured them. "She helps companies that are going down by pointing out what's wrong and suggesting the necessary adjustments so they can pull through. JKP needed an injection of capital and she decided to make the investment herself. She literally saved this restaurant for me, she is a very nice person who did something very nice for me and she also happens to be very beautiful, so if you want to mock me for liking her, go ahead, I won't stop you."

He finished his speech but there was no laughter or mocking. Everybody seemed to be processing the information about the restaurant.

"RJ," Casey started, looking around at the others before focusing on his former master. "Was the restaurant going down because of us?"

RJ swallowed hard and licked his lips nervously.

"That woman said we have to 'train' with her friend, didn't she?" Fran asked the others and they nodded.

"She has a name," RJ whispered.

"Well?" Casey demanded. "Was it?"

RJ couldn't say it out loud, so he just nodded.

"Says who?" Fran asked, crossing her arms. "That woman?"

RJ finally found his voice: "No, Fran, says every single monthly report since I hired you all," he spat. He realized way too late what he had said and closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "There were a lot of things, guys, a lot of problems, the battle against Dai Shi and its Rin Shi, the bills were too high... the restaurant was going down because I was... because I am a terrible boss and a terrible owner."

Lily approached him and put her hand on his shoulder. "You're not a terrible boss, RJ, there was a lot happening that was not in your hands."

"And I guess we have been pretty bad employees too," Theo admitted. RJ shook his head, looking sad.

"Did she want to fire us?" Fran asked him. He didn't answer her but when he looked away from her, she knew what she had to know. "She did, didn't she?"

"Fran, Beatrice is not the evil step-mother, coming in to send you all away to a boarding school," RJ told her. "She is trying to help and she asked if there was anything I wasn't willing to do to save the restaurant. I said I wasn't willing to fire you. She didn't insist on the matter and offered the solution of you training with her friend."

Fran didn't look very convinced but then Dom came to RJ's rescue: "Fran, are you upset because she is making changes to the restaurant or because RJ has a crush on her?"

Fran looked at him, livid in anger. "That woman is coming here to change everything and you think I am jealous?! I only want what's best for RJ!"

"And she's not it?" Dom asked.

"Damn right she's not!!" Fran refuted, crossing her arms.

"Says who?"

"Says me!" Fran declared, pointing at herself in the chest. "I know RJ well and I know she is no good for him!"

"Fran!" RJ called her. "I really thank you for your concern but this isn't about me having a crush on anyone. This is about doing what's best for the restaurant and doing business with Beatrice was my only option. The changes won't be too dramatic and they won't take a long time."

"Just promise me she won't turn JKP into some fancy Italian restaurant," Fran begged.

"She actually likes it very much, just the way it is," he told her. "Besides, I wouldn't want to save JKP by turning it into something it's not. However, the kitchen does need an overhaul and something will be done with the lighting and she suggested I gave you all vacation time while the work is finished. I will be here to make sure nothing too drastic is done." He looked at Casey, Theo and Lily. "I thought perhaps you three would like to take this time to start the next level of your Pai Zhua training."

"Next level?" Theo laughed off. "We're already masters!"

"And that brings a whole new world of things to learn, Theo," RJ said with his typical grandiose hand gesture. "Dom can take this time to train with Master Swoop, he can help you with your focus and your wandering mind." Dom nodded in agreement.

"What about me?" Fran asked. "What am I supposed to do?"

RJ looked at her and smiled tenderly. Poor Fran, always very close, but never really in. "You can rest your hard working feet, prop them up and catch up with your reading."

"Wow, you really want us out of the way, don't you?" She said resentfully.

"Fran, come on, you know it's nothing like that. It could be dangerous to be around this place with the crew redoing the kitchen and all that," RJ refuted. He thought it was really sweet of her to be this territorial about him and his restaurant and that was the kind of thing that made him love her so much. "I promise you I won't marry Beatrice before you come back from boarding school," he said, putting his hand on his chest. This made everybody else laugh and he was glad the mood was lightened. Fran crossed her arms and she still looked mad, so he moved to her and held her tightly. "You have nothing to worry about, I promise."

"Fine," Fran said at last. "How long do we have to stay away?"

"She estimates ten days," RJ said, rolling his eyes. "I know it won't be less than three weeks, but since these are people she knows better than I do, let's go with her estimate and if more time is needed, I'll let you know."

"Will you be fine here all by yourself?" Lily asked.

RJ smiled. "I lived alone in the loft for a year before you guys moved in. I think I can manage ten days."

(...)

Beatrice set them up and made her way to the door in a hurry. RJ followed her and caught her right before she left the yard. "Hey, Beatrice, is everything alright?"

"Yes, why?"

"Well, you seem..." he struggled to find the word. "Upset. Have I done anything to offend you?"

She shook her head and smiled politely. "Of course not."

"It's just the other night," he took a deep breath to calm down. "The other night something was happening and then, after you brought Mr. Rogers the first time, you sort of... changed your attitude."

She looked at the floor. "I was being very inappropriate, RJ," she told him. "I got too wrapped up on your looks and I forgot you are a business partner. I overstepped my boundaries, I'm sorry."

'You can trample all over your boundaries with me, I don't mind,' he thought.

"It's alright, Beatrice. I just wanted to make sure we were fine."

"We are, don't worry," she said with a smile that RJ thought looked rather sad. "I have a very busy day ahead of me, I have to go. I'll come back around six, to see what was done today. Arthur will come by later to speak with Pete about the lights, don't let him talk you into making any other changes because if you do he will turn your restaurant inside out," she warned.

He nodded. "Understood. I'll see you around six then," he told her. She smiled sadly again and before he could stop himself he said: "I wasn't really bothered by your behavior, by the way. I thought it was fun." She didn't say anything but her eyes sparkled when he smiled at her.

RJ thought the morning had been long but when Arthur arrived at three in the afternoon and tried to suggest they redid the upholstery of the booths, he knew he was in for a long afternoon too. He made himself sure to follow Beatrice's advice and block every attempt Arthur made to suggest other changes for the restaurant and by the time he was done talking to Pete about the lights and left, RJ was under the impression Arthur had an entire vision of what Jungle Karma Pizza should look like.

He was bent down picking up a napkin from the floor when he heard Beatrice say behind him: "Isn't this a sight for sore eyes?"

He tried hard not to smile and remained bent down one second longer than necessary. "How was your day?" He asked her, standing up and turning to face her.

"Busy and boring, like most of them," she said. She had her mischievous smile and said: "That kung fu thing is really working out for you."

"Well, it's not ballet but it gets the job done," he played back.

"How did it go with the crew?" She asked, putting her handbag on a table.

"Pete is great, he had some of his men over during the day. Kevin was great too, he showed me the ovens he wants to install and he and Pete said they think the change can be done without changing the whole look of the kitchen, which is something I appreciate," he told her, his hands moving in front of him wildly.

"Did Arthur stop by?"

He grimaced. "Yes. He seems to have an entire vision of what the restaurant should look like."

"Like every other restaurant out there, I assume," she told him, rolling her eyes. "He's actually a great designer, and he's amazing with lighting, which is why I brought him in. I'm sorry he's been pushy about making more changes, I'll talk to him."

"It's alright, I think he got the point after I shot down every single one of his ideas, even the good ones."

"Don't give him a gap to slide in through," she warned him.

"I won't."

"Is your staff upstairs?" She asked trying to sound casual.

"No, they decided to take their days off and make a trip out of it," he lied.

An awkward silence fell between them when they realized they were completely alone in the building; and they just stood there, looking at each other for a few seconds. RJ's mind produced a lovely image of taking her upstairs and 'do business' with her. He caught himself going down that line of thought and breathed deeply to bring himself back to reality.

"Do you have ballet rehearsals today?" He asked, just to break the silence.

"Later, yes," she answered, pressing her lips against each other. "Anyway, I just wanted to check in on you, I mean, on the restaurant. The real work should start tomorrow." She grabbed her bag from the table and turned to the door. He caught up to her, to hold the door open. "Will you be alright here by yourself?"

"I'll be fine," he dismissed. "I know kung fu."

"Right," she looked at him and the sparkle he had seen in her eyes after she had complimented his butt was gone. 

(...)

It was almost eight that night and he was on his chair, with the TV on but not really watching it, thinking about Beatrice's strange behavior, and he was so deep in thought he was startled when he heard her say: "You need a cellphone."

He jumped startled and dropped the remote in the glass of water. "Beatrice! You scared me!"

"I wouldn't have if you had a cellphone and I had been able to call you to tell you I was coming. And you should lock the doors," she chided as she made her way to his chair. She was in her sheer pink overall, over her ballet gear. Without the table on the way, RJ could see the silhouette of her whole body and he was unable to keep his eyes from looking at it. "I see they started to take down the oven wall. Kevin told me he was going to make the purchase of the new ovens tomorrow," she said but he was hypnotized, looking at her body. "Are you listening to me?"

He blinked and looked at her face. "Sorry, no."

"Kevin will buy the new ovens tomorrow. And I saw they started to take down the oven wall."

"Yeah, about that," he started, his right index pointing at the ceiling as he got up. "Wouldn't that go faster if they just tear it down? They're pretty much taking it apart brick by brick."

"I asked Pete to save as many of the original bricks as he could," she said trying to sound nonchalant.

"Curious," he started, walking towards her. "I think I heard him say you didn't mind paying to save the old bricks. Why are we paying more money to save a wall?"

"The budget was calculated with new bricks," she defended. He stared at her, crossing his arms calmly. "I am trying to keep as much of the old feel of the restaurant, trying to change as little as possible."

"That wall is facing the kitchen, the customers can't see it," he told her, taking another step in her direction.

"RJ, the kitchen is your domain," she started, looking into his eyes. "I want you to feel comfortable in it and I guessed you like the old feel the building gives. A wall of new bricks would stand out like a sore thumb, I thought you'd be uncomfortable with it."

"Seems like an unnecessary step to ensure my happiness," he said, taking another step towards her. He was now standing right outside her personal space.

"You are the chef, keeping you happy is a top priority, it affects the flavor of the food."

He stood there, looking at her with a small smile on his face. She held his stare, not moving forward, but not stepping back either. He wanted to pull her to him and kiss her deeply but he didn't dare. She was obviously into him, but also into keeping things professional.

"If the budget was calculated with the price for new bricks, who's paying the extra charge for keeping the old ones?" He asked.

"I am," she said. She swallowed hard, her hands twisting each other nervously. "You can think of it as a gift."

He sighed and blinked slowly. "Beatrice, you don't have to do this," he told her, taking the step left until he was right in front of her. "Put the real amount in the budget. You don't have to give me any gifts. I should be the one showering you with gifts and favors, you're the one doing the rescuing here."

 "RJ, I have money," she looked at him and tried to smile. "It's all I have."

"You don't have to spend your money on me." He put his hand on her shoulder and she put her hand on it.

"Please, let me," she sounded to him like she was begging. "I don't mind spending a little extra money to make sure someone I care about is happy."

"Someone you care about?" He asked, moving his hand from her shoulder and taking half a step back. He wasn't sure what to make of that description.

"I like you," she admitted with a shrug. "You're a nice man, you're funny and you're interesting," he looked down, he had never been good at taking compliments. "I really don't mind paying for a brick wall if it will make your life a little more comfortable."

"It's just a wall, Beatrice," he laughed off. "I have no attachments to it."

She looked saddened by his comment. "I still think preserving as much of the original feel is important."

"Thank you for taking the extra step," he told her. "I appreciate it." He moved in and hugged her to express his gratefulness. She felt perfect in his arms, like she belonged there, but she was tense, so he let go.

"Right," she whispered. "Well, I have to go, I have rehearsals."

"It's almost eight at night!"

"Yes, I had a busy day, but I have to rehearse my solo and I can do that on my own schedule."

"You can rehearse here anytime," he offered enthusiastically, his hands showing her the training area. "Whenever you want."

"I have to go. I'll see you tomorrow."

(...)

On Saturday, RJ was sweeping some of the debris from the dining area when he saw her come into the yard, in a summer dress with a purple flower print. Her orange hair was in a braid to the side of her head and she looked in much better spirits than she had the last few days.

He smiled at her when she opened the door and stepped in.

"Hey there," he greeted. "You look in very high spirits today!"

"I am in high spirits," she told him with a smile. "Today is a special day." She put her hand in her bag, pulling out a small box, wrapped in purple paper. "Happy birthday!" She said, handing him the present.

"How did you know? You shouldn't have," he said, taking the box. "You wrapped it in purple."

"It's your favorite color," she said happily. "There was a photocopy of your driver's license in the stack of papers you gave me when we met, that's how I know today is your birthday."

He was in shock at the fact she knew his favorite color, he couldn't remember ever telling her, and that she had made a mental note of his birth date on the day they met.

"Thanks," he told her, feeling his cheeks blush. With a child-like laugh, he tore the paper off to find the present was a cellphone, the latest model of the top line, just like hers. He thought about giving it back but remembered how hurt she looked when he told her about the wall. He smiled widely at her. "Thank you! I guess I really needed one of these," he told her.

"Glad you liked it!"

"Are you busy today?" He asked. "My friends are out of town. I don't want to spend my birthday alone," he smiled at her and thought he could take it a bit further this time. "I'd rather spend it with you."

She blushed and smiled. "I happen to be free today."

"Great! We could have lunch together," he offered, pointing at her and then at himself. "I can make us a pizza."

"The kitchen is still under construction," she pointed out.

"The ingredients are still there, and I have an oven upstairs."

"Are you sure you want to cook? It's your birthday."

"And what better way to spend it than doing what I love in the company of someone I..." He stopped himself right before he said 'love'. "Care about?" He finished and she blushed again, biting her lower lip.

"Fair enough."

(..)

Upstairs, he set the ingredients on the counter and opened the fridge to get the rest. She put the pepperoni next to the other stuff and took a seat in one of the stools.

He turned the oven on, to preheat it, and took his time cleaning the counter properly and washing his hands. She was on her phone, sending texts while he did all of this.

"I thought you said you were free," he commented while he dried his hands.

"I am," she told him, setting her phone aside. "Is there anything I can help you with? I'm not a great cook but I think I could manage something simple."

"You can help me with the cheese," he said with a smile, taking out a large bowl and setting it on the corner. "You can grate it while I make the dough."

"Are you sure this isn't too much trouble? We could order something in."

He dismissed her with swipe of his hand in the air between them. "Nonsense, I love cooking. Besides, you've done a lot for me and the least I can do is cook for you."

"RJ, you don't have to feel obliged to repay me," she told him. "Saving your business is my business."

"Maybe," he conceded, pouring cups of flour in the bowl. "But you didn't have to save it with your own money, or go the extra step to keep the kitchen intact," he added salt to the flour and filled a measuring cup with water. "Buying me a birthday present or noticing my favorite color are not your business." He added, his blue eyes staring into her hazel ones. "You did that because you're a great human being."

"That's not it," she whispered, averting her gaze from his to grab the grater and the cheese. She nodded to herself and took a deep breath.

RJ watched her take the chunk of cheese and it was too big for her delicate hand. He grabbed her wrist with one hand and the cheese with the other. She took in a sharp breath when he grabbed her wrist and stared at the point where his hand was making contact with her skin. He took the cheese from her hand, cut it into three smaller pieces and handed her one. She took it and pressed it against the grater.

(...) (this is where it goes a bit off the rails and why I stopped writing it)

"I can't..." She whispered. She breathed in deeply and then slid the cheese up and down a few times, before letting go of both cheese and grater and getting up. "I can't do this, I have to go." She said quickly, grabbing her bag and her phone.

"Beatrice, wait!" He called, running around the counter to catch her before she reached the stairs. He put a hand on her shoulder, his face full of concern. "What's wrong?"

"I can't stay, I'm sorry," she said quickly, sounding like she was on the verge of tears.

"Please, talk to me," He felt very happy with the idea of spending his birthday with her, he wanted to talk to her more, get to know her better. He didn't want her to leave him alone. "Stay with me."

"You are a very complex man," she whispered. "Most of the times I can't tell if..."

"If what?"

"If you like me or if you like me," she said, looking down the stairs.

"I do like you," He wanted to take her hand and tell her he had thought of nothing else but her since he had met her but it felt inappropriate.

She rolled her eyes. "Look," she started, her hand on his wrist, softly pushing his hand off her shoulder. "You're not interested, I get it. And it's fine, I'm not going to shoot your business down because of that, I'm not that kind of person. You don't have to do this."

Now he was genuinely confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Please," she begged. "I get it, you're not interested in..." She pressed her lips together, looking for the words. "My offer," her eyes moved to his. "And that's fine. Your restaurant is safe, you don't have to worry."

"I don't follow--"

"You drive me crazy, okay?" she told him bluntly. "But you don't have to do this, we can be business partners, we'll have our six dinners because they're in the contract and then you won't have to see me again."

"But I don't want to stop seeing you," he whispered. He looked at her face and she was on the verge of tears. Her words sank in. "When you say I drive you crazy, you don't mean I get on your nerves, do you?"

"No," she sniffed and he moved a hand to caress her hair but she stopped him. "You don't have to do this. It's fine, really."

"You think I'm not interested in you," he concluded.

"It's obvious you're not," she said after a deep breath. "Like I said, that's fine."

"No, Beatrice--"

"I'll get over it."

"You  drive me crazy," he admitted. She looked at him stunned. "I've been trying to navigate the line between being a gentleman and showing my interest. I guess it came off as me not being interested but trying to keep you hooked to save my business."

"You are interested?"

"I want nothing more," he told her, moving closer to her. "You set on fire a part of me I thought was dead. I had given up on feeling like this ever again but you..." He took a deep breath. He didn't want to sound like a lustful teenager. "You're smart and though but still sweet," he realized from the look on her face that he was confusing her again. "You're gorgeous. You've been putting yourself out there and I have noticed."

"RJ, you're gorgeous too," she whispered. "That's the first thing I noticed about you. But you're also a great man and I..." she closed her mouth, as if she was holding back what she wanted to say.

He wrapped an arm around her waist. "Please, stay with me," he whispered in her ear. She closed her eyes and he felt her weight increase on his arm, as if her knees had gone weak suddenly.

"I can't," she whispered back and she sounded really hurt. "This isn't..."

"This isn't what?" He pulled her closer.

"This isn't what you want," she told him, pushing his arm away. "This isn't what you signed up for."

"No, it isn't," he admitted. "And it isn't what you signed up for either, but here it is." He took her hand. "Please, stay. I want you here, I want to cook for you, I want to talk to you--"

"I want you," she interrupted. "I want to kiss you, I want to make love to you, I want to cuddle with you," she bit her lip again. "I want you."

"I want you too," he said honestly.

"RJ," she said, pulling her hand away from his. "I swear your business is fine, I won't shoot you down, you don't have to do this. Just let me go, I'll lick my wounds and get over it," she stepped towards the stairs and RJ despaired. "It'll be fine."

He stepped forward and wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her towards him from behind. He buried his face on her neck and kissed it lightly. Her knees went weak and held her up, close to his body. "It will not be fine," he whispered in her ears. "If I let you go, we will live the rest of our lives wondering what would have happened if you had stayed. I don't want to live like that," he kissed her neck again and she took in a sharp breath. "I want you, I am not pretending, I have never felt obliged to do anything in my life and I'm not about to start now." She turned her head to the side, pushing him away from her neck. "I want you and maybe I wasn't clear about that, but I swear that if I didn't want you, you would know for sure." He pressed his forehead against her temple. "Please, stay with me. Let's ride this wave, let's see where it takes us."

She turned in his embrace, her breathing shallow. "Don't take my offer if you don't want it for real. I don't deserve that."

"I wouldn't take it if I didn't want it for real," he told her.

He leaned in and pressed his lips against hers, in the kiss he had been wanting for so long. Her knees didn't go weak this time. Quite the opposite, in fact. She put her hand on the back of his head and deepened the kiss, making it more passionate and offering him something he couldn't say no to anymore, something he didn't want to turn down this time. He pulled her closer and pressed his body against hers, his hands moving down her back from her waist until they were resting on her buttocks. He pulled her to him and she let out a soft moan in his mouth. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him tightly, as if he might get away from her if she didn't hold on tight enough.

She broke the kiss and buried her face on his neck. "You drive me crazy," she whispered. "Your eyes, your stubble, your smile, your arms, your butt... I want you so much. I want to discover you, to know what turns you on, what drives you wild..."

He had lost his train of thought; her words and her breath and lips on his neck driving all thought from his mind. She pulled back from his neck, her hand caressing his face tenderly. He opened his eyes to look at her. "Please, stay with me," he begged. "We can have lunch, we can talk, we can make love, but only if you stay."

[syckubota]

my markers were calling to me like sirens in the midst of finishing my finals, so i caved in and did an indulgent 1 page skit...

[somethingaboutmint]

Živa knocks out her tooth ft Maccready followup

[queam]

Fallout dump

[marf244]

Commission for @tragicpond

[My commissions are open!]

[beentobeetle]

Goofers. goobers,,

(Third character, Buttons, is owned by @galoogamelady !!)

I couldn’t get the Buttons and MacCready content out of my head and… thinking of stirring Michael into that mix… the shenanigans are impalpable. They are without palp.

[clickbaitcowboy]

ALL ALONG THE WATCHTOWER-

The Gunners take their final stand against the Minutemen.

[jazziejax]

𝐌𝐲 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Terry Richmond x Black!OC, David Cliff x Black!OC, Jim Beckwourth x Black!OC

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - Things take a turn for the worst when the Nat Love hangs rolls into Sugar Cane Creek, just to discover that things ain’t as sweet as they seem.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - blood, shooting, screaming, cursing, flirting, references to weight, late 1800’s….women in pants, cowboys. Let me know if I missed anything!

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - ….I don’t have to explain myself to your, this was purely self indulgent and yall don’t like RJ Cyler enough for me anyways 🙄 UNEDITED, sorry for any spelling errors and grammar mistakes!

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 10,187+

Sugar Cane Creek stood out against the dark wilderness surrounding it, its colorful buildings painted in deep blues, warm yellows, and rich reds, a stark contrast to the dust that settled over everything in sight. The infamous town thrived despite its location and always has. A hub of trade, gambling, and entertainment that attracted all kinds—some good, some bad, and some that danced on the razor’s edge between the two.

As the Nat Love Gang rode in, the streets had quieted for the night, save for a few stragglers loitering outside gambling halls. The men rode in on their horses, eyed by the drunkenly swaying few under the glow of lantern lights and the rising moon. Watchful eyes followed the gang as they passed, some curious, some wary, and the seldom flirtatious wave from young girls eyeing the slick crusaders that were Jim Beckwourth and David Cliff. They weren’t the first group of dangerous men to ride through this town—and they wouldn’t be the last. But who’s to say those dangerous men ever made it out?

At first, the gang stopped at The Velvet Spur, the finest hotel in the town, its golden trim reflecting the flickering lamplights hung outside. The place was directly across from the bustling casino, a smart business move. They could practically hear as dice rolled, cards shuffled, and fortunes changed in an instant. The music was loud and thumping as the people inside cheered.

Nat led the way inside, followed closely by Jim and David while Bill and Terry kept watch outside. The old clerk behind the desk barely looked up over his specs from the newspaper he read before shaking his head.

“Ain’t got no rooms left,” He grumbled.

The three men stepped at how quickly they were turned down, causing Nat to blink and then look at the two men next to him. Jim, being the playful young man that he was, took his hat off and held his hand up at Nat, telling him to wait. He then stepped forward, coming closer to the clerks desk. He leaned against the counter, flashing one of his disarming grins. “Now, see, that’s a shame, sir. We rode in all this way—”

“No rooms.” The man repeated, unmoved.

“Well, you ain’t even check the book. How are you so sure there ain’t no more rooms if you ain’t even checked the book?” Jim asked, dropping the nice boy act as he gestured to the resident book that sat next to the man, closed. The older man sighed, finally looking up from his reading and at the young man. “I think I would know if the rooms were full or not, young buck. I work here.”

“Yeah, but you are lookin’ a lil, not so young. You could be mistaken—.” Jim continued before being cut off by Nat.

“That’s alright.” He said, cutting the boy off before he could make their situation worse, watching as the old man’s face turned sour at Jim’s words. “Thank you, sir.” He said, offering the clerk a forced polite smile.

David sighed, adjusting his hat on his head. “Guess that means we’re sleeping under the stars again.” He said with a shake of his head. Jim placed his hat back on his head, giving the old man a nasty once over with his signature cinnamon stick in his mouth, before trying around to face his people. Just as they turned to leave, a young worker was rushing from the back, shrugging on his coat. “I could help ya.” He said, catching their attention.” Overhearing their predicament. The men all turned to face him, the young man coming forward as he adjusted his coat.

“They got rooms at The Sweet Tooth.” He said, hitching his thumb toward the door. “It’s a saloon, but they keep a few beds upstairs. In the rooms. Real good insulation too can barely hear a thang downstairs.” He said with a grin.

It was silent for a moment, the three outlaws eyeing the strangely eager young man. The old clerk just looked between them, wanting nothing more than for the strangers and his off-the-clock coworker to leave so he like read in peace. Jim then looked back at Nat, who eyed him before he gave a single nod.

“Lead the way, then,” Nat said, the trio watching as he walked ahead of them to see the other two men waiting outside next to their horses. “I’m Clarance, by the way.” He told them, giving a polite nod to the men who eyed him by the horses, untrusting. None of them said anything in response to his introduction, simply following him across the dirt path to the saloon, the moon casting a pale glow over the bustling town.

Laughter and music spilled from the establishment, mixing with the occasional distant crack of a pistol—warnings, celebrations, or something in between.

The Sweet Tooth stood at the heart of it all of the town, smack in the middle on the right side. Its name glowed in golden letters above the entrance, the flickering lanterns giving it a warm, inviting haze. It was alive with music and laughter, a stark contrast to the quiet outside. The smell of whiskey, tobacco, and the faint scent of something sweet hung in the air, mixing with the heat of too many bodies packed into one space. The place was packed, as expected, the heavy scent of whiskey and perfume wafting through the open doors. It wasn’t the downright fanciest establishment in town, but it had its charm—polished wood, golden trim, and deep red curtains that framed a small stage where a woman in a fitted blue dress crooned a slow melody.

The young worker turned to face the gang, standing before the saloon doors with an eager nod. “Go on in. Cotton’s got rooms for folks like y’all.”

“Folks like us?” Terry asked, his light-colored eyes striking as he raised a brow, stepping past him.

Clearance grinned. “Roughriders. Outlaws. Gunmen. All kinds.” He shrugged. “She don't much care, long as you got the coin and ain’t too much trouble.”

Nat glanced at David and Jim before nodding for them to enter. They barely made it past the entrance before they were flanked by two burly men and a woman in between them. “Well, well, don’t reckon I’ve seen y’all ‘round here before. Stayin’ or goin’?” She asked, her southern twang filled with nothing but sugar as she looked between them with her big brown eyes. Her smile as inviting as the warm glow of the lanterns inside. Jim and David stepped forward a little, eyes set on the woman while the other men admired from behind. They almost got shoved back by the men at her side, who they eyed threateningly before looking back at the beautiful woman. “We’ll be staying’ for the night. Though I’d rather stay whenever you are.” Jim flirted, not hiding the way he checked the woman out.

“And what might your name be?” David smirked.

The woman just grinned at them, becoming even more beautiful in the men’s eyes. “The names’ Suga. Come on in.” She said, nodding at them to enter before walking away. The group of five men tried to make their way in, before being stopped by the large men again. Suga rushed back, a smile on her face as one of the men grabbed a big chest. “Sorry, forgot to say weapons go the case.” She said. “Not taking them or nothin’, they’ll be up in your room for you to grab after you pay. Just don’t want no trouble.” She explained before looking the closest one, who happened to be Jim, up and down, a certain glint in her eye. A glint Jim caught with a smirk. She then glanced at the rest of the group of handsome men. “And you gentlemen look like trouble.” She said before walking away again. “And I trust you’ll put them all away.”

The men put all of their weapons in the case, watching as the large man closed it before walking away with the case. Jim was the first in motion, following behind where he saw Suga go, the girl leading the men over to a table near the bar.

“Now I know you fine gentlemen are probably tired from your long way here but I gots to find my sister Cotton in order to get you your rooms.” She explained, standing before them as they all situated themselves into chairs. “Settle in for a bit, enjoy the atmosphere, get a few drinks and I’ll be right back, ‘alright?” She said, offering them a sweet smile before turning on her heel. Her long curls whipped behind her. She didn’t wait for a response from them before her attention was on the bar. “Honey, drinks at table 3! And where the hell is Cotton?!” The girl yelled, not even stopping to gain any form of response from the woman behind the bar. Said woman, Honey, simply stopped wiping the bar countertop and watched Suga disappear into the back before then looking over at table three, where the group of men sat.

She let out a small sigh before grabbing a small notepad and the pencil from behind her head, moving from behind the bar through the small door and over to the table only a few feet away. “What can I help you gentlemen to?” She asked them, her tone a little uninterested as she chewed on the end of a toothpick. She was a stunning woman as well, resembling Suga just a bit. Her skin was lighter, her grin was large, her eyes naturally low and her face was sort of long.

The gang took in Honey’s cool, effortless demeanor as she stood before them, pencil tapping against her notepad. She was beautiful, no doubt, but unlike Suga’s flirtatious charm, Honey carried herself with a calmer demeanor, like a woman who had the patience of a monk. Since she was a bartender, having to constantly deal with drunk men and bar fights, probably.

Jim, never one to pass up an opportunity to lay on the charm, leaned forward with a smirk, resting his forearm on the table. “Well now, Honey, I’d say we’ll take whatever you recommend.”

Honey’s expression didn’t change drastically, the woman simply bling at him. But the corner of her mouth twitched like she was holding back a laugh while her eyes squinted a little as she looked down at the attractive man. “Whiskey, gin, or bourbon?” She questioned with a quirk of her brow, chewing her toothpick.

David chuckled under his breath, exchanging a glance with Jim before turning back to the woman. “Whiskey. And whatever you like.” He grinned, taking his hat off and placing it on the table.

Honey raised a brow at him, then scribbled down the order. “I like Vodka. Some you ain’t ever had.” She turned on her heel without another word, leaving the men to watch her go, amusement dancing in their eyes as she swayed away.

Terry leaned back in his chair, folding his arms as he glanced around the room. “Place got some charm, I’ll give it that.” He stated, his eyes alert and ears open as he took in the vibrant place. His eyes kept going back to the stage, where the live band played, women dancing seductively while getting whistled and catcalled.

Bill, who had been quietly observing, gave a slow nod. “Ain’t too often you see a place like this run by women.”

Nat hummed in agreement, eyes scanning the room. “Means they’re either real good at what they do… or real dangerous.”

The saloon fell into a hushed lull the moment they heard the sound of thumping. The men all looked around in confusion and on edge before their eyes drifted to the stage, watching as a woman flanked by two other women walked onto the stage.

A rounder woman stood at the center of the small stage, her brown skin glowing under the dim lantern lights. Her curls were pinned up with only a few strands loose, framing her face. She was dressed in a fitted, off-the-shoulder gown, the color a deep blue and she swayed as she sang, her voice filling the saloon with raw emotion.

“Break them chains and shackles,

Ain’t no man gon’ hold me down…”

The crowd was captivated, hanging onto every note. Some clapped along, others lifted their glasses in admiration, and a few swayed, lost in the song’s spell.

The rhythmic thumping continued, echoing through the saloon like a heartbeat. It wasn’t just the sound of boots against wood—it was deliberate, steady, almost ceremonial. The two women flanking the singer clapped their hands in time, their movements graceful yet firm, adding to the weight of the moment.

“Storm may come, but I won’t tremble,

Gonna walk on free somehow…”

The entire saloon seemed to be under her spell. Even the most hardened outlaws and whiskey-soaked gamblers paused their games, their attention drawn to the woman commanding the room with nothing but her voice.

“Go on, Fluffy!” Someone called from the crowd, a man tapping his boot against the wooden floor in rhythm with her voice.

The men couldn’t deny the effect of her heavenly voice, captivating their attention as well, moving spirits they each thought they lost long ago. Nat’s fingers drummed lightly against the table, his expression unreadable. While David, Jim, and even Bill and Terry leaned forward in interest, watching the curvy woman. Drawn in by both the music and the presence of the women on stage.

David watched, his fingers drumming lightly on the table. “Now that is a voice.” He murmured, his admiration clear as he looked the woman up and down, her size and closet making her chest pop in a whole new way.

Terry nodded in agreement, eyes locked on, as the crowd called her, Fluffy. “Yeah… and a whole lot more.” He added, ignoring the way his companions all eyed him at his out-of-character statement.

Fluffy’s voice soared into the final verse, and for a moment, the entire saloon seemed to hold its breath. Even those deep in their drinks or their poker games turned to watch her, drawn in by the depth of her voice, the weight of her song. As she finished, the room erupted into cheers and applause. Fluffy beamed, taking a small bow before stepping back from the mic. The band behind her kept playing, transitioning into a livelier tune, but all eyes were still on her as she made her way down from the stage.

Honey eyed them all as she made her way back over with their drinks on a tray, following their eyes to her sister who mingled with the band. Still chewing on her toothpick, she smirked at the obvious intrigue they all showed. “Yeah, Fluffy tends to have that effect on people.” She said, catching all of their attention. “But careful now. She might sing sweet, but she’s got more bite than bark. Girls’ mouth is foul.” She told them as she sat the drinks at the table.

“I can handle that.” Jim scoffed, causing the woman to raise a brow at the back of his head since none of the women took their eyes off Fluffy. Well, not Nat and Bill, who eyed the woman giving them drinks. “Okay, hotshot. Go for it.” She scoffed at him, amusement clear in the small grin she held. And Jim, ever the opportunist, wasted no time in standing when Fluffy made her way over to the bar. “That was real nice.” He called out, his signature smirk in place once he caught her attention. “Real nice.”

Fluffy’s eyes landed on him, slowing down her trek only slightly as she made her way to the bar, and for a moment, her expression was unreadable. Then, slowly, her smirk matched his. “That right?” She called back, tilting her head at him.

“Sure is.” Jim drawled, tipping his hat. “Got a voice that could make a man rethink all his sins.”

Fluffy let out a soft chuckle, grabbing the closest drink in sight, that she was lucky to be the water Homey sat out prior, and then backed away from the counter with effortless grace. “And you look like a man with plenty of ‘em.” She told him, placing her hands on her hips.

David nearly choked on his drink, while Terry and Billie tried to hide their amusement by holding their heads down. Even Nat cracked a small smile.

Jim placed a hand over his chest, feigning offense. “Now that ain’t fair. That ain’t fair at all. You don’t even know me yet.” He said, a fake pout on his lips, his cinnamon stick still sticking out his plump lips.

Fluffy, now standing just a few feet away, raised a brow. “Yet? How ‘bout not at all, scrub.” She said, then turning on her heel and walking away from him. David and Terry choked on their laughs while Jim gaped at the woman.

Honey, who had made her way over to the bar as they talked, was now standing behind the bar. She let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “What’d I tell ya?” She said before letting out a small laugh and going back to fix more drinks.

Suga then came back from the back and looked a tad agitated with her hands on her hips. “Can’t find Cotton’s behind nowhere. That girl is never in the spot you leave her in.” She grumbled to Honey she came a stole at the bar. The bartender just cleaned cups, looking at her sister with a call face.

“What’d you need Cotton for?” She asked.

“I needed her to check these men in for a room tonight. She’s the one who always does it.” Suga stated.

“And why can’t you do it?” Honey asked, her tone annoyingly calm for the younger girl's liking, causing Suag to squint her eyes at the woman. “Cause I ain’t done it before.” She said firmly.

“Why don’t you just try?”

“Why don’t you just try, huh? Since it’s oh, so, damn easy. It ain’t that simple, Heidi.” Suga spat, slamming her hands down on the counter a tad. That caused Honey to arch a brow at her, eyes turning stern. “Watch your tone, youngin’. Before I douse you in alcohol and throw you in the fire pit.” She said, pointing a finger at the girl. Suga just groaned, bringing out her youngest sister's attitude with the second oldest. She looked at her sister, unbeknownst, or not caring, to the group of men who subtly listened in now and then to their conversation.

“Can you just come help me? Just this once?” She begged. Honey sighed, setting down the cup she had been cleaning and shaking her head as she slapped the rag onto the counter. “Lord, you’re helpless.”

Suga huffed. “I ain’t helpless, I just ain’t done it before!”

Honey just rolled her eyes. “Alright, fine. But you best pay attention, ‘cause I ain’t gon’ be doin’ this for you every time. This caused Suga to beam, grabbing Honey’s wrist and pulling her from behind the bar. The older sister shook her head but let her drag her along, her boots clicking against the worn wooden floors as they made their way toward the check-in area. Honey grabbed the book from the desk before moving back over to the group of men. “Follow me, get y'all settled in.” She said, offering them a polite smile as she nodded her head elsewhere. “Y’all got horses?” Honey asked, looking back at them.

Nat nodded.

She motioned for them to follow. “Come on, then. Stables are out back.”

The night had settled into a steady hum—distant music from the saloon, laughter from the streets, the occasional hoot of an owl. They walked the horses from across the road to the back of the saloon, the stables a good distance from the bar. The Sweet Tooth’s lanterns cast a golden glow over the dirt road as they made their way to the back, where the modest stable stood. The scent of hay and leather mixed with the lingering perfume of the saloon. The horses snorted softly as the men led them into the stables, their hooves thudding against the wooden floor.

Honey moved with practiced ease, unlatching the stable doors and gesturing for them to bring the horses in. “Y’all take that side.” She instructed, pulling her sleeves up. “Ain’t got no stable boys this late, so if you want ‘em fed and brushed, best get to it.” She stated, waiting for the men to lead their horses into the extra rooms available for them.

The men stood there for a moment, only sharing a glance before Honey crossed her arms, watching them with an amused tilt of her head. “Y’all ever put up your own horses before, or you just let the stable boys do it for ya?” She mused, a smirk playing on her lips.

Jim, always the first to have something to say, scoffed as he led his horse inside. “Course we know how to put up our own damn horses. Just ain’t used to bein’ told to do it by a lady.” He stated, shrugging as if it was some simple thought as he looked over at her, still chewing on that same stick of cinnamon. The men, one by one, eased their trusted animals into the available resting spot for the night.

Honey let out a short laugh. “Well, ain’t that a shame? Guess y’all better get used to it ‘round here.” She said, causing Suga to grin as she watched the men put the animals away. David chuckled under his breath, watching as Jim rolled his eyes but got to work. Nat, ever the quiet observer, led his own horse inside without a word, his sharp eyes noting the ease with which Honey moved.

“You run this place, then?” He spoke up and asked, his voice low and even but ever curious.

Honey glanced over at him as she softly kicked a bale of hay next to one of the stalls, mentally reminding herself to move it if Cotton didn’t. “Nah. That’s Cotton’s job. But between me and Suga, we do our best to make sure it don’t fall apart.”

Terry, brushed down his horse with steady strokes from a spare brush he picked up, looking over at her with a small smirk. “And where exactly is this Cotton?”

Honey sighed, pushing the stray curls from her halo braid from her face. “That’s the million-dollar question, ain’t it?” She grinned and then looked toward the saloon as if expecting Cotton to materialize. “Girl’s like a ghost when she wanna be.”

Before she could be questioned further, Jim spoke up, grinning loudly in the dead of night within the hollow stable. “Don’t think I ever had to work for a bed before.” Jim sighed, shaking his head as he ran a hand down his horse’s neck.

Honey grinned, catching his words as she leaned against one of the stable doors. “Ain’t too used to takin’ orders from women either. Well, welcome to Sugar Cane Creek.” She said.

They were just finishing up when the sharp clang of metal rang out, followed by the scrape of buckets rolling across the dirt. “Who’s supposed to be watchin’ the bar and servin’ drinks if you two are back here?” Instinct kicked in—the men straightened, hands twitching toward holsters that weren’t there. Suga and Honey quickly turned from where they stood, Suga opened one of the stable doors to cover her vulnerable sun was shots were fired while Honey gripped the gun hidden in the back of her dress, her tucked shirt riding up.

A figure stood at the entrance to the stable, framed by the lantern light and the shadows of the night. It was a woman, dressed in fitted brown trousers, a crisp white blouse, and a matching leather vest. A hat sat atop her head, casting a slight shadow over her striking features. Her stance was confident, hands were perched on her hips, her sharp eyes scanning the scene. She stepped further into the stables, showing how a single brow arched high as she looked between Suga and Honey expectantly. The lantern light cast a golden glow over her smooth brown skin, and though her stance was firm, there was a hint of amusement in her sharp gaze.

Suga’s slight pains turned into familiarity, a bright smile appearing on her typically bubbly face. “Well, look who finally decided to show up.

“Yeah, you know this place don’t run well without you, Cotton.” Honey teased.

The woman scoffed, crossing her arms. “Don’t play with me, Suga and Honey. You know damn well I was tendin’ to the ranch at Mama’s. Now who’s keepin’ the Sweet Tooth runnin’ while y’all out here flirtin’ and playing table hands?”Her voice was smooth yet firm, carrying over the stableyard like a whip crack. There was something different about her compared to her sisters—less sugar, more steel.

Honey sighed. “Ain’t nobody playin’.” She said.

“And ain’t nobody flirtin’,” Suga added, glancing over at the men. “We’re just settlin’ these gentlemen in.”

At the mention of gentlemen, the woman’s gaze flicked toward the group, scanning them with a quick, practiced sweep. And then let out a dry chuckle, shifting her weight onto one hip. “Oh, really? ‘Cause from what I see, you got a whole mess of men out here playin’ stable boy while the saloon runs damn near itself.”

Jim, never one to miss an opportunity, stepped forward with an easy grin. “Now, I wouldn’t say we’re playin’, miss. Just followin’ orders.” His voice was all honeyed charm, his grin even more so.

The woman arched a brow, unimpressed. “That right?” She turned her gaze to Honey, who merely shrugged. “They needed a place to sleep. No stable boys this late. Seemed only fair they work for it.”

David stepped forward, sensing this was the infamous name they’d been hearing all night. “That you, Miss Cotton?” He asked curiously, eyeing the woman up and down from the stable she stood directly next to, causing her to turn her head and look him up and down. She then met his gaze without hesitation. “Depends. Who’s askin’?” She questioned, quirking a brow at him

Jim, never one to pass up a chance to charm, took a step forward with his best smile. “Jim Beckwourth, at your service.” He gave a small bow as he took his hat off his head. “And might I just say, Miss Cotton, you wear them trousers better than any man I’ve ever seen.”

Cotton only let pout a faux amused hum as she tilted her head at him. “I’m sure you say that to every woman in pants, Mr.Beckworth.”

“I don’t,” Jim replied smoothly. “Only the ones that take my breath away.”

Suga snorted behind her hand while Honey rolled her eyes. “Good Lord.” She scoffed. Cotton, however, remained unimpressed, though there was the slightest twitch at the corner of her eyes as she sized the man up. She then stepped closer, looking Jim up and down with a slow, deliberate gaze before nodding once.

“Hm. That so?” She drawled, before reaching out and tapping the brim of his hat with a single finger. “Well, Mr. Beckwourth, I reckon you best hold onto that breath of yours. You’re gonna need it if you plan on keepin’ up ‘round here.”

Jim’s grin widened. “That a challenge?”

“It’s a fact,” Cotton stated firmly with a smirk. She then hummed a small tune, tapping a finger against her arm as she glanced around at the scene—half-groomed horses, saddles still slung over posts, and a handful of outlaws looking more amused than weary. “Hmph. Well, I’ll take it from here, dear sisters.” She said, walking over to her sinking and taking the reservation book from Honey’s hands. “Thank you, Heidi, Susanna.” She said, a fake smile on her face as she looked between them while the men’s eyes widened some at the revelation of them all being related.

Honey rolled her eyes at the use of her full name. “Don’t start, Cotton.”

Cotton, now properly named, let out a scoff as she shook her head. “Already did.” Then, with a nod toward the men, she tipped her hat. “Let’s go get you brothas settled in properly, shall we?” She said, nodding over to the saloon before she turned on her heel, leading the way back inside and expecting them to follow.

Suga let out a low whistle as the group watched the woman walk away, staying to help the men finish putting the animals up before following after Cotton. “She always knew how to make an entrance.” She said, placing her hands on her hips as her dress swayed in the nightly breeze, more so speaking to her sister next to her, but Jim chimed in from behind the pair as the group followed the woman back in.

“Can’t say I mind it all too much.” He said his grin still in place. David, who had been quietly observing the exchange, let out a small chuckle. “Think we know why she’s the one actually runnin’ things ‘round here.”

Honey scoffed at them, flashing a quick look behind her, but she didn’t deny it. “Y’all done gawkin’ or you need a few more minutes?” She asked, speaking to the main paper that seemed to be on one all night.

Jim continued to smirk, twisting the flavorful fired plant in his mouth. “Guess that depends. You got more sisters hidin’ ‘round here?” He asked, quirking a brow at her. Honey simply narrowed her eyes at him before turning away from them again. “Stable’s done for now. Y’all can come inside if you know how to behave.” She said, eyeing the younger pair of men behind her before opening the doors back into the establishment. Suga snorted, nudging her sister on her way in as they all followed her back into the saloon. “That’s a big if.”

The women led them over to the bar, where Cotton was behind the counter, second a few drinks. She looked up at the movement in her peripheral, catching the group enter. She slid a drink down the counter to a waiting man before setting the dish rag down and then grabbing the reservations book, walking from behind the counter. 

She moved with an air of authority, her hat now gone to show her long white patch of hair at the front of her hair. It was divided into two sections down the middle and going down either side of her face into the two long braids she had going down her back. The unique silver color for a woman her age was setting her apart as much as the tailored vest and trousers she wore instead of a dress. She had a gun strapped to her hip, and two holstered to her back, but it wasn’t just for show—every man in that saloon could see it.

She stopped just a few steps from the table, one hand resting on her hip as she took them all in, her dark eyes sharp and assessing. “How many rooms yall need?”

“Five,” Nat answered. “Just for the night.”

Cotton clicked her tongue, glancing toward the book she held before looking back up at them. “Ain’t got five rooms, but I got three. Two of y’all will have to share.” She stated, her tone leaving no room for disagreement.

Jim and David immediately turned to look at each other, their expressions mirroring the same silent conversation—not it.

“I’ll bunk with Bill,” Terry offered softly, to which Bill simply nodded. Cotton gave a satisfied nod. “Payment’s due upfront. No exceptions. 25 cents a night. She stated. Nat pulled a small pouch from his coat, dropping it onto the table. Cotton took it without hesitation, weighing it in her hand before tucking it away. “Rooms are upstairs. Suga’ll show you to ‘em.” She said. She stared at them for a moment, her flickering over all of them before offering her first smile since she’d met them.

“Enjoy your stay in Sugar Cane Creek, boys.” She smiled. “And just watch yourself with the women in this here establishment. Don’t want to start no trouble where there don’t need to be nun’.” She stated, her smile turning tense before disappearing right before their eyes. “And I don’t quite have the patience for that.” She sneered.

Jim placed a hand over his heart, feigning innocence. “Trouble? Us? Never.” He said, shaking his head as he leaned back in his chair. Cotton, however, wasn’t amused. She just blinked at them. “Y’all keep yourselves in line.” She murmured before turning on her heel to face the two women behind her.

“And you doves can get back to work. This ain’t no social hour.” She said.

Suga rolled her eyes playfully. “Yes, ma’am.” She said as she watched her oldest sister walk away, leaving her to get the men settled in.

“Now that’s a woman,” Jim stated firmly. “I think I’m in love.” He said, watching Cotton walk away from them. David leaned back in his chair, exhaling through his nose, his eyes on the woman as well. “I like this place.”

Terry simply sighed. “You think that every time you meet a woman with a sharp tongue and a pretty face.”

Jim just chuckled, clearly unbothered. “Yeah, but this time, I really mean it.”Nat just chuckled, shaking his head. It was going to be an interesting night.

They all stood from their seats, downing the last of their drinks and following the young woman up the stairs. She led the men up across the room, the beginning of the steps near the stage. The stairs were large and sort of grand for just a saloon, but The Sweet Tooth was different to begin with, starting out with how big it was.

The wood did creak under their weight, however, Suga’s purple dress swaying with each step as she jingled the keys in her hand, drawing the attention of the group of men behind her, almost putting them in a trance.

“Alright, gentlemen, listen up.” She called over her shoulder as they reached the second floor. The hall was sort of like a balcony, with large pillars holding most of the upstairs view from the people down below, but the view from up top gave them a wide angle of the casino. She stopped in the dimly lit hallway, motioning toward the doors ahead.

“This hall here holds rooms three, four, and five.” She handed a key to Nat, another to Bill, and the last to Jim, who twirled it between his fingers with an easy grin. The small metal objects each had a plated tag hanging off of it, showcasing the room number that was also welded on the door. “Y’all are payin’ twenty-five cents a night, no exceptions. If you plan on stayin’ longer, I suggest you pay upfront, ‘cause once the room’s claimed, it’s claimed.” She began before along again, leading them closer to their abodes for the night.

She gestured toward the first door on the left, room three. “Room three’s got two beds, room four’s got two as well, and room five’s got one. If y’all want coffee and breakfast in the mornin’, you’ll either have to take a walk over to The Velvet Spur across the road, they serve food for a price. Or you can head over to Poundcake’s. That’s the diner ‘bout five doors down from here.” She folded her arms, turning around and glancing between them. “Any questions?” She asked sweetly.

David nodded toward the far end of the hall. “What about baths?”

Suga grinned. “You lookin’ to soak or just rinse off?”

David exhaled through his nose, amused. “Preferably soak.” He said, a small hitch in his brow as he looked at the woman.

“Then you’ll have to take yourself down to the bathhouse. Across the way, ‘bout a block down. They got heated water if you’re willin’ to pay extra. But if all you need is a quick rinse, we got a pump out back. Cold as hell, but it’ll do the trick.“

Jim scoffed. “Cold water don’t suit me.” He said, looking the woman up and down. Suga just fluttered her lashes at him as she blinked. “Well, lucky for you, Mr. Beckwourth, I don’t recall askin’.” Suga flashed a playful grin before nodding toward the doors. “Now, go on. Y’all smell like road dust and bad decisions.” She sighed wistfully before moving past them, her sweet scent trailing behind as she disappeared from their vicinity. Jim watched the woman walk away, a mischievous glint in his eye and a smirk on his lips.

The men chuckled as they made their way into their respective rooms. The accommodations were simple but clean—wooden bed frames with thick quilts, a small writing desk, a half bath, and a washbasin in the corner. Though room five, the one David got lucky choosing, had a bath and tub available for him to use. Looks like he landed himself in the couples' suite.

They didn’t waste much time settling in, only taking a moment to stash their bags and pull their weapons from the box those men carried in earlier. They barely had a moment to breathe before a sharp bang rang out from downstairs, the sound of something slamming, followed by the unmistakable sound of a bell being rung inside the saloon.

All five men froze, their hands instinctively going toward their guns. They all rushed out of their rooms, looking over the balcony and into the busy bottom floor, which now stopped what they were doing, looking around and waiting for the bell to stop ringing.

The music halting and the chatter dying made them able to hear the sound of rapid footsteps pounding against the floorboards outside. The door burst open, and a young boy came bursting through the saloon doors, huffing and puffing with his hat in his hands. “Crimson Hoods.”He warned. “Coming in fast.”

The air in the saloon shifted. Voices hushed even more. Everything was still for a moment, among them able to hear the distant sound of hives hitting the ground. This caused Cotton to sigh, coming from behind the bar. “You know the drill. Get to it.” She stated firmly. Her voice wasn’t raised, but it carried through the room like a command, settling into every ear and spine.

And that was all it took.

Chairs scraped against the floor as men pushed back from their tables, downing the last swigs of their drinks before moving swiftly to their places. Guests were led to the back while the workers at the gambling tables grabbed the weapons attached to their person and from under chairs and tables. Some headed for the windows, peeking through the curtains, while others took up positions near other entrances. The saloon moved like a well-oiled machine, each person knowing their role without hesitation. The gamblers armed themselves swiftly, drawing weapons from hidden holsters, under tables, and from inside waistbands.

The piano player shut the lid over the keys and stepped aside, revealing a shotgun tucked neatly beneath the bench. One of the assistant bartenders slipped a pistol from under the counter, checking the chamber before setting it within reach.

Women, too, moved with purpose. A few waitresses strolled toward the back halls, guiding guests and working girls away from the main floor, while others stationed themselves behind furniture, weapons discreetly in hand, from knives to revolvers. The Sweet sisters were no exception—Honey pulled a sawed rifle from behind the bar, Fluffy nicked up her dress and unstrapped the large knife from her thigh, and Suga grabbed the two pistols from Cotton's back holsters as she passed, spinning the chamber before snapping it shut. And Cotton sat the shit fun she has by the door, another two pistols at her for a quick draw.

Upstairs, the men exchanged looks. It was clear this wasn’t the first time Sugar Cane Creek had braced itself for a fight. And it seemed that they had led trouble right to their doorstep.

“Well,” Bill muttered, rolling his shoulders. “Guess unwindin’ will have to wait. He sighed before beginning to walk off towards the stairs. Nat was already moving with him, his expression grim. “Let’s go.” He grumbled. Without hesitation, the rest of the gang followed, boots thudding against the worn wooden floors as they made their way downstairs. “This is one hell of a welcome,” Bill muttered, pressing his lips into an impressed smirk, the thrill of it all thudding in his heart.

The Sweet sisters stood at the door, Cotton giving orders to the men that lingered while Honey and Suga flanked each side of the swinging entrance. “Ajei, Dezba, I want you to upstairs in my office by the window, don’t be seen and shoot on my whistle.” She commanded the two Native dealers, dressed in crisp white shirts, black vests, and slacks, to give her a curt nod before moving. “Let Charles and Sanford know you’re there.” She said, referring to snipers stationed on her roof.

She then turned to the large men who stopped them on their way in. “Gordo, Rito, I want you two to walk out with me when they touch down.” She stated as she moved over to the door, the butt of her shotgun dragging against the ground. And then she stood there, fingers wrapped around her gun. Her sisters stood on either side of the door while Gordo and Rito stationed themselves behind her.

A thick silence then fell over the saloon, making the sound of thudding hooves loud as they got closer and closer. The new group of men all looked at one another, watching as the situation seemed to be going a bit smoothly without them. But they needed to step in. Those hoods were there for them, probably being trailed far back, and led them right into Sugar Cane Creek.

They heard the hooves approaching, the thunderous sound echoing within the quiet bar before they began to come to a halt. The silence in the saloon was thick enough to choke on, broken only by the slow, steady thudding of hooves against packed dirt. The Crimson Hoods were close now. Too close.

Nat and his gang exchanged looks, understanding passing between them without words. This situation was running smoothly without their interference—for now. But they knew damn well that those men weren’t here for the Sweet family. No, they had to have been trailed. Led those rough necks right into Sugar Cane Creek. Nat exhaled sharply through his nose, glancing at his men before giving a firm nod. Time to move.

Once their hooves finally decided to decent slowly, Cortton nodded her head at the drop that surrounded her. Honey and Suga tightened their grip on their weapons while Gordo and Rito pushed the doors open, moving to step outside before their boss did. The air was tight with tension, thick and heavy like the humidity before a storm. There was a long moment of silence before Cotton decided to make her move. She stepped out onto the creaking porch, the only sound slicing through the silence was the slow, deliberate thump of Cotton’s rifle against wooden boards as she strode forward, her boots clicking against the dusty and dried porch.

There they were. The Crimson Hoods, sat still on their horses, a dozen shadowy figures cloaked in deep red. The leader at the front made a show of dismounting once the woman walked out, his movements unhurried, almost lazy. A few of the gang members staggered, trying to follow the man. The supposed ring leader yanked the sack off his head, revealing a smirk stretched across sharp features, the silver gleam of his gills catching in the dim lantern light.

Red Benny.

His name carried weight across parts of the West, whispered in places where men feared to speak too loud. A man who lived for the thrill of conquest, for the chaos his gang carved into the land like a hot knife through butter. For the riches, he’d blow in the same hour of obtaining them.

Cotton squared her shoulders, rifle still in hand but not yet raised. She knew better than to move first.

“Evenin’, Miss Sweet.” Benny drawled, his voice a slow, smooth rasp, like whiskey rolling over jagged rocks. “Ain’t this a fine night?” He asked with a sly grin. Cotton’s expression didn’t waver, her stare locked into his while her men eyed the others next to her. “Depends on who you ask.” She deadpanned as she owned the weight of her gun.

Benny chuckled, shaking his head as he took a bold step forward. The men around him stayed still, waiting for a cue. Neither did Cotton’s men, only soaking the men under her scrutinizing gaze a glance, before focusing on the masked men behind him.

“Now, now,” Benny said, spreading his hands wide as if to show how harmless he was. “No need to be so tense. We’re just passin’ through.”

Cotton’s fingers flexed over the muzzle of her rifle, jaw flexing as she stared down at the man. “Funny thing, Benny. I’ve heard that before, right before a town wound up burned to the ground.” She sighed, moving herself to lean her weight off the large gun and stand firm on her feet, eyes unmoving from his frame. “And that won’t be happening here, boy.”

Benny clicked his tongue, just as a fire lit in his eyes, something full of rage and hatred in them. “You wound me, sweetheart.”

The woman simply let out a small scoff from her place at the center of the porch, moving the rest of her gun on her shoulder. Her movements caused some of the men behind him to reach for their weapons. But Benny quickly held up his hands, signaling them to stop. Cotton simply arched a brow at the bold men behind Benny, not an ounce of fear showing on her at the potential death that almost happened. “Ain’t nobody ever been sweet on you, Benny. And I damn sure won’t be the one to start.”

His grin widened, making his annoyance and bitterness with faux amusement. “That so?” He questioned. Cotton just stared at him, quirking a brow due to the timing since that followed, wanting to see his next movie or he could move on. He let his gaze drift, wiping his nose as his eyes caught the sight of hats moving inside. His eyes landed briefly on the shadows behind the saloon’s swinging doors, where more figures lurked. Cotton’s expression remained unreadable, but the weight of her stare was heavy, unrelenting. The way Benny spoke, all slow and measured, trying to put on that boyish charm, only made her grip her rifle a little tighter.

Then, finally, his eyes flicked toward Cotton’s rifle, still at her side.

“I think you may have something of ours in that saloon of yours, that’s all.” The man said, trying to put on this innocent act while he stalled, only building up the irritation within her. Nat stood near the entrance of the saloon, not even tensing at the man’s mention of his crew, his arms folded as he watched Cotton work. He wasn’t one to intervene in another gunslinger’s standoff unless he had to, and right now? Cotton had it handled, but this was just as much as his fight. And if Benny or his boys so much as twitched the wrong way, Nat’s hand was already hovering near his holster.

Cotton tilted her head slightly. “That so?” She asked, though the infliction in her voice never chanted, bland and dry as ever.

Benny nodded, taking another slow step forward. He was near easy up the steps, making Cotton grip the rule tighter while she discreetly signaled to her sisters at the door with a flick of her finger. “Couple of fellas we was trailing a while ago, we lost ‘em. But then for works pretty quickly that they’d turned up here. You wouldn’t happen to know where they are, would you?” He questioned with a quick tilt of his head and a shrug.

Cotton gave a dry chuckle, her free hand settling on her hip. “Sugar Cane Creek ain’t in the business of harborin’ rats, Benny. If somebody’s here, it’s ‘cause they paid their dues, and that means they got my protection.” She let the words hang in the air, firm and final. David watched quietly, eyes steady on the scene unfolding outside. He hadn’t been in Cane Creek long, but he had learned fast—when Cotton spoke, people listened. She’s got control over this entire town, and she don’t even have to raise her voice. He admired that. A show of force wasn’t always necessary, but Cotton could pull the trigger just as easy as she could talk a man into his grave. And if this went south? He’d be ready.

Benny let out a deep sigh, rubbing a hand over his chin before giving her a look that was equal parts amused and frustrated. “Now, see, that’s the thing about you Sugar Creek folks. Always so hospitable.” His voice was thick with sarcasm. “But sometimes, a good host knows when it’s best to hand over the unwanted guests.” He finished, his jaw clenching near the end of his tangent in agitation.

Cotton rolled her shoulders, letting her weight shift. She glanced at Gordo and Rito beside her, simply blinking at the two men as she pretended to think what she was going to say to him. She caught sight of stragglers hiding, people peeking out of their blinds while the bold, eyed them from around corners. It seemed as if the entire town was watching, waiting, breathing in sync with her.

“I don’t take kindly to folks ridin’ up in my town, throwin’ threats at my doorstep,” Cotton said, voice dropping low. “You and your boys may not be outnumbered, Benny. But what you lack in skill and all-around intelligence, well, you see, I make up for it. Ten times over, matter a fact. In this town, and the next. And, quite frankly, any damn town I step my foot into.” She hissed. “Now…” She began, taking a few steps forward and looking down at the man below the steps, the wind blowing dust on the path he stood on. “You sure you wanna see how that plays out?” She asked with a quirk of her brow.

Ans for the first time, Benny’s smirk wavered, his facade cracking under her hard gaze. She caught just a flicker of something calculating behind his eyes, catching the small twitch in his jaw, a tell to his irritation. She knew she got to him. And he knew Cotton wasn’t bluffing. The Sweet family ran Sugar Cane Creek tight, and a fight here wouldn’t be a fair one, and it wouldn’t be one that ended.

Still, the ever egotistical man that he was, he pretended. He had a reputation to uphold.

His smirk turned into something sharper.

“So,” He murmured, voice still deceptively light, “What’s it gonna be, Miss Sweet? You gonna let us on through and take what we owe, or are we gonna have ourselves a little dance?”

Cotton let the moment as she quirked a brow at his suddenly, allowing Benny to sit in his own impatience, and stupidity for the way going to regret acting tomorrow morning.

Her eyes flicked from him to the men behind him, her eyes squinting in the blowing wind as they all stood still as statues, their hands resting near their weapons. The whole town was waiting, listening. Even the wind seemed to hush, as if afraid to stir the wrong way.

Then, slowly, deliberately, Cotton exhaled through her nose and took one more step forward, standing at the very edge of the porch. Her rifle still rested against her shoulder, but the weight of her stare alone might as well have been a bullet.

“You ain’t owed a damn thing.” She annunciated slowly, voice smooth as warm honey but hard as the steel barrel of her gun, raising a bit as she reached her peak. “Not by me, not by this town.”

Benny’s smirk tightened, but his fingers twitched at his side. He wasn’t used to being told no.

Cotton just tilted her head slightly, her tone turning mocking as she continued. “You said you lost ‘em. So tell me, Benny, how’s that my problem?” She asked, blinking at him.

Benny chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “Y’see, that’s the thing, Miss Sweet. I don’t like losin’ things. And when I do, I tend to get ‘em back—one way or another.”

Cotton’s lips barely twitched. “That a threat?”

“Ain’t a threat if it’s a promise.”

The town was holding its breath now. Cotton could practically feel her sisters at her back, feel the tension thickening in the air like a storm rolling in.

She clicked her tongue. “Well, then, let me make you a promise, Benny.” She lowered her rifle from her shoulder, resting the butt against her hip, one hand still wrapped around the barrel. “You take one step further, and I put your black ass in the dirt where you stand.” She spat.

Benny stilled.

The men behind him straightened.

Cotton didn’t move an inch.

Then, Benny exhaled through his nose, a slow, sharp breath, before he finally took a step back. He glanced once more at the saloon doors, catching nothing. Then at the eyes peering through windows, at the large men flanking Cotton. His jaw worked as he mulled it over.

But before he could make a decision, Cotton let out a slow, lilting whistle, the sound carrying in the wind.

Then—chaos.

It all happened in a blink. A loud shot rang out, and the man fell to the ground with a sharp pain shooting through his right arm. Benny screamed in anguish as the searing heat bobbled up his arm. He barely processed what he felt and what had happened before another shot tore into his other arm. But his loud exclamations of pure pain were unheard over the cries from the other men as the sniper's bullets howled they found their marks with the rest of the Crimson Hoods.

Benny fell to the ground at the pain, wailing at the top of his lungs at the hot bullets felt as if they boiled under his skin. Cotton slowly descended the steps, her cold eyes trained on the screaming man on the ground as he bled out, her boots slow and measured against the wooden steps until they hit the dirt road.

Controlled chaos ensued around them, Honey and Suga popping out from behind the doors and shooting at hoods that tried to run or pull out their weapons, gunfire cracking through the air. Nat and his gang followed—their fastest gunslingers, David and Jin, moving like shadows, their revolvers striking true. Terry and Bill picked their shots with lethal precision, their rifles sending men to the dust with every pull of the trigger. Nat himself moved like a man with nothing to lose, his pistol barking in his hand.

Cotton stood over Benny, who writhed in the dirt, clutching at his bloody arms, looking down at him as he cried out in anguish. It wasn’t long before gunfire quieted and pains turned back into silence. The last of the Crimson Hoods either lay dead or had fled into the night with injuries they wouldn’t survive. The town, once holding its breath, now released it in a tense, waiting silence.

Save for the lead man, who was now bleeding with the rest of his fallen soldiers. Cotton only looked up from the man when caught the sounds of pleading from next to her, looking over to see David pressing the barrel of his gun to the last man standing. She cast a sharp whistle to catch his attention. When he glanced at her, she shook her head. “Not him.” She said, and David didn’t argue, while she didn’t explain before looking back down at the infamous Red Benny.

“Now you know not to ever try me again.” She stated, not caring if the man heard her over his own screams, Her voice was calm, nearly bored.

She blinked at him. Then, without hesitation, she shot him in the leg. Benny emitted a loud cry.

Cotton barely blinked before turning her attention to the last remaining Crimson Hood. She walked up to him, yanking the burlap sack from his head before gripping his jaw, her fingers digging into his skin until he winced.

“You take him. Take that horse.” She nodded toward the wounded Benny and the tethered stallion nearby, most of the others either running away or dying in the line of fire of the man brawl. “And you get the hell up outta here. I see—or even hear either of your names—I’ll kill you slow.” She spat. The man frantically nodded, causing Cotton to push his face away from her hands. She watched as the man scrambled and gathered Benny and the horse as best as he could ride off, the woman not turning away until she couldn’t see them and could no longer hear Benny’s cries.

Cotton waited until they were gone before she turned, dusting her hands off onto her pants. She then took off her hat to smooth down the front pieces of her hair that came up, her silver money pieces giving her an odd sense of youth. Once straightened, she turned on her heels. “Somebody come clean this shit up!” She called out, stepping back into the saloon without so much as a glance at her family and newfound allies.

The town was still, silent in the aftermath. The only sounds left were the soft clinking of spent shells on the blood-streaked dirt and loud crickets from the forest near yonder.

Jin twirled his revolvers once before sliding them back into their holsters, looking at her walk away with something between respect and amusement. “Ain’t never seen a woman put a man down that quick and still have time to fix her hair after.” He said, admiration somewhat in his tone.

Cotton didn’t respond. She just stepped past them. The moment she crossed the threshold, the tension in her shoulders loosened—but only just. She wasn’t done yet. Inside, the saloon was eerily quiet. People had ducked behind tables, cowered near the walls, or simply frozen in place, waiting to see how the night would end. Her men unstationed themselves, putting their smoking guns down at the sight of no more danger.

Cotton closed her eyes as she rolled her neck, the weight of the night settling in, but she didn’t let it show. Gin still in hand, she walked straight to the bar, grabbed an empty glass, and poured herself a shot of whiskey with steady hands.

She threw it back in one smooth motion before slamming the glass on the counter. Then, without looking, she called out, “We got about ten minutes before more folks come snoopin’. Y’all best start cleanin’ up.” Knowing that her sisters and their new friends had followed her inside, all in a state of limbo at what just occurred.

Honey was the first to move, stepping in and surveying the damage with a nod. “I’ll get someone to strip the bodies for what they have, Gordo and Rito will move them.” She said, already heading for the door again.

Suga clicked her tongue, lazily wiping down the counter as if that would somehow erase the tension still lingering in the air. “Guess that means me and the girls are on blood duty.” She pouted a little, referring to the other waitresses at the bar.

This caused Fluffy to smack her lips, cutting her eyes at her sister. “So I’m on graveyard duty? Again?” She asked, holding her hands on her hips. “My digging clothes are dirty.” She added. Cotton, who had just thrown back another shot, slammed the glass down with a dull thunk. She turned to Fluffy, unimpressed. “Good, ‘cause they’re just gonna get filthy again. Now take four of them men and get to it.” She said, nodding her head over to the working men of the bar. None of the women even had to ask, they didn’t even have to speak, before four of them jumped into action, heading out to the stables to grab supplies to get to digging a mass grave out back.

Once the women left to do their duties for the night, Cotton took one last shot before looking around at the customers who still lingered. “Y’all ain’t gotta go home, but you gotta get the hell up outta here.” She stated, causing the non-staying customers to hurry and scurry out of the saloon, not even caring about the money they left behind for the establishment to take.

Outside, the scraping of boots against dirt and the hushed whispers of those still brave enough to linger filled the air.

Cotton looked over at the group of men who seemed to be nothing but trouble, but she knew tonight wasn’t entirely their fault. Her eyes were back to their dull and unimpressed glint, rhetorical hatred, and quiet anger she felt earlier not in sight. She looked between them before simply blinking. “Welcome to Sugar Cane Creek, this is the Sweet Tooth and I hope you enjoy your stay.” She said, offering the most subtle polite smile before making her way upstairs and down a hall on the opposite side of the saloon, disappearing for the night.

The group of unfamiliar men might’ve been watching before, admiring the beauties The Creek had to offer, but now they knew.

Sugar Cane Creek wasn’t just a town.

It was her town.

[notapradagurl7]

We Meet Again.

Black Fem! ReaderHairStylist! x Lamont Diggs.

Fandom: Rap Sh!t(2022-2023)🥲

Summary: When your niece, Kailey is best friends with your client's daughter that you drove to school but didn't give them right back to your sibling, you didn't expect to run in Lamont again and you didn't know that he had a crush on you, leading to more than a confession.

WC: 3,435k

A/N: I’ve been wanting to write about Lamont for a minute! He’s been fine to me since day one, and I miss rap sh!t, 😭 don't forget to leave comments, likes and reblogs are welcome to support, drop a request if you like, they're always open! ❤️🫡

Warnings: fluff, dirty talk, praise, fingering, use of AAVE, cussing, angst, mention of neglect, use of the n-word, rough sex, unprotected sex, head(fem receiving) consensual for both parties, confession, PWP, pet names, sibling rivalry.

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair @satoruya @planetblaque

@playgurlxoxo @naj-ay444

@becauseimswagman1 @jazziejax

@beenathembo @brattyfics

@hxneyclouds @henneseyhoe

@yassbishimvintage

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @nayaesworld @ovohanna24

@novahreign @writingsbytee @avoidthings @kimuzostar @slippinninque @keyera-jackson @theblacklewinsky

@euphorichappiness10 @life-in-the-slut-house @caashmoneynae @miguelspvssy @liatreads @kaylaahisthebestest- @uniqueoutlierblog @dxddykenn

@mind-somewhere-else

@kindofaintrovert

@lady-olive-oil @23jammy @musicisme333  @saturnville @enchantedillumination  @mogul93 @theereina @uzumaki-rebellion @blyffe @fakxmbj @kumkaniudaku @ranikyani @mama-2001 @luckydaye777

—————

Your gaze drifted to your niece Kailey through the rearview mirror, where she sat in the backseat, radiating pure joy. Her bright smile lit up her face, and her raven hair was intricately styled into box braids, each adorned with colorful pink and white beads that jingled softly with every movement.

The sunlight spewed through the window, casting a warm glow on her smooth brown skin, making her look as if she was glowing with anticipation.

You chuckled lightly before almost driving when the traffic light turned red, Kailey was always so excited about going to school, learning and seeing her new best friend, Melissa.

“Someone’s excited huh?” You hummed with a grin, before your eyes flickered back to the road.

“Yeah, I get to see my best friends today, Melissa, we share cute stickers and play games, Toby and I always trade Scooby Doo fruit snacks too!” Kailey exclaimed, looking at you with a smile.

Damn, you remember those Scooby fruit snacks in middle school through high school. You made a mental note to buy a plethora of them when you went grocery shopping for you and Kailey.

Also, make a mental note to call your sister for the umpteenth time but she never picked up the damn phone. It was never “hello, how are you?” it was always “Has Kailey been fed yet?” as if her child was a pet, not a human.

“It’s good to have friends you can have fun with and trust Kai, and we get to spend the weekend together again,” You sang playfully, watching her grin.

It appeared that today's children had a tendency to cycle through best friends as easily as one might change outfits—discarding old friendships with casual indifference, treating them as if they were nothing more than disposable items.

“I like spending time with you more than Mommy, she never asked how my day was, never checked on me, nothing,” Kailey mumbled under her breath.

Your grip tightened on the steering wheel at the softness of her voice, the sadness that you wanted to destroy and let it not come near Kailey or you.

Why did Mariah have to be such a bitch? How to have a child if you were going to put her through this? Why have sex without condoms if you know that you're going to be a bad parent—-

“Green light, auntie!” Kailey exclaimed with a giggle.

Her voice brought you back into reality as you made a left turn through the highway. The faint sounds of cars beeping horns and passing through, prickled at you. Almost making your eye twitch.

In vibrant Miami, life was a balancing act; you juggled three jobs that defined your chaotic yet fulfilling routine. By day, you transformed looks as a passionate hair stylist, and by night, you served drinks and meals as a part-time waitress.

In between those roles, you played the pivotal part of chauffeur and auntie, dutifully driving your niece, Kailey, from her home to school and back again. Kailey often stayed at your house, sometimes for days, often for nights at a time.

Meanwhile, your sister, Mariah, was perpetually busy with what she claimed was a thriving career at a prestigious corporate firm, one that left little room in her life for the needs of her daughter.

Mariah’s relentless ambition drove her to prioritize her desire to climb the corporate ladder—her sights set firmly on the role of CEO—over the maternal responsibilities that came with raising a child.

In her attempts to reclaim a life unmarred by motherhood, she became increasingly neglectful of Kailey, and this deep-seated frustration gnawed at you.

You couldn't shake the looming comparisons to the character Toni Childs from the TV show *Girlfriends*: rude, manipulative, and consumed by her own desires.

Clearly, she cared for Kailey and raised her well, but it was apparent that she eagerly anticipated your arrival to take her child, allowing her some personal time. However, children are perceptive and can sense when something isn't right.

“Auntie Y/N, is mommy going to be home when I get back?” Kailey asked, her voice laced with a hint of worry.

You glanced back at her, your heart melting at her innocent expression, “No, baby. She won't be home. I can't lie to you when I tell you that she’s not doing a job, i'm making that money so we can have fun, right?”

You understood Kailey's feelings at her age because your mom acted the same way when you were young.

You supported your sister while your aunt took on the parenting role and told you both that sometimes parents can be awful and may not prioritize you. She wanted to reassure you that you weren't alone in this.

The car came to a complete stop in the elementary parking lot and you killed the engine, pressing the button, hearing the crisp clicks of the locks unlocking. You stepped out while closing the door behind yourself, opening Kailey’s door for her, grabbing her hand as she jumped out.

After letting Kailey out of the car, her tiny shoes clicked on the concrete. You quickly held out your hand out as she gripped yours tight, “Are you for school?”you asked with a smile.

“Yes, I am, I can't see my friends and hang out with you,” She replied back.

“Have a great day okay? I love you pooh bear,”

“I will, you have a great day too, Auntie Y/N!”

Kailey ran into your arms, enveloping you in a tight, warm hug, you kissed her forehead and gently put her down.

As you observed the cheerful brown-skinned girl dash off with her friends, they made their way toward the double doors that swung open, by their favorite teacher. Ms. Wilson, her skin similar to a butterscotch hard candy in your grandmother's purse.

Standing by the doors, Ms. Wilson, framed her face, her curly pixie cut was in a shade of chocolate brown. She wore a light blue collared tee, paired elegantly with a diamond-patterned pencil skirt just below her knees. Her black heels clicked softly against the floor as she moved.

With a wave of her hand and a friendly smile directed at you, she created an inviting atmosphere, prompting you to respond with a kind wave and a warm smile in return.

“Thanks for everything, Ms. Wilson!”

“Of course, dear! I'm glad to always help!”

You were happy to have the same teacher growing up and now Kailey has that, a teacher that cared.

You turned to spot a recognizable tall man with locs, his brown skin glistening in the heat. He wore a grey t-shirt and grey shorts that hung loosely around his bare legs, while his crisp white Air Forces clicked rapidly against the sidewalk.

His daughter Melissa tugged on his hand. She had her locs in pigtails, brown skinned, dressed in a pink dress and sneakers.

It had been ages since you last laid eyes on him at that vibrant cookout your family hosted five months ago.

Hearing those toxic stories about them and yours made you cringe, the back and forth between them, and honestly you remember one night when you smoked weed with him and blurted out that Mia didn't deserve him. He deserves better.

Once he heard that, he held on to what you said. Keeping it tugged in the depths of his mind like you passed him a secret love note in college, avoiding the prying gaze from your classmates and professor.

And you never heard him speak of Mia’s name ever again, as if she was Lord Voldemort from Harry Potter. He only discussed his music-producing career and his daughter, Melissa.

The sun was shining brightly, and laughter filled the air as your daughter and niece enjoyed their playdate amidst the lively cookout.

Your aunt Cassie, was also the matchmaker, had invited Lamont, knowing that the two of you had a genuine friendship that she believed could grow into something more.

Her strong disapproval of Mia was evident and has been there from the start. Only fueling her desire for a connection between you and Lamont.

That man was fine, fine.

You knew about the complicated relationship between Lamont and Mia, who have a daughter named Melissa, and you only restyled Lamont's locs; he paid you the substantial fee you asked for.

“Come on, Daddy! I don't want to be late for school,” Melissa exclaimed, tugging onto the hem of his shirt.

You hadn't seen him in a while; life had gotten busy, but this moment felt nostalgic.

He approached you, his daughter tugging at his arm impatiently. “I swear she’s gonna pull something else if I don't get there faster,”

“Tell her to take it easy, it’s just school,” You replied with a chuckle, smiling at him.

Lamont chuckled and shook his head, “Not when she’s ready to see her best friend Kaliey and Toby, also its arts and crafts,” he replied, rolling his eyes dramatically.

His eyes locked with yours again, and you felt the tension rise between you. “You know how these kids get,”

You laughed, the sound light and airy, as you watched his daughter talk lively about her plans for the day. It was hard not to notice the admiration in Lamont's eyes as he listened to her, a proud father in his element.

“Daddy!”

“Okay, okay,”

You watched them walk inside, the doors closed shut with a loud click and the bell rang immediately after, moments and moments later. You were brought back to reality by the familiar sound of sneakers scuffing against the pavement.

You turned to see Lamont walking out of the school, his tall frame striding toward you with a look of satisfaction, you felt butterflies in your stomach. That feeling you couldn't shake when you were around him.

“Y/N!” he called out, and your heart did a little flip.

“Hey, everything okay?” You asked, curiosity crept up as your eyes locked with his.

“Yeah, just wanted to catch you before you left, I was thinkin’ maybe..you could help me out with my locs,” he asked, running a hand through his locs. Y

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile spreading across your face, “Oh? You're asking for a hair appointment, huh? Is that your way of saying you want to spend time with me?” you asked with a head tilt.

“Well, yeah…I mean, I wouldn't mind some of some of your company today, just us?” He said nervously, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

Was he that nervous around you or was it just the Miami heat?

“I wouldn't mind your company either, I can definitely retwist your locs,” you replied with a smile, keeping your tone light.

“Cool, can I ride with’chu in your car?” he asked again, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yes,” you hummed in response, leading the way to your car. You unlocked the doors, and he slid into the passenger seat with a grin as you both settled in.

As you pulled out of the parking lot, you stole a glance at him. Driving off the school and made a right turn on the street.

The luxurious houses of the neighborhood flashed by, side by side, sprawling out well-trimmed green grass and manicured gardens. Lamont gazed out the window, impressed by the level of opulence that surrounded the ambiance.

Parking into the driveway carefully, killing the engine. Unlocking the doors and stepping out. “Nice neighborhood,” Lamont commented, his eyes roaming the place.

“Yeah, my aunt left me the house after she found another place to live, it's a bit much for me, I make it work,” you replied with a shoulder shrug.

“I can see why you like it, it's peaceful,” He nodded, his eyes still scanning the area.

Both of you walked over to the front door, and you pulled out the keys. Once inside the house, you took off your shoes, and Lamont followed suit, setting his by the door.

As the two of you settled onto the couch, you grabbed the comb and twisted hair cream. Putting the soft pillow between your feet, "Sit," you said, your eyes on him.

Lamont did as you told him, you grabbing the twisting hair cream and light green comb from atop the dresser, starting to retwist his locs carefully with skill.

“How come we never took that chance?” he asked you with a soft tone.

Your eyes widened at what he was saying, you were a bit confused. “What do you mean?”

“Us, you and me,” He recited with a serious yet soft tone.

As you finished the last few locs on his head, you pondered on it deeply. You wanted to know the same thing too.

“Umm…maybe because we were busy, you were still with Mia, I've been watching over my niece since my sister doesn't want to do it, life..” You confessed to him.

Once you were done with retwisting his locs, he stood up and sat beside you on the couch, giving you a serious yet softened expression, as if he had something on his mind that he has been holding it so long.

“I really like you, I want you to be my girl and I'm sorry that I—”

“Lamont…i get it, I like you too but can we make this work? You’ve got Mia, and I’ve got Kailey, I do want this to work,”

“I believe we can, you trust me right?” Lamont asked you, his hand atop yours, his thumb swiped over your palm.

“Yes, I trust you, Lamont, you're mine right?”

“All yours, baby,”

Your heart raced as he gently laid you back on the couch, their kisses growing deeper and more urgent. Each of their clothes taken off, tossed and littered across the bedroom floor.

He positioned himself between your legs with his hands tight on your hips, and rubbing his tip against your folds, your wetness coating his dick perfectly, "L-Lamont...fuck me..please.." you whined, moving your hips with him, hearing soft squelching sounds filling the room.

Lamont grinned in response before leaning down, "A'ight, since you're direct tonight, I'll give this dick," he teased, pushing himself inside you as she wanted from him, moaning wildly. Your pussy was to die for, and Lamont is gonna kill for it.

Lamont pressed his lips back to yours, rocking his hips into you at a rough pace. The bed creaked underneath their weight with every thrust, your nails felt a trail of marks on his back, "Oh fuck! Lamont!" you mewled, tears burning through your eyelids. Your arms wrapped around his neck, kissing him again.

He hoisted you upwards to ensure that you faced him forward in his lap to ride him, Lamont hissed sharply and his eyes fluttered closed, a low 'fuck' left his lips as he watched your face contort with pleasure. Neither of them wanted the night to end yet, they wanted more rounds to make up for every day that they didn't see each other.

"Shit..right there!" you mewled loudly, the words escaping you, you swivel your hips gently against him, riding his dick with skill. You forced your eyes open, meeting his loving gaze, moving with your pace. "Right here, baby?" he hummed, hitting that sweet spot repeatedly.

"Damn, baby.." he groaned in her ear, his praise gave you an intense thrill, he utterly filled you up. You started to vigorously bounce on him, feeling waves of pleasure coursing through your body. "That feels so fuckin good, more," you whined again, your nails scratched into his skin harder as you let out increasingly inhumane moans.

His fingers tracing the stretch marks on your ass, every delicate mark was a work of art to him, and Lamont felt a rush of gratitude for the beauty before him, your fingers tangled through his locs, and he watched your essence spill all over his dick and drilling his hips upwards, "You're always this wet for me?" Lamont rasped, licking his lips.

"Y-Yes! it's..f-for y-you!" You stutteringly wails, your eyes rolled back. Lamont's hand delivered a firm smack on your ass and she hissed. "Faster.." he demanded, watching the woman bounce with his merciless pace, you only let out a plethora of unholy moans.

Every thrust felt loving, meaningful and that's what he wanted you to feel, trailing kisses along your neck, worshipping your body with every touch, kiss and stare.

"Don't stop..harder..please!" you stammered desperately, biting your lip. Your slick walls hugged tightly around him as he pushed harder, his hands gripping your asscheeks. "I won't, I missed you, you know that?" he groaned in your ear.

He withdrew and swiftly turned you onto your stomach before he finished, carefully sliding back inside as you opened your mouth silently, "Y-yes! I-i missed you so much!" you cried out, feeling him push further and his thrusts becoming more forceful with desire, he took charge as each motion drew breathy gasps from her, fingers clenching the blanket.

“I missed you more,” he said, swiveling his hips, watching her squirm underneath him, you could barely respond, but that's the part she loves.

You loved to feel every inch, so lost in the sensation of him filling you up completely. "Lamont, I-I d-don't w-wanna c-cum—-" you gasped sharply, your head fell onto the pillow, feeling the knot tighten within her stomach, his pelvis meeting her ass after every thrust, making a clapping sound similar to a gunshot.

With each stroke, he pushed her closer to the edge. His hands gripped her waist. "I know, baby, one more time for me?" Lamont grunted, you squirmed beneath him, sending jolts of pleasure through you, Back arching and his palm spanked your ass again, he watched sticky strings of your essence break between them.

"Yes...only for you, i'm-gonna cum!" you replied, your voice strained with effort. Leaving you breathless and squeezing your eyes shut. His thrusts turned sloppy, and sporadic, both of them were so close, "Fuck, me too,"

Feeling her climax gushed on him, Lamont followed suit, pulling out and his warm cum spilling forth on the couch as he groaned, "Just like that," he breathed, their bodies entwined in a blissful haze. You felt him pulse inside, as he felt your heartbeat too, They both shuddered and he pulled out after, collapsing beside her.

Their naked bodies laid side by side, Lamont pulled her close, you rested your head against his chest. Hearing his heartbeat with your, with their backs against the sheets, breathing heavily and chests raising and falling in sync, chuckling lightly.

"Lamont, you have no idea how many nights I thought about this moment." you said, kissing lips twice. Still riding the high of their connection.

"But I wanna another but I gotta pick up my niece..” you confessed, tracing shaped on his arm. Her heart swelled with love.

You stood from the couch, gathering clothes, and taking a shower. Then you and Lamont walked out of your house, settling inside your car, driving off.

Knowing that your friendship was becoming more, it was something you wanted for so long. Lamont kissed your cheek, and said “I'm all yours, don't worry,”

———-

[gomzdrawfr]

I may have lost the plot

but idgaf

[really-fucking-sleepy]

Bros NOT okay

[lysodesigns]

Wasteland relationships are complex.

[syckubota]

misc sketchbook stuff, from the past few months. can you believe it guys ? christmas, just a week away ! christmas is in a week! woo hoo! I am so happy about this information.

cartooning + loose sketches, with val and hancock

some pipey...

maccready & then him getting jumpscared by solsu who was in the middle of doing himself up

a 'ghoulsha'-looking gal, and some outfit concepts for a character that certainly doesn't look like anybody from anything. heehoo !

[somethingaboutmint]

Little animation i did......and the živa and mac #deeplore if ur inch rested ˘˘˘˘˘˘˘˘

Mac and Živa have a super complicated relationship built on mutual pining/yearning but doing absolutely fuck all about it for like over a year, which is around how much time it takes Živa to reach the institute. Once Živa is actually at the institute she goes MIA for around a month with nobody knowing what happened or when she'll be back which ends up being Maccready's horrible no good month of 0 news about Živa whereabouts. Živa spends that month getting acquainted to the institute and her old man son and she is absolutely fucking miserable. WORST depressive spiral of her life. She feels like she should like the place but the constant infantilization by her own son aswell as the atrocities the institute is casually commiting make her go bananas. The sudden contrast of the institute compared to her wasteland life where she finally met people she really connected with kind of makes her realize what she really values in life and after a lot of begging Živa is finally let back out into the commonwealth. Maccready is overjoyed to see her safe and Živa feels like she can finally fully focus onto the relationship she wants to have instead of holding onto ghosts from her past......only to find out Maccready's kind of about to dip. He held out in the Commonwealth for as long as he did cuz he really did want to talk to her one last time before he leaves, but his current goal is to return to Washington for Duncan. He doesn't want to subject Duncan to the trip alone without even knowing if he's well enough to handle it and he figures that with his son healthy there's not much tying him to the 'wealth overall....aside from Živa. It'd be this tragic moment of a love that escaped them both if Živa didn't immediately go "fuck it then" and decide to just leave with him LMAO but yknow. it was sad for a second. And then they do come back eventually cuz the Commonwealth overall is less hostile to human life and is easier to raise a kid in (plus Duncan turns out to be able to handle the trip just fine). The songs name is Eu sem Voce btw.

[distractedrighter]

Absolutely wrecked thinking about that fo4 “tunnel snakes rule” maccready line because it makes it canon that LW brought Butch to little lamplight and IM NOT EMOTIONAL, YOU ARE

[shinox]

Fo4 doodles

love a man with an appetite 🤌