#i don’t get hangovers from drinking i get them from having mental breakdowns

[cjrights]

I’m actually so glad I don’t really get hangovers cuz I can barely remember a thing from last night lmao. I wasn’t even out long but someone needs to cut me off cuz why was I chugging every drink

This is very embarrassing but according to my friends I was talking about how amazing you and Alora are and they were very confused cuz they have no idea who you are😭

I’m so glad I didn’t say anything that embarrassing on here but omg my typing, thing is that’s how I normally type but when I’m sober I go through and correct everything so I don’t embarrass myself but drunk me didn’t think of that. I’m also very surprised I remembered to put my emoji lol

One thing I am glad about is my dress didn’t get ruined!!!!! Only one drink got spilled but it’s come off in the wash so that’s a win

I hope you had a good evening and slept well my darling xxx

-🧃

my memory gets really spotty when i drink so i get it lmfaoaoaoao

stop that’s so cute omg 😭😭😭 i be talking to my friends about you and alora too and they’re like “😃. we don’t care” and im like “idc that you don’t care!! that’s why i like them more than you… 😒😒”

HAHAHAH wife’s disease gets to you too?? it gets me sometimes too nothing to be ashamed of!!

that’s good!! save the dress 🙏🏻🙏🏻

thank you baby — idk if you saw but me and twin were going THROUGH it so my evening was… interesting!! also i did NOT sleep well i slept like a brick because the bozo im sharing a hotel room with (my friend) decided to SNORE LIKE A HORNNN i was gonna have a mental breakdown

[episode-o]

I’m so grateful Jara’s so patient with me. A one week long mental break down and I come out the other side still having my partner, still having my roommate, still having my job, and (probably) still having my friends. I did gain a therapist though. That’s probably good. I mean it was absolutely gaslighting when they said it to me but Mars was right. I absolutely need someone to talk to about my anxiety. It’s becoming a hindrance to everything I’ve worked for. It’s such crazy irony that finally when I’m in a stable spot in my life is when I have one of my worst mental breakdowns in a long damn time. I’m still getting over some of the paranoia now. At least the suicidal ideation is gone. Mostly.

I suppose this is a separate issue but I just feel so lonely recently. Jamie’s got a partner that they’re spending all of their time with, Maris got her little girlfriend and has forgotten all about me, Jara is hard to get a hold of unless I’m right next to them, Ocha’s in finals season. I’ve dropped everyone in the friend group who were super shallow party people. It’s not like I did anything I kinda just ghosted. All my coworkers are leaving and don’t even feel the use in getting to know the new ones any more.

Recently it feels like I can’t ever get a work in anyways. Someone’s always talking over me. I go to lunch with Taj and Mari and Jamie and I got interrupted so much I stayed mostly silent through the whole thing. I invited Ocha over and Jamie happened to come home and I still can’t get a work in edgewise to my friend that I invited over. I feel like I’m always getting spoken over at shift drinks. I don’t even bother talking when I’m hanging around Jara and Ethan it just doesn’t feel like my place.

This week has been good luck so far in making up for last week. I was able to talk through and figure things out better with Jara. I’m going to lunch with Mari tomorrow and I’ll be able to thank her for being patient with me and hopefully assuage some of my paranoia that’s still lingering. I’ll get to spend one of my last weeks with my coworkers all together before two of them leave. And then hopefully next week I have the whole week off.

It feels like a hangover really. Like the few days after you finish a mental breakdown. Like it’s still kinda there but it’s not and for some reason you have a really bad head ache and should probably just drink some water and take a nap. But if there’s one thing I know about myself is that I’m great at bouncing back from hangovers. I’m sure the loneliness will go away soon. And the paranoia. I just have to give myself time to heal.

I’ll probably be fine.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Cult Girl (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 8

Sorry if this one is a bit shorter. I didn't want to make part 7 insanely long so I just split the story in a way that made sense to me. Y/n lets Hannibal take care of the mess and narrowly avoids a mental breakdown in a CVS.

Trigger warning: blood, violence, gaslighting, ⚠️emetophobia⚠️

You stood up from your seat, your brain refusing to process what just happened.

"Oh look." You said, pointing down. "Her face landed in the glass and there's blood everywhere."

Hannibal casually glanced over the table. The ends of his mouth turned up slightly. "So there is."

The reality of the situation was just starting to set in. You took a deep breath in, expecting to scream, but nothing came out. Instead, you finished your glass of wine. 

Noticing your distress, Hannibal crossed the floor and took a knee beside her. He pressed his fingers against her neck. 

“She’s alive.” He assured you. “For now.” 

You didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed, and the indecision made you panic even more. “So what do we do now? What do I do now?” 

“Well,” Hannibal stood up. “She’s pretty severely concussed and losing a lot of blood. We could call an ambulance. With proper medical care and immediate action, she’ll probably live.” 

You froze in your spot and stared blankly off into the distance. You didn’t feel overly compelled to call for help. You were too overwhelmed with emotion to move much, anyway. You felt your soul leaving your body. 

“...But I take it by your inaction,” Hannibal piped up. “That you’re open to an alternate plan?” 

“Huh?” You snapped out of your trance. 

Hannibal closed the space between you. He cupped your face in his hand, his thumb running comfortingly along your cheek. “Do you trust me?” 

You didn’t fully know what you were agreeing to, but you didn’t care. “Of course I do.” 

“Then listen to me very carefully, [Y/N].” Hannibal’s voice hardened with severity. “Go upstairs and change back into your day clothes. Then, I want you to drive to the pharmacy and withdraw some cash from the ATM. Then stay in the store until I call you, understood?” 

You nodded. 

“Go now.” He ordered, pulling away from you. 

You sprinted up the stairs, tore off your gown and pulled the nearest pair of pants over your legs in one fluid motion. You grabbed a shirt and a hoodie hanging over a chair and snatched up your car keys. In a moment, you were out the door and behind the wheel, speeding away from the crime scene. 

The pharmacy was the only place open so late at night. You pulled into the parking lot and selected one of the many vacant spots. You took your key out of the ignition and prepared yourself for an onslaught of emotion. But it didn’t come. 

You sat in the driver’s seat, replaying the scene in your head over and over again. One second, the bottle was in your hand, the next, it was breaking every bone in Theresa’s face. You could have very well taken a life that day. But it wasn’t an innocent person on the road, it was Theresa. The same Theresa that put Nair in her sister’s shampoo and lobbied against child labor laws. And she died the way she lived; running her stupid mouth, waiting for someone to shut her up. 

You were more terrified of Hannibal's response than anything else. He seemed too enthusiastic to cover your tracks for you. Like he was returning to some favorite game he hadn't picked up in a while.

You shuffled across the parking lot to the ATM. Why did Hannibal need cash? Was he going to pay someone off? He didn't specify how much he needed. Was $100 enough to bribe the police? You settled on $100.

The bright fluorescent lights scalded your eyes. You needed to look like you were there for a reason. Grabbing a basket, you tried to distract yourself by going through the shopping list for your apartment.

Toilet paper, hand sanitizer, and body wash. Pilar is allergic to coconut oil so we need to check the ingredients. You found yourself narrating the shopping list in your head, even though it was one you ran down hundreds of times. You knew which brand of body wash to get Pilar, but you were grabbing random soaps and thumbing through the ingredients anyway.

On your way to the cough syrups, you felt a terrible pain in your stomach. You caved around the pain, regretting devouring that pot-au-feu so quickly. When you opened your eyes again, you saw them: the pregnancy tests.

No. You said to yourself. I am not going to keep Theresa alive by letting her get into my head.

As if on cue, another pang of pain reverberated from your core. It was bad enough Theresa had you doubting your memories, now she had you doubting your own body. She couldn’t possibly know your own body better than you, and she was out of line to suggest so.

But, whether you wanted to accept it or not, Theresa had planted the seed in your brain. You wanted so badly to claw it out with your bare hands. The most painless route, though, was to purchase one of those tests and prove her wrong.

In the meantime, you assured yourself she was wrong. You hadn't missed a day of birth control since the tenth grade. Regardless, the pregnancy test in your basket weighed a ton.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, sending you flying out of your skin. The lone cashier took notice.

"You okay, miss?"

You nodded, though you were so clearly not okay. With a trembling hand, you brought the phone up to your ear. "Hello?"

"It's safe now, darling." Hannibal said. "You can come home."

He said it so candidly, it was obvious that he'd done it before.

"Okay, baby, I'll see you at home." You answered, a little too loudly. As the words left your mouth you felt stupid. You'd never once called Hannibal 'baby' and you sure as hell weren't gonna start today.

You brought your items to the cashier, the pain in your stomach worsening. You made a point to waddle back to the medicine aisle and grab some painkillers before the cashier could finish ringing everything up.

By the time you were back behind the wheel, you were fighting the urge to drive off a cliff. The pain in your stomach was unbearable and you had no idea where it was coming from. It had to be psychosomatic. Your body was compensating for the shortcomings of your brain. You knew you were supposed to feel guilty but you just didn't, and your body was punishing you for it.

At home you were clutching the toilet, vomiting your guts out. Hannibal was at your side, gently stroking your hair. Again, acting as candidly as if he were nursing a hangover.

"I'm so sorry." You croaked, lifting your head from the toilet. "I don't know what this is. I didn't even drink that much."

"Don't apologize." He said, calmly. He stood up, filled a glass with water and offered it to you. "You're overwhelmed. It's natural."

"You say this like you've done this before." You joked, though you knew you were right. You clutched the glass with both hands, the coolness feeling good against your hot skin.

Hannibal took a knee beside you. His finger found a blade of your hair and tucked it behind your ear. "Now, we're not going to tell anyone about this, are we?"

He was fully aware of how intimidating he really was.

"I would never." You traced an x over your heart. "Swear on my grandfather's grave."

"Good girl." He traced your jawline with his finger. "Your intuition is as sharp as ever, I see."

You took a long sip of water. "Huh?"

"Don't insult your own intelligence, you know what I mean."

"You've hidden bodies before." You inferred, sitting up.

"I've done more than hide bodies, love, and I think you know that." Hannibal corrected.

Your first instinct was to stand up and get more wine, but moving too fast made you dizzy. "...so did it hurt?"

Hannibal raised an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"

"When Theresa died." You said, quietly. "Did she hurt at all?"

This pleased and surprised him to hear. "No. She was so heavily concussed, I doubt she felt anything."

You frowned. "Damn."

"Did you have something else in mind?"

Theresa's last words rung over in your head. 'I didn't think you had it in you'. The thoughts flooding your mind, about how Theresa would go were it up to you, assured you that you did in fact have it in you.

"I would have liked to see her suffer a little." You muttered under your breath.

"I'll keep that in mind for next time." He smiled and offered you his hand. "Come on, love. Let's get you cleaned up."

[ackerslut]

we're living in a powder keg (and giving off sparks)

Fandom: Star Trek Lower Decks

Rating: M

AO3

Beckett Elizabeth Mariner wakes up with the absolute unshakable knowledge that she has done something unspeakable.

“Oh my fucking god.”

On the pillow across from hers, Brad opens his eyes. He blinks once or twice, squinting at the obnoxious sunlight streaming through the blinds. It creates bars of light slanting across the bed and floor. There’s a brief moment of confusion where he stares up at her owlishly before he groans and rolls over, burying his face in the pillow. Clearly not shaken at all by the unspeakable horror coursing through Beckett’s veins.

“Oh. My. Fucking. God .”

“Please lower your voice,” he mutters, voice muffled almost beyond comprehension. Almost. “I think I have a migraine. Or a hangover.” A pause. “Or both .”

“Oh god oh god oh god-”

Beckett’s comm begins chirping on the nightstand, derailing her mental breakdown. She lunges for it, flips the device open and answers the call. “Yeah?”

“Beckett Mariner, where in god’s name are you?” her mother’s voice shrills across the tiny speaker. Not exactly the distraction she was looking for, but she’ll take it. “I’ve been calling you for hours. I swear to god if you’re in prison again-”

“I’m not in prison!” she hisses. “And that was one time!”

“Six times. In the last month.”

“I- mom -”

“We’re in Wvaxuv,” Brad snaps, snatching the comm out of her hand. “We’ll be there in fifteen. Over.” He snaps the comm shut, throws it at the nightstand on her side, and flops facedown into his pillow again. Beckett, both impressed by Brad hanging up on his captain and horrified by him hanging up on her mom , stares at him, mouth agape.

“You just hung up on my mom.”

“Mffffmmn.”

“My mom , Bradward.”

“Mm.”

“Your Captain .”

This does get a reaction out of Brad, but not quite the one she expected? He peeks one eye out of where he’s currently trying to become one with the bedding. It’s cute, in like a cat-like way. Which is exactly where Beckett is trying to keep her thoughts from going. There is nothing cute or nice about waking up in the same bed as Brad. There’s not.

“I think I’ll care about that when I’m sober,” he says, at last.

“You don’t care that you just hung up on my mom, but you know what city we’re in?” Beckett raises an eyebrow, both impressed and unimpressed. She contains multitudes.

“I always know where I am,” he mumbles, turning his face back into the pillow. “Also, it literally says in the tourist brochure on your nightstand.”

Beckett grins and then stops herself. “Okay, Mister ‘I always know where I am,’ how long will it actually take us to get back to the Cerritos ?”

“ Ten minutes if we get dressed like right now.”

She stops, face heating at the reminder that oh yeah they’re both fucking naked under the duvet. Beckett carefully inches away, toward her end of the bed, just in case. She casts a quick look around the room and locates her clothes on the floor, near the bathroom.

“Don’t look,” she warns. Threatens?

Brad gives her a thumbs up, seemingly content in continuing his faceplant. Beckett decides that she can trust him not to sneak a peak--not that it mattered at this point but she was not thinking about that --and hurriedly dives toward them and gathers them up. She throws them on the bathroom floor and slams the door shut.

“Oh my god.” Beckett stares at the yellowing tiled floor. “Oh my god .” She turns on the sink, cupping the freezing water in her hands and splashing it onto her face. It does little to clear her mind, but it does help with the hangover nausea. She grips the sides of the sink, breathing in and out slowly. After a few moments of this, Beckett finally dares to look in the mirror.

She’s looked worse. Especially after a night of getting blackout drunk. Her hair is down, out of its usual high ponytail. It’s also completely wrecked, she notes, running her fingers through it to pull out the tangles. She looks a little sweaty and her eyes are bloodshot with dark circles rimming them, but nothing about her appearance suggests that she did anything stupid or dangerous last night. All of her limbs and toes are accounted for. All things considered, it’s not that bad.

Well, except for the trail of hickeys going down her neck. Jesus , she thinks, straining her head around to see how far they go. Nevermind, she doesn’t really want to know. That’s definitely going to be a problem to examine later. Much, much later.

She quickly pulls her pants on, studiously ignoring her sore muscles and the purple bruises in other places besides her neck and shoulder. Fuck . She can hear her comm chirping again through the bathroom door, but doesn’t make any attempts to hurry and answer it. From the sound of things--or lack thereof--Brad isn’t making an effort either. He probably decided, as she has, that they can get reemed out when they actually get back on the ship.

Beckett pulls her tank top over her head, frowning when she realizes that it does absolutely nothing to hide the bruises on her neck. Where the fuck is her jacket? She pops back into the bedroom.

“Where’s my jacket?”

“You threw it in the Gezorvazors’ fountain.”

“And you didn’t stop me? Dude, that was my favorite jacket.”

He makes a vague hand gesture, still face down on the bed. “You can borrow mine.”

“Yours isn’t nice like mine is,” she snaps, picking his weird hoodie/jean jacket hybrid. “Mine is leather, and badass, and-” She slips his jacket on, pulling the collar up to hide the hickeys. “-And. Oh shit this is comfortable.” The fabric is soft in the way that clothes only get after you’ve owned them for years and years and ruined the fabric with too much fabric softener and shit. Also, it’s a little big around her shoulders, and Beckett’s kind of a slut for comfy clothes that are too big for her. “You’re not getting this back,” she realizes out loud.

Brad finally lifts his head off the pillow, eyes zeroing in on her. His face is unreadable. “Huh.”

“What?”

Her comm chirps again. Brad picks it up and throws it to her. “Call your mom.” He jerks his head toward the balcony on the other side of the suite. “Or don’t. Either way, we’re gonna be late.” He makes to get out of bed, which is Beckett’s cue to get the fuck out of there . She escapes onto the balcony which is less of a balcony and more of a ledge.

She flips the comm open and answers it.

“ Your mom is flipping out,” D’Vana says. “She thinks you went AWOL and kidnapped Boimler again.”

“Her thinking that is a thousand times better than what actually happened,” Beckett replies, relieved. “She’s not leaving, is she?”

“ Without you? Fat chance.” There’s a pause. “So are you gonna tell me what did happen-”

“Just a long night of drinking and bad decisions. I’ll see you back on the Cerritos, ” she swiftly interrupts. “If my mom asks, everything is fine. Don’t worry.” She hangs up over D’Vana’s sputtering protests. “Shit.” What was she going to tell D’Vana. What was she going to tell her mom?

A gust of cool wind blows through the street, cutting straight through her. She wraps the jacket tightly around her. It smells like Brad. “ Shit. ”

_____

Beckett sits in her mom’s ready room with a paper cup of coffee heating her hands. The smell isn’t doing great things to her nauseous stomach, but the warmth radiating through her fingers is soothing and the caffeine is knocking out most of her headache. Turn of the century and there still isn’t a definitive hangover cure for humans. Go figure.

Her mother’s slightly raised eyebrow is both a question and a criticism. She has too much tact to say that Beckett looks like shit, but they both know Beckett looks like shit. Damnit.

“I’m not even going to ask,” Freeman says at last, rubbing her temple with two fingers. “Just please stop violating regulations while on shore leave.”

Beckett wants to ask if this means she can violate regulations while off shore leave, but feels too shitty to get into that argument. “You got it, Cap’n,” she says, instead of emoting. She gives her mom a lazy, two fingered salute.

“Also, please remember to keep up with your birth control, I don’t really need any Beckett/Boimler hybrids running around on this ship-”

“Literally what the fuck -” Beckett all but shrieks, voice way to loud for the hangover she’s sporting. “ Why would you even say-”

Her mom looks pointedly at Beckett’s bruised neck. “I’m not a complete idiot, kiddo.”

“Oh my god,” Beckett buries her face in her hands. “Oh my god .”

Freeman rolls her eyes, flicking her fingers at her daughter. “Yeah, yeah, I know, it’s my job to embarrass you. Now get out of my sight. And ask T’Ana for a hangover cure.”

This has Beckett sitting up. “Wha- T’Ana said there wasn’t a hangover cure .”

Flat look. “Beckett. What century is this?”

Beckett scowls at the desk. “Ripped off for five years and counting,” she mumbles.

_____

Avoiding Brad was harder than she thought it was going to be.

(Not that she’s avoiding him. She’s not.)

(She totally is. )

When he first came back to the Cerritos --almost two years ago now?--it had been easy. He’d been in a state of remorse/guilt, and had basically allowed Beckett to call the shots. This was generally considered a bad idea by absolutely everyone, because it meant that Beckett swung dangerously between watching his every move like a crazed stalker to having nothing to do with him. It had accumulated in Sam and D’Vana going the old-fashioned route by locking them in a storage closet.

Things had eventually ironed out after that. Nothing was ever quite the same--it couldn’t be with Brad’s newfound confidence and Beckett’s decision to see him as an equal rather than someone to mentor--but it was better that way. They worked better that way. At least until Beckett had fucked everything up by having drunk sex with her best friend of four years.

So here Beckett was, hiding in medbay because she thought she might have seen Brad walk by.

“You gotta admit, this is weird, even for you,” D’Vana says.

Beckett peaks over the biobed. “He’s gone, right?”

“Honey, what’s going on between you two? Do I need to fight him? I can totally fight him.”

“What?”

“I mean, the last time you were this mad at him was because--”

“I’m not mad at him,” Beckett waves her off, not too keen on dredging up ancient history. Shitty ancient history at that. “Everything’s fine.”

“Everything’s fine,” D’Vana repeats dubiously. “Which is why you’ve been hiding in medbay--your least favorite place--all day. Instead of doing fun things, like moving everything in Ransom’s cabin a little to the left or putting extra espresso shots in T’Ana’s coffee.”

Beckett grins. “We should put extra espresso shots in T’Ana’s coffee.”

“You’re deflecting.”

“I’m not.”

“ So are.”

Beckett scowls. “Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?”

“I am, as in I will help you bury the body if need be, but as it stands there isn’t a body to bury and you’re in my way.”

“Rude!”

“Coward.”

“Killjoy.”

“ Both of you, out,” T’Ana snaps, from like 20 feet away. She’s not even looking at them, but one of her ears is swiveled in their direction.

D’Vana gives Beckett a dirty look, turning on her heel and marching out of the medbay. Beckett follows, more subdued.

“Seriously, you need to get your shit together,” D’Vana says, once she’s caught up to her. “I promise whatever happened between you and Brad isn’t as terrible as you’re thinking. It’s probably even fixable.”

“Real encouraging, bestie.”

“I try.” D’Vana gives her a friendly punch on the arm that’s probably going to bruise. “Now go find your man.”

_____

Becket does not, in fact, “go find her man.” First of all, because she doesn’t have one, but also because the idea of facing Brad right now is so mortifying--seriously what is she supposed to say? --that the thought makes her break out in hives.

(Not literally, but still.)

A couple more days of this has Sam and D’Vana returning to the tried and true method of locking Beckett and Brad in a storage closet to sort out their shit.

“If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it!” D’Vana shouts through the door.

Beckett flips her the bird, even though she can see, scowling at the door. “Fuck you, D’Vana Tendi!”

There is no response, meaning that her ex-friends have left her alone with her thoughts, Brad, and Brad’s very loud thoughts. Goddammit.

“Look, just say it,” Brad suddenly snaps after the longest, most awkward pause Beckett has ever had the misfortune to be a part of. His entire body is tenser than Beckett has seen in a hot minute. Probably since before he transferred back to the Cerritos.

“Say what?” she says back hotly, now not really sure if they’re about to argue about something, but also not one to back down from a fight.

“I don’t know-just. Whatever it is- just please. I’m tired, D’Vana’s tired--hell the whole ship is tired of this. So just.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Look, I know it was bad, I know that you regretted it.”

“I. What.”

“But, you’re also my best friend and I don’t want things to go back to how they were when. When I came back and you hated me and I was shitty to you and-” Brad stops messing up his hair. “Just say it was awful and we can forget it ever happened.”

Beckett steels herself as she finally admits: “I don’t remember it.”

It was Brad’s turn to go still and quiet.

“Brad--I. You know how I get when I’m drunk.” Beckett has never felt embarrassed by her drinking habits, but now she wonders if she should. Okay, she’s not, not really. But she was at least regretful that she had done something so stupid as fucking up one of her best relationships while intoxicated. Literally. “I don’t remember anything after the sixth drink,” she groans. “I think I was messing with your hair?”

“You said it was the color of jellyfish.”

She manages a weak smile. “Yeah.”

“And then I said jellyfish were translucent and have been extinct for over a thousand years on Earth so your point was redundant and that’s when you kissed me.”

“Oh.” Beckett wracks her memory. Nothing comes up. She doesn’t know if she feels proud or scared by the fact that she was the one to initiate whatever happened between them. “Was it. Good?”

“For me.” Brad shrugs, nonchalant in a way she wishes he weren’t. “Can’t really say if you liked it or not. Rest of the night is.” He makes a gesture with one hand. “Fuzzy.”

“But you remember more details than I do.” Beckett takes a step toward him.

He takes a step back as she crowds his space. Swallows. “Guess I do.”

“Was that good? What came after?” she asks, steadily, taking another step toward him.

His back hits the wall. He makes a little oof sound, maybe at the impact, but more likely at her question. “I-it was fuzzy ,” he reiterates, voice pitching up.

“Just answer the question, Bradward. I thought this was honesty hour for-”

“Yes it was good!” he snaps. “It was awesome, and earth-shattering, and all the stupid fucking cliches we both make fun of and mock together, and-and you didn’t care the next morning! Actually, no, you were fucking horrified-- so I panicked and--”

Beckett kisses him. It’s a short peck, hardly a brush of lips really, but enough to leave him gaping like a fish after. Kind of shocked, like a computer bluescreening. Goddamnit, he is cute.

“I. I- what .”

Beckett carefully leans in, brushing his hair out of his eyes with one hand--giving him time to opt out or push her away if he wants-- and kisses him again. This time she goes a bit more slowly, somehow coaxing his panicked mind into letting him kiss her back. Only for a moment, sadly. As soon as he begins softening against her, mouth opening slightly to kiss her back, he draws away, face disturbed. “Beck, what are you doing?” His voice is weak.

“Experimenting,” she replies, eyes quickly darting back and forth between his.

“ Experi -”

“I mean, there must be a reason I jumped straight from drunken makeout to lets fuck on our last night of shore leave. I’m just trying to find the missing puzzle piece.” She leans back in. Kisses him again. Pulls back almost immediately. “That means kiss me back, dumba-”

Brad cups her face and kisses her back. Like really kisses her back. Like tilts her face to the side until the angle is just right and slips his tongue in to slide against hers-

“Fuck,” Beckett says, when they draw back for air. “ Fuck.”

Brad drops his hands, but makes no move to pull out of her space. “Got enough data?” he asks sarcastically.

“I might need a larger sample size,” she says breathlessly, eyes darting back down to his lips.

“Well, feel free to go makeout with whomever-”

“Not that kind of sample size, dummy. I'm working with just one test subject, you see.” Her hand fingers the top button of his shirt almost thoughtfully. “My sample size needs to be bigger in quantity, not diversity.”

“ Beck- ” he whines.

“What, so you get to remember this awesome, showstopping one-night stand while I wonder forever if you're actually as good as my sore everything implies?”

Brad’s face visibly heats up. “Well, it's not a one-night stand if we do it again, is it?” he mutters.

“No,” Beckett replies curtly, making her eye contact as direct as possible. “It's not.”

“And you really want to fuck in a storage closet.”

“It can't be much worse than on a planet of jellybean aliens.”

“Gezorvazorians,” he corrects. Pauses, considering. “It might not be that good sober.”

“Are you seriously trying to talk me out of having sex with you?” Beckett groans again in exasperation. “This is literally a one time, limited offer, Bradward.”

“I have anxiety, Beckett! It was fine when I was on drink number eight, but I'm going to freak out if I do this without-”

“Oh my god, just stop thinking-” she shoves him back into the wall, hands fisting his stupid Starfleet shirt, “-just do what feels good.”

Apparently what feels good is letting Beckett once again call the shots on this one, like she does on everything. He lets her crowd him back against the wall, pop each of his shirt buttons and makeout as aggressively as they can while still standing upright.

“For the record,” she says, in between kisses, “if you don't want to have sex with me, that's a hundred percent fine, I don't want to pressure you-”

Brad rolls his eyes. “You really gotta-” kisses her again, “make up your mind-” her hand pulls at the short hair on the nape of his neck, eliciting a high pitched noise “- getting mixed signals-”

“My mind is made up, it's just that I realized that I maaay have been a bit pushy-”

Brad pulls away to give her a deadpan expression. “Yeah, if there's one thing I do remember about you in bed, it's that you're kind of pushy. Actually, scratch that, you’re relentless.”

Beckett flushes. “I-”

“I don't mind. Just as long as you're sure.”

“I am,” she meets his gaze challengingly, fighting her blush down.

“Cool.” He nods once, curtly. The image doesn’t exactly mesh right with his disheveled hair and unbuttoned shirt. “Cool, cool, cool. I'm probably going to freak out in the middle of this, fyi.”

“Don't say ‘fyi,’ it's lame.” She glances around the room. “So. Floor or wall?”

_____

They don't actually fuck in the storage closet, much to Beckett's disappointment and everyone else's general embarrassment. D’Vana in particular is going back and forth between remorse and spastic giggling. It’s just as well. Brad really couldn’t stop laughing at her after her “floor or wall” comment which made getting laid kind of hard. No pun intended.

_____

The next few days are kind of a living hell for the Cerritos. Which is unbelievable, considering how weird Beckett and Brad had made it for everyone before their conversation in the storage closet.

It really really doesn’t help that Brad’s bunk is like. Right over hers. Goddamnnit.

“Good news is we have shore leave again in three weeks,” Jennifer says, handing her a wrench.

Beckett, who’s holding a screwdriver in her mouth, makes whahed? noise, eyes glued to the charred remains of the food replicator. Jen leans back against the counter casually, flipping her silver hair over her shoulder. She’s not really helping Beckett, just watching while she takes advantage of her own buffer time. Beckett doesn’t mind because a) everyone’s entitled to their own buffer time and b) Jen isn’t bad company. At least when she isn’t involving herself in the soap opera worthy drama that is Beckett’s life. Like right now.

Jen gives her a bemused look. “You don’t have to tell me what happened last time,” she says, which is great because Beckett has no intention of bringing up the events of their last shore leave, “But you want my advice? Fix it this time. For everyone’s sake.”

Beckett takes the screwdriver out of her mouth and places it on the counter. “I literally have no idea what you are talking about,” she says in lieu of feeling an emotion.

“Me neither,” Jen admits, sighing. “Look, I don’t put much stock in the rumor mill, but even I know there’s something going on between you and Boimler.”

Oh. Shit.

“Oh, shit,” Beckett says.

Jen grins. “Yeah, shit Mariner. Who’d have thought: you and Brad Boimler. Six years ago, I’d have laughed in your face.”

Beckett makes a face. It’s not a laughing one. More of a grimace, really. “It’s not whatever you’re thinking.”

“With you it rarely is.” Jen looks wary, but the corners of her eyes still crinkle with amusement. “I’m just saying, I know something’s up. Don’t really care, but it’s making this ship socially awkward. I refuse to work somewhere socially awkward, Mariner.”

“Oh, we are in agreement,” Beckett quickly defends, holding her hands up.

“Good, then fix whatever the fuck’s going on. I can’t take much more of this.”

Beckett doesn’t have much to say to that. Mostly because she’s in total agreement, but also because that’s the moment D’Vana comes around the corner and she’d rather not get Into It with the perky Orion today.

_____

It’s Sam who brings it up. “So, shore leave on Earth,” he says. “Who’s down?”

The four of them are sitting at the bar, pretending like nothing weird is going on between two of their members. It helps that Sam is sitting between her and Brad, but it also doesn’t because he keeps catching them staring at each other. It’s super fucking awkward, so Beckett takes the opportunity to direct their attentions elsewhere.

She groans loudly, dropping her face onto her folded arms. “If I wanted to be on Earth I wouldn’t have joined Starfleet,” she grumbles. “This fucking sucks.”

D’Vana perks up immediately, like Beckett knew she would. “I love Earth!” she says, enthusiastically gesturing with her martini glass. “So many different cultures and languages and religions on one planet. If I wasn’t stationed in deep space, I’d have asked for a position there.”

“All those religions and cultures and shit is why Earth has a reputation of not getting along with itself,” Beckett mumbles into her arm.

“That’s not specific to Earth though,” Brad points out, pretty much speaking for the first time that night. He looks a bit surprised, like he hadn’t meant to talk to her at all or make eye contact. Which was most likely the case, considering. Still, he pushes on. “I mean, how many interplanetary disputes have we broken up in the last year alone?”

“Yeah, but I don’t come from those planets so I don’t have to feel bad about it,” Beckett mutters.

Sam snorts. “So is that a no?”

Beckett shrugs. “Fuck if I know. Will there be alcohol?”

“There can be.”

She flutters her eyelashes at Sam. “Well, if you insist then.”

Brad and D’Vana exchange a look.

_____

Earth isn’t too bad.

Beckett should know, she was born there.

The distinct lack of shenanigans she can get up to are fairly disappointing, however. And the distinct presence of cops is still as annoying as ever. But Sam drags the four through downtown San Francisco, intent on making the most of it.

He is determined to teach D’Vana how to surf, so they find themselves at one of those swim stores--the ones that smell like chlorine and weed and have like a display of goggles that takes up two entire ailes and the walls are covered in surf boards and body boards, and there’s little naked mermaid figurines everywhere. It’s one of those out-of-this-world vibes that has Beckett remembering the little things about earth she misses.

Sam somehow cuts a deal on four surf boards and some swim trunks for him and Brad. Beckett, who had the foresight to bring her own swimwear, doesn’t spend a dime on anything but the salt water taffy up at the front counter. D’Vana, who showed up for shore leave already in a bikini and has chronic steal Beckett’s food syndrome, walks out of there the least broke.

“So we want to start in the whitewater,” Sam says, rubbing copious amounts of sunscreen on D’Vana’s back. It’s a wise move, considering the last time they spent free time on a sunny planet, D’Vana walked away with the worst sunburns. “That way we can work on your stance without any pressure.”

“Speak for yourselves,” Beckett flips her shades down. “I’m heading out for the Big Bois. The Chungos, if you will.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Have you ever surfed before?”

“Does doing handstands on a floatie in my pool count?”

“No.”

“Then listen to the expert. We also probably don’t want to go way out until we get wetsuits. Trust me on that one,” Sam says, grimacing. “I mean, I’ve gone without, but it’s cold as shit out there.”

Beckett snatches the sunscreen from Sam’s hand and squirts a glob on her calf. “Fine, defeat me with your logic. You want some of this, white bread?” she asks Brad, who very much lives up to said nickname. He sighs, accepting the bottle from her.

All sunscreen up, Sam stands, picking up his surfboard. “I’ll take D’Vana out first,” he says in a blatant show of favoritism.

Brad and Beckett roll their eyes in tandem. “Whatever,” Beckett says, shooing them off with one hand. “I’m taking a nap.” She flops down on a towel under the giant umbrella that D’Vana got from god knows where . Brad looks from her to Sam and D’Vana unsurely before deciding that he’ll strike out on his own for a bit.

“Don’t drown,” Beckett says, already half asleep.

“Duh.” She can practically hear his eye roll. “Remember to wake up in two hours and apply more sunscreen,” he shoots back.

She gives him the o-k hand signal, not opening up her eyes. “You got it, Mom.”

_____

A few hours later--way past when Beckett was supposed to dump more chemicals on her skin (and yes she’s going to be feeling that later)--Beckett wakes up to Sam and D’Vana’s dulcet tones. By dulcet tones she actually means they’re belting out I’ve Had the Time of My Life in tandem with the music booming on the speaker Sam brought because they are those annoying beach people .

D’Vana must’ve gone to one of the street vendors on the boardwalk, because she has a tray of tiny sandwiches and a paper bag of popcorn that she’s sharing with Sam. Beckett tries to get in on that action, but because D’Vana is the biggest hypocrite Beckett knows, she finds herself banned from the snacks.

“You and Brad can get your own,” D’Vana says stubbornly.

Beckett rolls her eyes. “Where is he, anyway?”

D’Vana points vaguely off in the direction of the water. Brad is sitting on his surfboard, looking more relaxed than Beckett’s seen him in a while.

She stands up, stretching out the kinks and stiffness in her joints, grinning when Sam winces at the cracking of her spine. Shaking the fogginess away, Beckett makes her way out into the waves, shivering at their chill. In a stroke of genius, or maybe just chaotic evillness, Beckett ducks under the water, swimming beneath where Brad is peacefully sitting.

“Nice view,” Beckett says, bursting out of the water. Brad flails, arms pinwheeling. He does fall off his perch on the surfboard, but Beckett catches it before the waves can take it away. She heaves herself gracefully over the side, sitting with her legs in the water. After a moment she offers a hand to a very sulky looking Brad, who’s usually coiffed hair is plastered to his skull by the water.

He takes her proffered hand and sits beside her.

After a moments pause, where they sit bobbing in the waves and watching the sunset, Brad says, “I would like to say that not even the holodeck can recreate colors like that buuut-”

“We do have top-of-the-line technology,” Beckett agrees. “It’s still nice knowing it’s real, though,” she adds.

“How sentimental of you,” he says, almost teasingly. It does wonders for the tension Beckett’s holding.

“Shut up,” she gets out, shoving his shoulder good-naturedly. It’s not hard enough to push him back in the water, but it’s enough that he swats her off. “I’m just saying .”

“So Earth isn’t so bad, after all?” he asks, smug.

Beckett rolls her eyes. “I guess ,” she allows, grudgingly. “But don’t go telling anyone.”

Brad just grins, turning back to the sunset. They don’t say much more after that.

_____

Beckett is lying in bed, staring at the ceiling of the hotel they’re staying at overnight, when she comes to a decision. “I’m going to have sex with Brad.”

D’Vana, who Beckett had been pretty sure was sleeping, chokes in the dark. “Beckett what the fuuu -”

Beckett sits up. “I’m going to have sex with Brad,” she reiterates, throwing the covers off.

The bedside lamp clicks on, washing the room in a pale, yellow light. D’Vana’s expression is somewhere between I’m too sleep-deprived to deal with this shit and a murder is happening tonight .

“Like, right now?” she asks, finally.

“No time like the present,” Beckett says, already halfway out the door. Whatever protests D’Vana has is cut off when the door slides shut behind her. Sam and Brad are staying just across the hall, so it takes no time to get there and knock on the door.

“So are we gonna fuck or what?” Beckett asks the minute Brad shows his face. Sam makes a choked, gagging noise from somewhere behind him. Brad makes an equally despairing sound.

“Sam, could you-?”

“Gone! I'm gone.” Sam pushes past them, heading for the other suite. “I'll just sleep with D’Vana-- in D’Vana’s room!” He hurriedly course corrects, “In her room. I'm--I'll. Bye.” He ducks behind the door, slamming it.

“Yeesh, my girl ain't getting any tonight.”

“But we are apparently,” Brad dryly remarks. Or tries to dryly remark. It comes out strangled. “I thought that was a limited offer.”

“Yeah well, maybe I changed my mind. Are you gonna invite me in or what?”

Brad opens the door wider. “I didn't know you needed a literal invitation like some sort of vampire.”

“I was being polite.” She brushes past him. “I am capable of that on occasion.” She flops on the bed with forced bravado. Brad starts doing that thing where he avoids eye contact but realizes it's awkward so he then makes too much eye contact. Beckett resists the urge to tease him about it, if only because she's starting to feel weird about everything too.

“I’m not saying no-”

“Jesus, okay, rejection time-”

“But right now might not be the best time,” he finishes, face crimson.

“What?” She glances around the room. “Master suite in a five star hotel in San Francisco is a worse time for you than a storage closet? I didn't know you had an exhibition thing-”

“ I don't.” Brad scowls. “I'm just not in the mood.”

Oh.

“Oh,” she says, leaning back with her hands supporting her behind her. She kind of feels like an asshole for just assuming he’d be down anytime. There’s another moment of silence. Awkward.

Then, “I have some old timey soap-opera that Jen gave me, on my padd. You down?”

_____

“I don’t think this is a soap opera,” Brad says, ten minutes into their third episode.

They’re both lying on top of the covers, padd propped on a pillow, watching a collection of random episodes Beckett seemingly has. There’s about four feet of yawning distance between them, four impossible feet that’s frankly starting to piss Beckett off for reasons she’s trying not to examine.

“He’s married to his best friends’ daughter which means his mother-in-law made out with him,” Beckett replies, rolling her eyes. “His wife and her parents are pretty much the same age. He gets assassinated by his wife who was trained by a cultist group to take him down. How is that not a soap opera?”

Brad shrugs. “It just seems to be more action based.”

“Give it time, you’ll get it.”

Silence as they watch the main characters get chased by dinosaurs. Brad, surprisingly, does not offer up why it’s unrealistic--(she can totally hear him lecturing on about how dinosaurs actually had feathers, Beckett, and that one was definitely bipedal why is it on all fours?)-- instead tapping his fingers against the mattress and occasionally spacing out.

Whatever. Beckett’s perfectly comfortable reclining on the other side of the bed and ignoring him.

“It’s not me, right?” she blurts out. “I didn’t like, push you too much and now you want nothing to do with me?”

Way to sound insecure, Mariner.

Brad startles in surprise. “What? No!” He sits up. “Why would-”

“I don’t know, it’s just weird! And we’re not weird like this--we watch shit all the time together and make fun of it and it’s not socially awkward!”

“I’m not trying to be socially awkward! I just-”

“Well you are -”

“I thought you were mad at me ?” He tries, looking askance.

Beckett blinks across the bed at him. “You thought-- what --that I was mad at you for not being up for-”

“If you make that pun, I swear to god-”

“Not a pun, I’m being literal-you thought -”

“Beck-”

“You thought I was upset that you aren’t in the mood for-for my weird need to-to-” She can’t even finish it.

“Ughrhrh.” Brad covers his eyes with his hands. “It sounds bad when you say it out loud.”

“Yeah no shit, Bradward.” She huffs loudly, turning back to the episode only to find that it’s over.

“Sorry,” he says at last, still into his hands. “I’m having a weird night.”

Aaaand now Beckett feels like shit. Because of course she was making everything about her when there were other people emotionally involved. God she needed to talk to her therapist.

“You wanna talk about it?” she asks, nervously tapping her foot at the air.

Brad drops his hands, staring at her flatly. “Do you really want to hear my weird TMI relationship hangups?”

Oh fuck, it’s gonna be that kind of talk.

“Uh, yes? I tell you my weird shit all the time-”

“ Unsolicited -”

“And you don’t give a shit. Why would I be upset about you telling me your weird shit? Is it a kink thing? I bet it’s a kink thing.”

“It’s not a-! Just-just let me talk!”

Beckett makes a phhhft- ing noise, but relents. She twiddles her thumbs for a moment, a mannerism she picked up from D’Vana over the years. Brad’s eyes zero in on the motion for a moment, as he nervously begins tapping his fingers against the mattress again and then stopping to clasp his hands tightly.

“You know how I don’t really. Date people?” he tries, wincing slightly.

“Yeah, sure.” She shrugs.

“Have you ever wondered why-”

“Because our friend group is so batshit fucking certifiable that any potential boyfriends or girlfriends get scared off. It’s why Amina and I were never gonna get back together.” Beckett doesn’t say duh , but it lingers in the air.

Brad rolls his eyes. “ Yes that, but also I don’t date people for the same reason it took D’Vana six years to figure out she and Sam were dating.”

Oh.

“Oh. Oh .” Beckett blinks for a moment, world realigning. “Wait, how did I not know that about you? I know everything about you.” Which is entirely the wrong response to your best friend sharing something that personal, but Brad doesn’t seem to pick up on it so Beckett thinks it’s okay. Hopefully.

“Apparently, not,” he replies, amused.

“But, you’re like. Okay hooking up every once in a while.” God, she hopes so. If she pressured her best friend into having drunk sex with her-

“Yeah, I’m in the mood every once in a while. Like, once a year kind of once in a while,” Brad says casually, alleviating her worries. “Just not right now.”

“Oh okay, cool.” A pause. “Thank you for telling me.”

He rolls his eyes again like she knows she’s going over every social media post and session with her therapist concerning how to handle your best friend coming out to you in her head and settles down next to her. “Whatever. What’s happening?” he asks, turning back to the padd.

Beckett apparently has episodes out of order because the main characters are hijacking the 1969 Earth space missions. “An alien race that controls humans through post-hypnotic suggestions is giving them the technology to land on their own moon.”

Brad huffs, amused. “Naturally.”

_____

Everything kind of goes back to normal after that.

Well, as normal as things get on the Cerritos .

Beckett takes her conversation with Brad to mean that he’s not interested in le sex with her (at the moment anyway) and backing off is in their best interests.

Whatever, she didn’t really know what she was going on about anyway. It’s not as if she was using not remembering their one-night stand as an excuse to hook up with Brad because she’s suffering from unacknowledged requited feelings.

(She’s not. She’s not . Goddamnit.)

The ship seems to give a collective sigh of relief, now that Beckett and Brad aren’t doing...whatever it was they were. Beckett is back to annoying the shit out of her best friend and Brad is back to pretending like he hates everything she stands for. It’s a comfortable equilibrium that Beckett’s glad to be back to.

Even if she still ponders all of the what ifs .

_____

If Beckett’s life is a movie--which is a metaphor she hasn’t used yet, but now’s probably the best time to start because the drama of hooking up with her best friend is totally some awkward comedy shit--then the Halloween party Sam and Jen throw is the punch line. Or the climax--whatever, no pun intended.

Beckett didn’t even know Halloween was like still a Thing until she and her friend group came across a Halloween themed shop during shore leave.

“Isn’t it July?” Beckett had pondered. “I’m pretty sure this holiday is supposed to be in October?”

“It’s one of those “Holiday in July” shops,” Brad said, rolling his eyes at D’Vana who’d donned a witches hat on and was cackling appropriately. “They were totally a thing when I was a kid.”

Sam pulled out his comm. “You know how Jen wanted to throw a party for the end of our assignment in the Neutral Zone? I think I know what theme we should go with.”

Beckett had laughed, delighted at the idea of them throwing a Halloween Bash on the Cerritos , but hadn’t taken it seriously until she walked into her favorite bar on the ship, which was now decked out in the most ridiculous decorations she’s ever seen.

“This is amazing,” Beckett says.

D’Vana grins. “Right? I think I’m going to marry Jen.”

“If I don’t get there first,” Sam retorts, darting off in Jen’s direction. D’Vana shouts after him, breaking out into a run. Beckett shakes her head and heads off to find a corner to enjoy her alcohol in peace.

She finds one, and gets through one red, plastic cup of cheap beer before Brad is at her shoulder.

“So, we’re done being weird, right?” Brad confirms. Surprised that he actually has the backbone to bring The Incident up, Beckett shrugs, eyes still on a dancing D’Vana. She’s somehow roped to humans into a weird-threeway dance that is honestly making Beckett wish she had a recorder device on her.

“Yeah, we’re good,” she says. “Sorry for. You know.”

“It’s cool,” Brad replies, giving her a thumbs up. “I mean, it was bound to happen eventually?”

This gives Beckett pause. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, someone in our friend group was eventually going to hook up and make everything awkward,” Brad rubs the back of his neck, laughing, well, awkwardly . “Sucks that it was us but,” he shrugs in a what can you do way.

Beckett nods back, almost absentmindedly. “Yeah. I mean. Yeah,” she finishes off, lamely and god this is awkward. “Could have been worse,” she finally settles on.

“Could’ve been me and D’Vana,” Brad agrees, nose wrinkling at the thought. She’s pretty sure he had a crush when they first met, but it mellowed out over the years. Especially after D’Vana made it clear to a handsy ensign that she was only interested in girls .

(And being in a co-dependent/queerplatonic relationship with one Samantha Rutherford, but that was beside the point.)

Still, something about the suggestion of the two hooking up leaves a sour pit in Beckett’s stomach.

“It’s too bad though,” she blurts out, “that it happened like the way it did.”

Brad pauses, brow furrowed.

“I mean,” she bulldozes on when he doesn’t say anything. “If I’d have had a choice on how it would have happened...I would have done things differently.”

“Oh?” Brad angles his body toward hers. She leans back against the wall, trying to calm her racing heart.

“Yeah.” Her voice sounds far away.

“How would you have done things?”

“I-” She fists her palms and then forces herself to relax them. “Well, for starters I wouldn’t have been drunk .”

“Ah.” Brad winces, probably remembering the terrible hangovers they had the next day. “Yeah that probably wasn’t the best -”

“And it would have meant something.”

There. She said it.

It’s what her mom’s been hinting at for years now, what D’Vana had been getting at and Jen and Sam and even Brad himself; the one truth that Beckett had been shoving to the back of her mind, since even before that shared night with Brad.

Brad Boimler is her best friend and she’s in love with him.

The pause goes on for too long. Beckett doesn’t dare look at him, doesn’t dare breathe. She keeps her eyes firmly on D’Vana, who’s been joined by a slightly tipsy Sam. They dance around each other, ridiculous and fond.

“It did mean something.”

Beckett whips her head around, meeting Brad’s gaze disbelievingly. He swallows, adam’s apple bobbing.

“Of course it meant something,” he says. “It was with you.”

Beckett likes to think that she’s smarter than the average person. And if not smarter, witty enough to pass as smarter. She has an automated response for every situation, a retort for every comment, a comeback for every line. There isn’t much that phases her-at least not until she woke up in a hotel room, naked, with her best friend at her side. And just like then, Beckett finds herself speechless.

“Oh,” she says, dumbly, as if she just hadn’t shown her own hand less than a minute ago.

“Mmm,” Brad agrees, looking stressed out. He doesn’t take it back though. He doesn’t do much of anything, actually, beyond staring at her intensely. Then, “Oh god, I made it weird again.”

“No, no,” Beckett holds her hands up placatingly as Brad begins to freak out. “ I made it weird first, you don’t have to-”

“Well I made it weirder!”

“No,” Beckett grabs his collar, shaking him slightly, “-no you didn’t -”

“ Then why are you freaking out? ” He throws his hands up in the air, almost dislodging her grip on his shirt. She tightens it, bringing him down to her eye level.

“I’m not freaking out you’re freaking out -”

“Then why are you the one all up in my personal spa-”

“I’m not-”

“ Jesus Christ , WILL YOU TWO JUST KISS!” D’Vana shouts over the booming bass of Spooky Scary Skeletons Communist Remix.

Beckett freezes , as does Boimler. She’s suddenly aware that the two of them are standing, nose to nose, practically shouting at each other--even though the loud music drowns out what they’re saying to the people around them (thank god).

Beckett slowly lets go of Boimler’s shirt.

“Uhm.” She blinks up at him, every part of her completely aware that she left the ball in his court last time they had an opportunity to do anything.

Brad looks like he’s wrestling with himself--not an uncommon emotion when it comes to the uptight little dude--eyes darting from both of her eyes to her lips, to over her shoulder where D’Vana is probably being a little creep. Then, all of the tension bleeds out of his body, all at once and a determined look lights up in his eyes.

“ Fuck it,” he says, cupping her face and kissing her.

_____

The walk from the bar to Beckett’s room has never seemed longer, but maybe it has something to do with the fact that they can’t keep their hands off each other.

Even with the buzz of alcohol in her system, Beckett feels entirely present for once in her life. She pushes Brad back against her door, pressing kisses into his lips and the length of his jawline. He gives a little huff when she nips at his skin, pushing her off enough to get a good look at her.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Never been surer,” she replies, already having a go at his buttons. She gets down to the final one, pleased to note that this time they aren’t interrupted. “Are you sure?” she blinks up at him. “You’re in the mood, right?”

“Yes, Beck, I’m in the mood.” Brad rolls her eyes. It looks fond. “Are you in the mood?”

“So so in the mood,” she agrees.

“Great, now that we’ve covered the consent end of this-”

Beckett interrupts, diving back in for more kisses, much to his bemusement.

A few minutes later finds the two of them on her bed, sans their clothes. Beckett wants to feel very very smug about the fact that it’s been a while since that first, mistaken one night stand and Brad still has bruises in places unmentionable, but she’s kind of in the same boat.

“Holy shit, watch it ,” she swats at his face as he kind of nips at a dark bruise on her thigh.

“Oh I am .”

“Stop, that’s not sexy,” she kicks his shoulder, scowling when he snorts.

“Uh-huh.”

“No, no it’s not .”

“Yeah, okay, I stopped doing it .” Brad stares up at her unblinkingly for a moment.

Beckett stares back, arms folded-which feels weird because she’s super naked right now, but she’s already started doing it and Beckett fucking commits to shit-scowl firmly in place. Their little stare off only lasts for a minute longer before Beckett groans, “ Ugh , do it again.”

Brad does not, in fact, do it again because he's laughing too hard at her.

Beckett raises an eyebrow, flipping them over. Brad does not look like he minds, though, blinking up at her with equal amounts bemusement and what Beckett is assuming is appreciation. Whatever, it’s not as if Beckett doesn’t know that she’s smoking hot. It’s nice to see that Brad can acknowledge it though.

“Sooo,” he says, hands on her hips, steadying her as she grabs a scrunchy off the nightstand to pull her wayward hair out of her eyes. “How do you want to do this?”

Beckett takes a moment to make herself comfortable in his lap. “How did we do this last time?”

Brad’s face turns red. “Uhm, I’m not sure if-”

Beckett grins, leaning in. “How’d we do it last time, Brad?”

“ Beckett ,” he whines. She flicks his nose, but then leans in to give him a quick peck. “That’s cheating,” he tells her.

She shrugs, unrepentant. “Well you have all the time in the world to make an honest woman out of m-”

“ Stoooop ,” Brad covers his eyes with his hands. “I hate you. Maybe we should ’ve been drunk for this.”

“I have tequila under the bed.”

“Why do you-nevermind.” Brad sits up, jostling her slightly. “I really shouldn’t be surprised anymore.”

“Too much talking, more kissing,” Beckett says, pressing a couple of featherlight kisses on his lips. She gets her way--as always--and there’s very little talking after that.

(That’s a lie, of course, because it’s BeckettandBrad, meaning that there’s a lot shit-talk and laughing and an embarrassing amount of awkward moments where Brad elbows her in the eye or Beckett makes a noise that’s distinctly not sexy, but honestly? Neither of them would have it any other way.)

_____

The next day goes like this:

Beckett shows up to her shift 40 minutes late, a string of freshly made hickeys on her neck and a shit-eating grin on her face. Freeman takes one look at her and reassigns her off the Bridge for the day, muttering something incomprehensible about grandbabies that Beckett’s forcibly not thinking too hard about.

She finds D’Vana just outside of medbay, who looks utterly delighted by Beckett’s disheveled appearance.

“So, everything’s fine between you two?” D’Vana is grinning a little evilly.

Beckett throws an arm over her shoulder, delighted as always over their height difference. “Oh so fine, mi amore.”

D’Vana shoves her off, but looks just as pleased as Beckett feels. “Thank god,” she says. “I couldn’t take much more of your sad, sad faces. It was embarrassing.”

This gives Beckett pause. “Hey, we weren’t that bad,” she protests.

“Oh, you definitely were,” D’Vana promises. “There’s only so many times Sam and I can lock you two in a storage closet before our quaple isn’t worth it anymore. We were like a minute away from throwing you out of the polycule.”

“I- polycule? Since when -”

“Oh Beckett,” D’Vana sighs. “I have some bad news for you.”

“Did you know that we were in a platonic quaple with Sam and D’Vana?” Beckett shrieks, practically flying out of the turbolift.

Brad stares at her. “...yes?”

No one tells Beckett anything.

[missjanjie]

Taste of a Poison Paradise | Chapter 9

Title: Taste of a Poison Paradise Summary: Life at Jackie Cox’s strip club, Poison Paradise, isn’t just lapdances and g-strings. There’s enough drama, lust, and heartache to rival any soap opera. None of the girls know what to expect on any given shift, especially while navigating their torrid, complicated relationships. Word Count: ~2.9k (this chapter) / ~27.2k (total) Relationship(s): Lemyanka (Lemon/Priyanka), Crygi (Crystal Methyd/Gigi Goode), Sportsdoll (Jan Sport/Nicky Doll), Jaidie (Jaida Essence Hall/Jackie Cox), BVK (Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo/Kameron Michaels), Rosnali (Rosé/Denali Foxx) Rating: E TW: mentions of alcoholism

Read on AO3 | Ko-Fi

Chapter Summary: In the wake of Lemon's outburst at the club, those closest to her process the fallout and realize something needs to be done before she spirals to the point of no return.

-

“Okay, I think that’s the last box,” Juice remarked as she dropped herself down onto the couch. “So, why’d your cousin kick you out again?”

Lemon scoffed and rolled her eyes as she piled up the empty boxes. “She didn’t kick me out, we both decided it was time for me to move.” She decided her college friend-turned-roommate didn’t need to know about the argument she had with Rosé. And she certainly didn’t need to know that she’d rejected her ultimatum of, “if you want to stay here, you can’t keep getting drunk every day.” It had been a week since the incident at the club and she was going to recover from it on her own terms.

“Alright, cool,” she shrugged as she took out her phone and began aimlessly scrolling. “You wanna do something tonight?”

The blonde perched herself on the armrest of the couch, swinging her legs. “We could go to a club and get shitfaced,” she suggested.

Juice shook her head without looking up from her phone. “You can. I mean, I’ll totally go with you and turn shit up, but I don’t drink.”

“More for me.”

Her friend looked her over with a concerned expression, eyes finally pried away from the screen. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked gently. “I mean, I know you’ve been through a lot, have you considered talking to someone about it?”

Lemon shook her head. “I’m fine, I don’t have the emotional capacity for therapy.” She got back up and looked around. “Shit, I guess you don’t have any liquor in here then. I’ll be back,” and after putting her shoes on and grabbing her purse, she was out the door, leaving a concerned new roommate in her wake.

------

Rosé sighed as she passed the joint back to Mik. “This doesn’t make me a bad person, right? I mean the last thing I want to do is make Lemon’s issues about me. But god, that really is what made me realize that I have to do this.”

Mik shook her head as she took a hit. “It’s not your fault, you saw a trainwreck and realized you needed to keep your ass on the tracks.” She finished off the joint and put it out. “Listen, the last thing you wanna do is be that girl who pines over the person she’s sleeping with until it’s too late.”

“You’re right, I know. I’m gonna talk to her,” she exhaled deeply as she pushed herself up. “If Lemon comes around, please don’t have sex with her.”

“Oh fuck off,” she huffed, “that delayed her mental breakdown by at least a week.”

Rosé rolled her eyes as she left. She wasn’t mad at Mik for that, if anything maybe it did help Lemon temporarily by giving her a distraction. But she had so much more on her mind, things that have been brewing since the club incident.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she knocked on Denali’s door, evening out her breathing while she waited for her.

“Hey Rosie,” Denali smiled warmly as she opened the door, leading her inside and shutting it behind them. “What’s up? You usually text me when you’re on your way over.” They sat down on the couch as she spoke, a tinge of concern in her voice.

She swallowed thickly, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. “I know I’ve been distant lately with everything that’s been happening with Lemon. But through all the chaos, I realized something, that keeping your feelings bottled up is dangerous.” Another deep breath, this time she forced herself to look into Denali’s eyes, eyes that she found warmth and comfort in every time she gazed into them. “What I’m trying to say is that I have feelings for you. I don’t just wanna be fuck buddies, it’s not enough. I need all of you.”

Denali blinked, taking her time to process Rosé’s confession. At first it was pure surprise, but once she let it sink in, it clicked that she felt the same way, that she had been falling for her all along without realizing it. “You have all of me,” she told her, cupping her face and pressing a deep kiss to her lips.

In that moment, a weight lifted from Rosé’s chest. If only for the duration of a kiss, she could pretend nothing in the world existed outside of Denali’s apartment. She could stop thinking, stop worrying. It was only them, everything else faded to black. “Are we alone?” she asked against her lips.

“Mhm,” she nodded, a slight smirk tugging at her lips, able to fill in the blanks from there. Her hands traveled down Rosé’s body, tugging off her shirt in one swift motion, her own following suit, though they took their time undressing each other, letting their fingers and lips gently caress each other’s skin.

By the time they were both completely undressed, they had gotten each other thoroughly worked up. Rosé had Denali sit up on the couch, then got on her knees in front of her, pushing her thighs apart. She moved in between them, dragging her tongue along her pussy before circling, then sucking on her clit as she eased a finger into her.

Denali’s head lolled back to rest against the back of the couch, a pleased moan escaping. “Mm, Rosie…” she exhaled, her hips pushing up when Rosé slid in a second finger. “Baby, just like that, feels so good.”

She basked in the praise, continuing her movements, occasionally switching her tongue and her fingers, but never leaving her unattended. She was focused and fervent, bringing Denali to an orgasm as quickly as she could, as if she were setting it as a challenge to herself. Once she’d won her game, she pulled back with a smile, gazing up at her. “God, you’re beautiful.”

“And you’re sappy,” she teased affectionately, leaning down to kiss her. “Come on,” she got up and pulled Rosé to her feet, “we can cuddle until I gotta get ready for my shift.”

------

Nicky watched Jan with a concerned expression. She wished she knew what to do, how to talk to her and help her. Ever since the incident at the club, she had been quiet, withdrawn, two words she would never think to associate with the bubbly woman she loved so dearly. It killed her to see her girlfriend hurting, enough for her to put her aversion to emotional conversations aside as she sat beside her on the couch, gently taking her hand. “Please tell me what’s wrong. You haven’t been the same since what happened with Lemon and I’m worried about you.”

Jan chewed on her lip, her gaze downcast. Logically, she knew she couldn’t avoid this conversation forever, but it didn’t make it any easier. “Lemon is like a sister to me and I’m worried about her. I know what alcoholism looks like… and I know what it can do to someone, it’s not pretty.”

She furrowed her brows, shifting closer to the younger woman. “What do you mean?”

“Well, um…” she swallowed thickly, “my dad’s five years sober now, but it hit a nasty low before it got better. I-I don’t know what that low would be for Lemon, I’m afraid she’s hit it, but I’m even more afraid she hasn’t.”

Nicky nodded as she listened. She had suspected Lemon might have developed a bit of a drinking habit, but not the severity, and certainly not the effect it would have on Jan. “I am so sorry about your father, and about Lemon. Is there anything we can do?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “My dad went to rehab while I was away at college, but I imagine my mom laid down some ultimatums, but I don’t know if Lemon thinks she has anything left to lose.”

“There has to be some way, and I'm going to help you find it,” she promised.

------

“Thank you all for meeting me here,” Juice said as she looked around the two pushed-together tables in the diner. “For those of you who don’t know, my name is Julia - Juice - and Lemon moved in with me about four days ago.”

“What happened?” Rosé immediately asked. “Is she okay?”

The blonde hesitated and looked down at the table. “Technically yes, she’s nursing a hangover at home right now but otherwise fine, unless she’s started day drinking. But there’s a bigger issue, and I’m sure you guys have started to suspect as much. What I’m trying to say is she’s developing an alcohol problem, and if we don’t do something about it now, it could get much worse.”

Everyone else had similar expressions - sadness, concern, anxiety. But none of them were surprised. “What do we do, then?” Rosé asked, breaking a tense moment of silence.

“Listen, I’m not claiming to be an expert. I’m twenty-two, sober for eight months now, so I can relate to how she’s feeling. What she’s going to need is everyone to rally around her, because it won’t be easy to convince her to get help.”

“So can we stage an intervention?” Jaida asked. “Do you have someone we can talk to?”

Juice nodded. “I can talk to my sponsor and have her put us in touch with someone who can get her into a detox, put the whole thing together. It goes so far beyond just telling her to stop drinking, especially in a club environment.”

“Speaking of the club environment,” Gigi chimed in, “we have to address the elephant in the room. What are we gonna do about the Priyanka situation? She told Crystal she’s taking a day job until things cool off, but if Lemon gets help… maybe that’ll expedite the process.”

Jackie sighed, but agreed. “I can open auditions to take on another dancer temporarily, I don’t know how long she’s gonna need, but assuming she chooses to get help, I want her to know she has a place to come back to.” She was quiet for a moment, then added, “I’m going to reach out to Priyanka too, I know she hasn’t been answering most of our calls or texts, but I think I might be able to get through to her.”

“My god, we’ve been so caught up with Lemon, we’ve barely kept up with Pri. Are we bad friends?” Jan asked, feeling a mix of guilt and sadness.

Juice shook her head. “No, of course not. Everyone here is doing their best. You guys reach out to Priyanka and figure out a way to get Lemon to the intervention when the time comes, I’ll do what I can on my part.” From there, they all just had to hope for the best.

------

Jackie took a deep breath, making sure she was calm and collected before knocking on the door. When a woman with black hair and tattoos opened the door, she greeted her politely. “Hi, you must be Scarlett. Um, can you tell Priyanka that Jackie’s here to see her?”

Scarlett nodded, disappearing back into her apartment. There was a solid few minutes of waiting, but Priyanka eventually came to the door. “Hey,” she greeted meekly and led Jackie inside.

Jackie sat at the edge of the bed in the guest room Priyanka had been staying in. “How have you been? You know we’re all worried about you.”

Priyanka’s gaze never left the floor. She picked pieces of lint off of her shorts as she sat down as well, swinging her legs aimlessly. How could she even begin to tackle that question when everything she had ever known had changed overnight? How can anyone process that sort of thing? “Scarlett convinced me to try therapy. I’ve had a couple sessions so far… It helped, I think, but it’s just scratching the surface, you know?”

She listened attentively, nodding along. “I’m proud of you for that. How did your family react when you and Mark broke up?”

“It’s funny, as angry as he was, he didn’t out me. He said it’s clear I have my own problems to work through. My mom was furious that the wedding was called off, so I threw in the ‘I like girls’ news because, well, it couldn’t get any worse,” she sighed. “I don’t think it’s fully hit her yet. She asked me if it was an excuse to get out of the wedding. I haven’t heard back since I told her it was the truth, and I haven’t heard from my dad at all.” She laid back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I couldn’t even say that I’m gay. It’s too much, I can’t just be gay,” she sat back up and grabbed a tissue, quickly dabbing the corners of her eyes. “How do you get past it, Jackie? How do you stop being afraid of yourself?”

Jackie pressed her lips together as she tried to articulate an answer. “There’s no easy solution, but I’m sure you’ve figured that out by now. I don’t think I was ever ready to be gay, one day I just came to terms with the fact that I was miserable trying to avoid my own truth and that the only way I was ever going to be happy was by loving even the scariest parts of myself.”

Priyanka went quiet again, crumpling the tissue in her hand and staring at it as if the answers were there. “So you don’t think I’ll be able to be fully happy until I embrace being gay?”

“That’s for you to decide. But think of it this way; when you think about your future, best case scenario, what is it in your life that’s making you happy?”

The answer for that wasn’t in her hand, it was in her heart. It made its way into her throat, choking her from the inside and making her pulse race. After everything, it nearly made her angry that it felt inevitable. “Lemon.”

------

“Juice just texted me that they’re on the way,” Rosé read off her phone, her free hand squeezing Denali’s tight, her leg bouncing anxiously.

The woman they’d brought in to help Lemon, Widow, nodded calmly. “Remember, at the end of the day we are here to help her. We’re not punishing or lecturing her, but we have to be firm.”

After another review of the plan, they heard the door open and looked up to see the two girls walk in, Lemon’s expression immediately becoming confused as she looked around. “Are you guys fucking intervention-ing me?” she asked as she took the empty seat to the right of Rosé.

“Lemon, your friends and family are here because they care about you and are worried about your health,” Widow explained. “Now, I know what you’re thinking, ‘this bitch wants to send me to some random rehab until I come back sober for good’, but this isn’t like that. We get that you’re twenty-one, fresh out of college, no history of addiction.”

“So why am I here?” Lemon interjected.

Rosé arched her brow. “Well, for starters, you haven’t been sober a full twenty-four hours in nearly three weeks, you’ve been acting completely unhinged every time you get trashed. You’re actively trying to alienate yourself from everyone who cares about you, you-” She stopped short when Denali squeezed her hand, her cue to reel it in. “You’re going down a dangerous path and we don’t want you to get hurt.”

“This isn’t one of those ninety-day programs either,” Jackie chimed in. “It’s only three weeks, and the first five days are just for detoxing. We’re not saying you have to be sober for good, this isn’t AA, it’s a program that’s going to give you the support and help you need to still enjoy things in moderation instead of relying on alcohol as a coping mechanism.”

Lemon nodded and listened as the rest of the group said their pieces to try to convince her to go. And she took it in, but she was also looking around and at the door. After a while, it became clear that she was waiting for - hoping for - another person.

“Priyanka wanted to come,” Jackie told her. “But we weren’t sure how you would react and decided it would be better if she waited at least until after you detox to contact you. You have to know, though, she really does care about you.”

She sunk further into her chair, not angry, but embarrassed. It shouldn’t have had to come to this, she knew that, knew better. And she hated that everything they said was right, that she did need help. “Fine,” she mumbled, “I’ll go.”

There was a collective sigh of relief as the tension dissipated throughout the room. “Rosé and Juice will go back with you to your apartment so you can pack, we’re going to get you checked in tonight,” Widow explained. “The facility is in Westchester, you won’t be more than an hour away and visitation is every Saturday.”

Rosé looked at her younger cousin and could tell she was doing her best to cover her fear and anxiety. She wrapped her arms around her and hugged her tightly. “You’re going to be okay, baby,” she promised, “they’re gonna take good care of you, and you’re gonna be better than ever once you’re done.”

Lemon nodded quietly, wiping her eyes. “I just wanna get this over with,” she mumbled, still unwilling to allow herself to be vulnerable in front of everyone, though the group anticipated that from her and let it be. All any of them could do now was trust the process.

[fallingforyou123]

You Will Never Be A God-Une

Warnings: Slight language, implied smut, alight angst

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: Here is the official part one! Hope you'll like it, reblogs and feedback are always appreciated!

Series Masterpost

The sheets hung loosely around her frame, the only thing keeping her from being exposed to the cold air. The stranger laid beside her in a dazed out state, chest rising ever so slowly. A small cloud of smoke engulfed the both of them, a bad habit Stevi had picked up from an ex of hers.

“Those will kill you one day.”

“No more than sleeping with strangers will.”

“Touche.”

Stevi moved to get dressed, keeping quiet to avoid another conversation. Leaving was always bad, but leaving when there was still so much to be said was the worst. She couldn’t quite place it, but there was a feeling, something small sitting in her gut. It worried her, she’d never felt like this with a stranger. So safe and comfortable.

“Stay. Just till the morning, I’ll have my driver take you home.” Came the voice from the other side of the bed.

“No, definitely no. I have rules, no names, no staying. I can’t”

“What a lonely life you must live, to disconnect so much from those around you.”

Stevi looked at him, truly looked at him. He looked so much different than the man she met a couple hours ago. His perfectly gelled hair was nothing more than a brown mess atop his head, his eyes were clouded with a sleepy haze, and his suit had been replaced by a very thin sheet. He looked like someone she could see herself falling for back in university, she had to remind herself that this was a man with a lot of money, someone she’d probably dig up dirt on for an article.

She shook her head, she needed to leave.

After she finished dressing, she grabbed her bag from the front room and slipped out the door. Checking her phone she saw a couple missed calls from Brooke and an enthusiastic ‘be safe!’ text from Poppy. She quickly both, ensuring them that she was not dead in a ditch somewhere, before ordering an uber and hoping in the elevator.

***

The rest of the weekend had gone by in a blur. She’d spent all of Saturday nursing her hangover with ice cream and old reruns of Golden Girls in bed. Then Sunday was brunch with the girls at a little cafe where she was forced to share every detail of the events that unfolded Friday night, only leaving out how weird she had felt in the strangers' company. And then all too soon she was getting ready for a week of meetings and interviews.

Walking into the office, Stevi was greeted by her boss informing her that her 11am was now Stevi’s and ‘oh, look, he’s early.’ She mentally groaned, there was not enough caffeine in the world to make this worth it. Don’t get her wrong, Stevi loved her job, but god did she hate her boss. She was flakey, and whenever anything didn’t appeal to her, she’d simply give it to Stevi with barely any notice. There were far too many nights that she had to stay late because she was given a column to write only hours before it was due.

With a heavy sigh, she walks into the conference room, hoping that this won’t last long. “Good morning, my name is Stevi, I’ll be doing the interview today since Diane couldn’t be here.”

“Rule one.”

She whips her head up towards the man, “What?”

It’s in that moment that she realizes who this is, the man from Friday night. And coincidentally, Tom Holland. She should’ve known the other night who he was, his name and face had been plastered on the bulletin board for weeks, one of their most anticipated interviews this year. Tom was not only a pretty face, but the youngest CEO to be running an international company in decades. His father had started Holland and Co. Publishing almost 30 years ago, and only a few months ago he handed it over to Tom.

“I said, rule one darling. You’ve broken it.” She’d forgotten how lovely that voice was, remembering how captivating it was to have him whispering in her ear.

“I heard what you said, Mr. Holland.”

“Call me Tom, you’ve more than earned that privilege.”

“This is my place of work, not some stupid nightclub, I keep things professional here.”

Neither of them take their eyes off the other, a silent war taking place between the two of them.

“Well, if you’re such a professional, stop looking at me like you’re wanting to fuck me.”

A small gasp leaves Stevi. She stands up to leave, gathering her things, and looks at him with venom in her eyes, “Mr. Holland, I’m afraid that this interview is over, if you would please talk to the receptionist she will reschedule you in with someone other than me.”

A small look of shock crosses Tom’s face before he too stands, reaching out to grab Stevi’s arm, “Wait, I'm sorry. Sit down, I’ll be civil.”

Reluctantly, she does. Placing her notebooks in front of her and pulling out the recorder. Before she begins she gives Tom a warning look, “One word, one single word out of line, and this is over.” To which he nods and sits back, hands folded in his lap, looking like a true business man.

***

The rest of the interview goes by smoothly, only a couple of suggestive looks being thrown her way before he bites his tongue. Stevi’s never been more relieved to finish something in her life, the tension between the two becoming almost unbearable as the interview went on. “Okay, I think that’s all we need for the article, a draft will be sent to your assistant to go over before we publish it in next week's business column.”

Stevi stands quickly, ready to put everything behind her and spend the rest of her day hiding in her office. Before she can leave, a hand is wrapped around her arm once again, and body right behind her. “Let me take you to dinner, darling. A reward for being good.”

The voice in her ear sends a shiver down her spine, and for a second she debates it, “Tom, I can’t. I don’t mix business with pleasure, this is already a conflict of interest.”

“More of those damn rules. Live a little, let your guard down for once.” He looks at her with pleading eyes, something that makes him look more like his true age. That feeling sneaks its way back into again, and for a moment, while she stares into his eyes, nothing else exists. Just the two of them and a world of possibilities.

“If I say yes, this stays between us. The people we are here, and the people we are then are not the same. My job may not seem dangerous to you, but it could be very bad for me if someone gets the wrong idea.”

Tom nods, he knows all too well what she means. “Tonight at 7, meet me at The Garden on 22nd, I’ll make the reservation.”

She agrees, lets him put his number in her phone, and gives Tom one last smile before heading down the hall to her office.

She jumps when she sees someone sitting at her desk, “James, what are you doing here?”

“What, can’t check in on my favourite captain?”

“Not without a secret agenda, and last I checked, I have nothing to report to you, I’m off duty.” Stevi walks towards him, pushing his legs off of her desk.

“Ah, sweetheart, you’re never off duty. Not when you’re talking to men like that.” James points out the door, to where Tom can be seen talking to the receptionist.

“That is none of your business, James.”

“I want details, everything you can find out about him, on my desk by Friday, you know what’ll happen if it’s not. Have a good day Stevi.” And with that, James walks out of the room, leaving a chill hanging in the air.

Stevi suddenly can’t breathe, the four walls surrounding her feeling like a cage. She quickly grabs her things and walks to Dianes’ office, telling her there’s a family emergency and she’ll work on the article at home. Within minutes she’s scrambling to get into her car, dialing Poppys’ number, needing someone to calm her down.

She spends the rest of the day on Poppys’ couch trying to recover from her near mental breakdown. This life was never something she wanted, she’d been dragged into it by her ex. After he failed to complete a simple task, he was killed in their apartment, and she was responsible for finishing it out. But it’s never that simple, one task turned into two, and then four, and now she was too far in to be able to leave.

All too soon, it was 6:30 and she was leaving for her date with Tom. She’d left Poppys an hour ago, promising her that there was nothing to worry about, it had just been a bad day. She drove in silence, not wanting to focus on anything but the road. She got to the restaurant right on time, quickly being seated in one of the private rooms. She’d been here once before with her parents when she first moved to the city. They’d taken her out to celebrate and they’d spent the night drinking fancy wine and eating more food than they could’ve ever imagined.

Lost in her memories, she didn’t realise how much time had passed since she’d arrived. Checking her phone she saw that it was now quarter past, and no sign of Tom. She tries texting him, thinking maybe he’d gotten off of work late. By 7:30 she starts to panic, she’s 2 glasses of wine in and still no sign of him. To no avail, she calls him, worry turning into anger when it goes straight to voicemail.

It’s almost 8 when the waiter informs her that Tom has called, he won’t be making it, but to order whatever she likes and he’ll pay for it.

And so she sits there, wine glass in hand, wishing she’d never even met Tom.

[artificialqueens]

Taste of a Poison Paradise, Chapter 9 (Multi) - Joley

Chapter Summary: In the wake of Lemon’s outburst at the club, those closest to her process the fallout and realize something needs to be done before she spirals to the point of no return.

ao3 link

“Okay, I think that’s the last box,” Juice remarked as she dropped herself down onto the couch. “So, why’d your cousin kick you out again?”

Lemon scoffed and rolled her eyes as she piled up the empty boxes. “She didn’t kick me out, we both decided it was time for me to move.” She decided her college friend-turned-roommate didn’t need to know about the argument she had with Rosé. And she certainly didn’t need to know that she’d rejected her ultimatum of, “if you want to stay here, you can’t keep getting drunk every day.” It had been a week since the incident at the club and she was going to recover from it on her own terms.

“Alright, cool,” she shrugged as she took out her phone and began aimlessly scrolling. “You wanna do something tonight?”

The blonde perched herself on the armrest of the couch, swinging her legs. “We could go to a club and get shitfaced,” she suggested.

Juice shook her head without looking up from her phone. “You can. I mean, I’ll totally go with you and turn shit up, but I don’t drink.”

“More for me.”

Her friend looked her over with a concerned expression, eyes finally pried away from the screen. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked gently. “I mean, I know you’ve been through a lot, have you considered talking to someone about it?”

Lemon shook her head. “I’m fine, I don’t have the emotional capacity for therapy.” She got back up and looked around. “Shit, I guess you don’t have any liquor in here then. I’ll be back,” and after putting her shoes on and grabbing her purse, she was out the door, leaving a concerned new roommate in her wake.

——

Rosé sighed as she passed the joint back to Mik. “This doesn’t make me a bad person, right? I mean the last thing I want to do is make Lemon’s issues about me. But god, that really is what made me realize that I have to do this.”

Mik shook her head as she took a hit. “It’s not your fault, you saw a trainwreck and realized you needed to keep your ass on the tracks.” She finished off the joint and put it out. “Listen, the last thing you wanna do is be that girl who pines over the person she’s sleeping with until it’s too late.”

“You’re right, I know. I’m gonna talk to her,” she exhaled deeply as she pushed herself up. “If Lemon comes around, please don’t have sex with her.”

“Oh fuck off,” she huffed, “that delayed her mental breakdown by at least a week.”

Rosé rolled her eyes as she left. She wasn’t mad at Mik for that, if anything maybe it did help Lemon temporarily by giving her a distraction. But she had so much more on her mind, things that have been brewing since the club incident.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she knocked on Denali’s door, evening out her breathing while she waited for her.

“Hey Rosie,” Denali smiled warmly as she opened the door, leading her inside and shutting it behind them. “What’s up? You usually text me when you’re on your way over.” They sat down on the couch as she spoke, a tinge of concern in her voice.

She swallowed thickly, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. “I know I’ve been distant lately with everything that’s been happening with Lemon. But through all the chaos, I realized something, that keeping your feelings bottled up is dangerous.” Another deep breath, this time she forced herself to look into Denali’s eyes, eyes that she found warmth and comfort in every time she gazed into them. “What I’m trying to say is that I have feelings for you. I don’t just wanna be fuck buddies, it’s not enough. I need all of you.”

Denali blinked, taking her time to process Rosé’s confession. At first it was pure surprise, but once she let it sink in, it clicked that she felt the same way, that she had been falling for her all along without realizing it. “You have all of me,” she told her, cupping her face and pressing a deep kiss to her lips.

In that moment, a weight lifted from Rosé’s chest. If only for the duration of a kiss, she could pretend nothing in the world existed outside of Denali’s apartment. She could stop thinking, stop worrying. It was only them, everything else faded to black. “Are we alone?” she asked against her lips.

“Mhm,” she nodded, a slight smirk tugging at her lips, able to fill in the blanks from there. Her hands traveled down Rosé’s body, tugging off her shirt in one swift motion, her own following suit, though they took their time undressing each other, letting their fingers and lips gently caress each other’s skin.

By the time they were both completely undressed, they had gotten each other thoroughly worked up. Rosé had Denali sit up on the couch, then got on her knees in front of her, pushing her thighs apart. She moved in between them, dragging her tongue along her pussy before circling, then sucking on her clit as she eased a finger into her.

Denali’s head lolled back to rest against the back of the couch, a pleased moan escaping. “Mm, Rosie…” she exhaled, her hips pushing up when Rosé slid in a second finger. “Baby, just like that, feels so good.”

She basked in the praise, continuing her movements, occasionally switching her tongue and her fingers, but never leaving her unattended. She was focused and fervent, bringing Denali to an orgasm as quickly as she could, as if she were setting it as a challenge to herself. Once she’d won her game, she pulled back with a smile, gazing up at her. “God, you’re beautiful.”

“And you’re sappy,” she teased affectionately, leaning down to kiss her. “Come on,” she got up and pulled Rosé to her feet, “we can cuddle until I gotta get ready for my shift.”

——

Nicky watched Jan with a concerned expression. She wished she knew what to do, how to talk to her and help her. Ever since the incident at the club, she had been quiet, withdrawn, two words she would never think to associate with the bubbly woman she loved so dearly. It killed her to see her girlfriend hurting, enough for her to put her aversion to emotional conversations aside as she sat beside her on the couch, gently taking her hand. “Please tell me what’s wrong. You haven’t been the same since what happened with Lemon and I’m worried about you.”

Jan chewed on her lip, her gaze downcast. Logically, she knew she couldn’t avoid this conversation forever, but it didn’t make it any easier. “Lemon is like a sister to me and I’m worried about her. I know what alcoholism looks like… and I know what it can do to someone, it’s not pretty.”

She furrowed her brows, shifting closer to the younger woman. “What do you mean?”

“Well, um…” she swallowed thickly, “my dad’s five years sober now, but it hit a nasty low before it got better. I-I don’t know what that low would be for Lemon, I’m afraid she’s hit it, but I’m even more afraid she hasn’t.”

Nicky nodded as she listened. She had suspected Lemon might have developed a bit of a drinking habit, but not the severity, and certainly not the effect it would have on Jan. “I am so sorry about your father, and about Lemon. Is there anything we can do?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “My dad went to rehab while I was away at college, but I imagine my mom laid down some ultimatums, but I don’t know if Lemon thinks she has anything left to lose.”

“There has to be some way, and I’m going to help you find it,” she promised.

——

“Thank you all for meeting me here,” Juice said as she looked around the two pushed-together tables in the diner. “For those of you who don’t know, my name is Julia - Juice - and Lemon moved in with me about four days ago.”

“What happened?” Rosé immediately asked. “Is she okay?”

The blonde hesitated and looked down at the table. “Technically yes, she’s nursing a hangover at home right now but otherwise fine, unless she’s started day drinking. But there’s a bigger issue, and I’m sure you guys have started to suspect as much. What I’m trying to say is she’s developing an alcohol problem, and if we don’t do something about it now, it could get much worse.”

Everyone else had similar expressions - sadness, concern, anxiety. But none of them were surprised. “What do we do, then?” Rosé asked, breaking a tense moment of silence.

“Listen, I’m not claiming to be an expert. I’m twenty-two, sober for eight months now, so I can relate to how she’s feeling. What she’s going to need is everyone to rally around her, because it won’t be easy to convince her to get help.”

“So can we stage an intervention?” Jaida asked. “Do you have someone we can talk to?”

Juice nodded. “I can talk to my sponsor and have her put us in touch with someone who can get her into a detox, put the whole thing together. It goes so far beyond just telling her to stop drinking, especially in a club environment.”

“Speaking of the club environment,” Gigi chimed in, “we have to address the elephant in the room. What are we gonna do about the Priyanka situation? She told Crystal she’s taking a day job until things cool off, but if Lemon gets help… maybe that’ll expedite the process.”

Jackie sighed, but agreed. “I can open auditions to take on another dancer temporarily, I don’t know how long she’s gonna need, but assuming she chooses to get help, I want her to know she has a place to come back to.” She was quiet for a moment, then added, “I’m going to reach out to Priyanka too, I know she hasn’t been answering most of our calls or texts, but I think I might be able to get through to her.”

“My god, we’ve been so caught up with Lemon, we’ve barely kept up with Pri. Are we bad friends?” Jan asked, feeling a mix of guilt and sadness.

Juice shook her head. “No, of course not. Everyone here is doing their best. You guys reach out to Priyanka and figure out a way to get Lemon to the intervention when the time comes, I’ll do what I can on my part.” From there, they all just had to hope for the best.

——

Jackie took a deep breath, making sure she was calm and collected before knocking on the door. When a woman with black hair and tattoos opened the door, she greeted her politely. “Hi, you must be Scarlett. Um, can you tell Priyanka that Jackie’s here to see her?”

Scarlett nodded, disappearing back into her apartment. There was a solid few minutes of waiting, but Priyanka eventually came to the door. “Hey,” she greeted meekly and led Jackie inside.

Jackie sat at the edge of the bed in the guest room Priyanka had been staying in. “How have you been? You know we’re all worried about you.”

Priyanka’s gaze never left the floor. She picked pieces of lint off of her shorts as she sat down as well, swinging her legs aimlessly. How could she even begin to tackle that question when everything she had ever known had changed overnight? How can anyone process that sort of thing? “Scarlett convinced me to try therapy. I’ve had a couple sessions so far… It helped, I think, but it’s just scratching the surface, you know?”

She listened attentively, nodding along. “I’m proud of you for that. How did your family react when you and Mark broke up?”

“It’s funny, as angry as he was, he didn’t out me. He said it’s clear I have my own problems to work through. My mom was furious that the wedding was called off, so I threw in the ‘I like girls’ news because, well, it couldn’t get any worse,” she sighed. “I don’t think it’s fully hit her yet. She asked me if it was an excuse to get out of the wedding. I haven’t heard back since I told her it was the truth, and I haven’t heard from my dad at all.” She laid back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I couldn’t even say that I’m gay. It’s too much, I can’t just be gay,” she sat back up and grabbed a tissue, quickly dabbing the corners of her eyes. “How do you get past it, Jackie? How do you stop being afraid of yourself?”

Jackie pressed her lips together as she tried to articulate an answer. “There’s no easy solution, but I’m sure you’ve figured that out by now. I don’t think I was ever ready to be gay, one day I just came to terms with the fact that I was miserable trying to avoid my own truth and that the only way I was ever going to be happy was by loving even the scariest parts of myself.”

Priyanka went quiet again, crumpling the tissue in her hand and staring at it as if the answers were there. “So you don’t think I’ll be able to be fully happy until I embrace being gay?”

“That’s for you to decide. But think of it this way; when you think about your future, best case scenario, what is it in your life that’s making you happy?”

The answer for that wasn’t in her hand, it was in her heart. It made its way into her throat, choking her from the inside and making her pulse race. After everything, it nearly made her angry that it felt inevitable. “Lemon.”

——

“Juice just texted me that they’re on the way,” Rosé read off her phone, her free hand squeezing Denali’s tight, her leg bouncing anxiously.

The woman they’d brought in to help Lemon, Widow, nodded calmly. “Remember, at the end of the day we are here to help her. We’re not punishing or lecturing her, but we have to be firm.”

After another review of the plan, they heard the door open and looked up to see the two girls walk in, Lemon’s expression immediately becoming confused as she looked around. “Are you guys fucking intervention-ing me?” she asked as she took the empty seat to the right of Rosé.

“Lemon, your friends and family are here because they care about you and are worried about your health,” Widow explained. “Now, I know what you’re thinking, ‘this bitch wants to send me to some random rehab until I come back sober for good’, but this isn’t like that. We get that you’re twenty-one, fresh out of college, no history of addiction.”

“So why am I here?” Lemon interjected.

Rosé arched her brow. “Well, for starters, you haven’t been sober a full twenty-four hours in nearly three weeks, you’ve been acting completely unhinged every time you get trashed. You’re actively trying to alienate yourself from everyone who cares about you, you-” She stopped short when Denali squeezed her hand, her cue to reel it in. “You’re going down a dangerous path and we don’t want you to get hurt.”

“This isn’t one of those ninety-day programs either,” Jackie chimed in. “It’s only three weeks, and the first five days are just for detoxing. We’re not saying you have to be sober for good, this isn’t AA, it’s a program that’s going to give you the support and help you need to still enjoy things in moderation instead of relying on alcohol as a coping mechanism.”

Lemon nodded and listened as the rest of the group said their pieces to try to convince her to go. And she took it in, but she was also looking around and at the door. After a while, it became clear that she was waiting for - hoping for - another person.

“Priyanka wanted to come,” Jackie told her. “But we weren’t sure how you would react and decided it would be better if she waited at least until after you detox to contact you. You have to know, though, she really does care about you.”

She sunk further into her chair, not angry, but embarrassed. It shouldn’t have had to come to this, she knew that, knew better. And she hated that everything they said was right, that she did need help. “Fine,” she mumbled, “I’ll go.”

There was a collective sigh of relief as the tension dissipated throughout the room. “Rosé and Juice will go back with you to your apartment so you can pack, we’re going to get you checked in tonight,” Widow explained. “The facility is in Westchester, you won’t be more than an hour away and visitation is every Saturday.”

Rosé looked at her younger cousin and could tell she was doing her best to cover her fear and anxiety. She wrapped her arms around her and hugged her tightly. “You’re going to be okay, baby,” she promised, “they’re gonna take good care of you, and you’re gonna be better than ever once you’re done.”

Lemon nodded quietly, wiping her eyes. “I just wanna get this over with,” she mumbled, still unwilling to allow herself to be vulnerable in front of everyone, though the group anticipated that from her and let it be. All any of them could do now was trust the process.

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, mytumbler335!

For @mytumbler335 <3

Read On AO3

*****

Not A Silent Night

“What the fuck.” Summarises Derek’s morning. Dream? No, he’s fairly sure you can’t get a headache in a dream - and there was also the fact that his dreams wouldn’t start here anyway.

Usually his dreams started just as things got more heated - he kind of liked this change in scenery. But this wasn't a dream, and the reality was here; cocooned in a pile of tangled blankets (seriously, what did he do last night?) coated in some sticky substance – which he found was wine (Derek didn’t even drink wine, what the hell?) and engaging in a staring contest of the ages with Stiles Stilinski.

Stiles Stilinski, recent graduate from Berkley (“top of my class, suckers”). Stiles Stilinski, resident pack researcher and Spark in training. That Stiles Stilinski. Who was in his bed. Derek must still be groggy from the hangover considering he hadn’t yet properly had a mental breakdown at Stiles being in his bed. Or maybe it was because he was already having that breakdown. Either way, Derek kept his body frozen - because he was undeniably naked under the sheets.

“Oh my god” Derek would have said something snarky to this, at finally seeing Stiles speechless (a myth that has never been proven until today, and no one would believe him) - at least Stiles was doing better than Derek.

“Oh my god” Stiles repeats. Derek tentatively nodded his head in agreement. It would have been almost funny, the way they rolled onto their backs in unison, if they weren't engaged in a waiting game of who could get their mental faculties back first and break the ice.

“Dude we totally boned.” Stiles didn’t even look bothered by that statement, while Derek was startled into a coughing fit.

“You don’t know that.” Derek managed to cough out. Why would Stiles’ mind go straight to the least likely option? At least it worked on getting them to appear normal.

“We’re both thinking it.” Stiles retorted. Derek wanted to say that no, they weren't both thinking it, because Derek had common sense and supernatural senses. He'd know if it smelt of sex, semen and arousal. Derek really wanted to point out why that would be Stiles' first explanation. “Why else would we be naked in bed together?”

Well...Stiles had a point there. But Derek focused more on the fact that it didn’t even occur to him that Stiles might be naked under the sheets too – and now he couldn’t get the thought of a bare mole dotted arm inches away from his own out of his head.

Derek grunted - which suited as enough of an agreement to Stiles’ assessment to placate him. Mostly, Derek was trying to ignore the heat blazing up his side.

“Okay so how is this going to work?” Derek had absolutely no clue as to what Stiles was referring to, and he told him as much. “How is what going to work?” Stiles only offered him an exasperated look which didn’t belong anywhere on Stiles’ face.

“Well, I don’t see any clothes around and unless werewolves have superspeed like the Flash that I don’t know about, then we’re sitting ducks. Naked sitting ducks ” Stiles felt the need to add on. Derek couldn't exactly tell him that was stupid, since they were sitting ducks (yes, Stiles, naked sitting ducks.) Derek clutched the sheets tighter.

“We can close our eyes.” Stiles provided but Derek didn’t believe for a second that Stiles actually would. It wasn't like Derek hadn't spent the last week carefully monitoring Stiles around his house when he inevitably went looking for his Christmas presents. That had led to some embarrassing moments that Derek would rather not mention.

“Can’t you use your Spark to move the dresser closer.” Not his best suggestion, but how hard could it really be to drag the dresser within arm’s reach? With the power of belief or whatever Stiles said anchored his spark.

“Are you being serious? Like for real, ‘can’t you drag the dresser closer’. This isn’t Harry Potter Derek, I can’t just Accio clothes over here with a flick of my wand-” Or maybe not. “-besides we’re both adults. I’ve seen my fair share of dicks of all colours and sizes – locker rooms are not inclusive to the self-conscious believe it or not – and I know you were on the basketball team in school so you’ve been in the shared showers.” Derek was unabashedly gaping.

“No.” Stiles pouted. “Come on Derek, stop being childish” Stiles said as he sported a wolfish grin to put the actual werewolves to shame. Derek didn't trust that grin.

“No.” Derek didn't falter.

Stiles slumped with a dramatic sigh like Derek was the one being irrational.

“Fine I’ll go first.” Stiles stood with an over exaggerated stretch, showing off the winking dimples in his lower back and the lean muscles from years of running with the supernatural. Despite that display, Derek didn’t fail to notice the smirk that screamed of trouble Stiles threw over his shoulder before sauntering into the bathroom.

“Hey, can I borrow a toothbrush?” Borrow a what?

“What?” Stiles stuck his head out of the bathroom door - only his head, thankfully - the top one.

“Toothbrush?” Stiles sounded way too pleased with himself. “Under the sink.” Derek at least sounded more in control than he actually was.

Derek took Stiles’ absence as a ticking timer to find a pair of boxers – not briefs, definitely not briefs – that would hide his half hard cock. Derek resolutely ignored the way his mind said that Stiles won that round, and his claws that echoed it by almost making an appearance; but Derek did manage to have clothes on before Stiles appeared leaning against the bathroom door. (He counted that as a small victory)

Leaning was a strong word to use for what Stiles was doing – it was more like watching an accident waiting to happen with the way Stiles slowly tipped sideways and slipped away from the doorframe. Derek pretended to ignore the awkward stumble before Stiles caught himself. Although he probably shouldn't have, for the hell Stiles had given him so early in the morning.

“Boxers, really? I thought you were more of a briefs kind of guy” Stiles tried to pull off the cocky tone. Instead he ended up sounding like Jackson - Derek didn't mention that for his own safety.

“How’d you guess?” Derek mustered up Stiles level of sarcasm.

“Your ass deserves the best” Stiles shrugged like it was nothing new. “Also, your laundry basket is full of them.” His...laundry basket?

“What?” Somehow Derek failed to notice that Stiles was not standing in the nude but was sporting a pair of loose briefs that were undeniably Derek’s. Derek didn't know how to feel about Stiles scrummaging through his laundry (lie, he almost puffed out his chest in pleasure)

“Take. Them. Off.” Derek tried to intimidate Stiles but he still looked far too pleased with himself, like Derek was playing into his long, beautiful - stop it - hands.

“Well...because you asked.” That should have been Derek's cue, seeing as Stiles doesn't do things when asked. Agonizingly slow, Stiles leisurely pulled down the elastic band - until Derek could see the barest hint of dark curls.

“Stop!” Derek growled, Stiles paused. Derek ignored the sound of the elastic hitting Stiles' skin. “Why are you even wearing my briefs in the first place?” Derek tried to sound judgmental, but only came off as desperate.

“Well, I figured since we most likely had sex you wouldn’t mind me borrowing your underwear. Also, I needed something to wear unless you want to see the full package.” Stiles saucily winked.

“We didn't even have sex, Stiles” Derek was at the point where he had to stress Stiles’ name. If only he could manage to tell Stiles exactly why Derek knew they hadn't had sex.

“Well either we didn’t have sex or you did it wrong because I don’t feel any different.” Stiles sounded disappointed by that – at which part Derek didn’t know. Derek was only mildly offended, knowing it's intention was to hit his pride.

“Who says I’d be fucking you?” Derek finds himself asking anyway. Derek has to force himself not to do something stupid at the aroused scent Stiles give of on that.  

“Really?” Derek raised his eyebrows, what Stiles calls judgmental face number 4. He didn't even want to know what differentiated numbers 1, 2 and 3.

Stiles had the audacity to look offended “Are you shaming me? Seriously, I am a young, sexually mature-“

“You’re twenty-four” Derek deadpanned. “And sexually mature is pushing it.”

“-and honestly, what were you expecting?” Stiles carried on like Derek hadn’t said anything – nothing new there. “It’s not like you aren’t hot like burning and have an ass like a hockey player, obviously that’s going to make me thing of R rated things.” Stiles used his hands to accentuate his point for him. What point? Derek couldn’t remember anymore. “If we actually did the dirty and I don’t remember it I am going to be so pissed.” Stiles sounded like that might actually be true. Derek couldn't figure out why.

“Did the dirty?” Derek felt the need to point this out, in hopes that Stiles would stop.

It worked, mostly – and Derek was left to blatantly stare at the flushing neck as it flexed and gulped. Damn him. If Erica were here she would laugh right in his face. And then take a picture - or lock them in the room. Or both. Derek can’t truthfully say he would mind.  

“It’s not like there’s any evidence that we did have sex” Derek pointed out to break the second staring contest of the day. (Derek won: Stiles - 3, Derek - 2.)

“I agree” There was something wrong with that sentence coming out of Stiles' mouth. “I mean I feel pretty satisfied and achy after sex so that means we didn’t have sex or we did and it was unsatisfying”  Derek took that as the challenge Stiles wanted it to be.

He barely resisted the urge to growl – especially when Stiles looked so satisfied with himself. Derek wanted to pummel the little shit - and then maybe kiss, lick and bite him.

“Well, there’s only one way to know for sure.” Derek wasn’t about to let Stiles win. Their relationship relied on banter as it was, what's wrong with adding something a bit more intimate to it.

“What?” Stiles looked nervous now, and his gulp was audible from across the room. Derek barely hid his grin. "Scent."  

“If all you need to do is have a sniff of the room, why haven’t you yet?” Stiles sounded dubious.

“Scent is greater taken from a human than from objects” A complete lie that Derek had plucked from a completely bullshit website of werewolf 'facts'. But Stiles wouldn't know that considering his ability to tell if a website was fake almost immediately.

“Sniff yourself.” Stiles thought that was an acceptable solution. Derek didn't even know where to begin explaining how stupid that was so instead he parroted Stiles' words from earlier.

“Now who’s the one being childish?” Derek didn’t wait for Stiles' rant and just stuck his nose in the curvature Stiles’ neck. “Not fair, dude” Was the only thing Stiles could say - what wasn’t fair was how intoxicating Stiles’ smell had become. The arousal had heighted everything that was Stiles. Derek couldn't resist nipping at the skin.

“Dude did you bite me?” Stiles actually sounded offended about this – like he hadn’t made every joke about werewolves and biting in bed. It was just a nip anyway.

“Stop calling me dude.” Derek didn’t know why he tried - except to test if he could still say words. It wasn’t like it worked the other three hundred times. Derek braved a taste. Derek was more than a little smug that Stiles was too worked up to manage an 'ew' at Derek licking him.

“Are you trying to turn me on right now? Because it’s working. Oh my god” Stiles didn't even try to hide his arousal, practically melting against Derek's chest. Derek continued to be smug about that for all of two seconds before Stiles’ hips shifted forward. Derek ignored the feel of Stiles' erection against his - in favour of panicking because Stiles had definitely felt his.

“Dude do you have a boner?” Stiles had an excited tilt to his voice that made Derek want to smother himself in Stiles' neck. Instead he took the still and silent approach.

“Can I help you with that? I really want to help you with that.” Stiles sounded way past want. Jesus Christ. Derek lifted his head to be on the receiving end of Stiles’ innocent face. Stiles wasn't getting out of this one now that he had felt exactly how Derek was feeling.

“Don’t say that and feign innocence.” Derek crossed his arms - which only made Stiles drool.  

“Maybe we could ignore that? For the sake of dignity please.” Stiles actually tried that - like Derek was going to let this go at the matter of dignity. Derek snorted. What dignity?

“No. Why did you offer to do...that?" Derek tried to articulate his point like Stiles - with full exaggeration of his arms. Derek could admit he and Stiles had grown closer from bashing each other's heads into steering wheels but that was one thing - offering to suck his dick was another.  

“Come on Derek, don’t pretend you don’t know about my giant heart boner for you. Please can we just forget this happened.” Stiles waved it off like it was old news. Derek should maybe start paying more attention to the news, if he misses stuff like this. He mouthed the words heart boner – part in amazement at Stiles’ refined vocabulary and well...He didn’t want to acknowledge the other part.

“Does heart boner-” Jesus Christ “-mean what I think it means?” Derek really hoped it did, it probably showed in his voice too - because Derek was just that far gone at the chance he could have this.

“Well, if you think heart boner means that I’m literally in love with you and want to do all the romantic shit with you but also want you writhing beneath me, then yes, it is what you think it means. But the writhing beneath me part is mostly from my actual boner. You can shut me up now...any time.” Derek never wanted to. He wanted the rambles and random rants about inconsequential shit that Derek will never think of again, even at 3 in the morning after fighting off a chimera.

“I do as well. Have a heart boner. For you.” Derek was really about to let that be their love confession story - and he told Stiles as much.

“I can’t believe that’s going to be our love confession story.” It was ridiculous and stupid, but it suited them.

“As long as we don’t tell Erica, we’ll be fine. Or Lydia, otherwise she’ll hold the fact that her parties had a large part in us getting together for the rest of our lives.” Derek didn't even want to think of the pack right now - they were going to be absolutely unbearable for three weeks at a minimum - what he really wanted to do was smother Stiles’ infectious grin. With his face.

“We are getting together right?” Derek shut Stiles up with a kiss instead - he could do that now, and with a lot of other things.

“Now, what did you say about having me writhing beneath you?” Derek didn't care if this was considered going to fast, not when the room was clouding his head with the smell of their arousal.

“Oh god, how can you switch from cute to sexy in under a second. You’re killing me.” Stiles flailed and stumbled out of Derek’s brief with his usual ungracefulness - he teetered at the edge of the bed on one foot, yanking the briefs down his calves where they had somehow gotten tangled. Derek found it endearing – and he didn't want to know what that said about his type.

Derek tried to resist, truly – but in the end he failed. He nudged Stiles’ shoulder where he was still yanking the briefs enough that they probably wouldn't even fit Derek anymore, and watched the balance tip. Stiles yelped as he bounced face first on the bed with his ass in the air. That was an added bonus, and was Derek's cue to take off his own boxers.

“Rude” Stiles huffed, muffled by the pillow – but he still rolled over and spread his arms. “Come here so we can do the dirty.”

Derek huffed as he fell into the warmth. He can’t believe he has a heart boner for this idiot.

[twiceblackvelvet]

Can you do a Nayeon scenario where she gets drunk and it goes something like: Nayeon: I wasn’t that drunk Rest of Twice: You hit on (Y/N) the whole time Nayeon: What’s wrong with that? She’s my wife? Rest of Twice: You cried when she told you she was taken ❤️ I love you btw

A/N; i love this so much. nayeon is the right level of an annoying dork to pull off something like this. but i did decide to twist it a bit. hope you don’t mind anon. thank you for requesting!🖤

Nayeon opens her eyes to her own bedroom, thankfully, that is unfortunately way too bright for her liking. Her head ringing as a pulsation sets about destroying her temple with every second she endures the sun brightly shining through the window. 

Throwing one leg over the side of the bed causes a motion sickness she definitely was not prepared for as her stomach growls loudly both from hunger and nausea. The bridge of her mouth firmly glued to her tongue as she grabs the glass of water a kind soul has left on the dresser beside the bed with what looks to be painkillers, hopefully. 

Whoever decided to be a saint clearly predicted that a hangover would be on the cards, however, she herself is struggling to recall the events of the previous night. The last memory her brain is able to dredge to the forefront of her mind is convincing Jihyo that you can definitely lick your elbow if you try hard enough and have drunk enough tequila. 

Her hands naturally gravitate towards your side of the bed after recalling this tidbit of information unsure if she even saw you last night. Her hand is greeted by a cold pillow only though as you’re nowhere to be found.

Usually, she’d wake up alongside you and receive some form of sympathy for her inability to know her own limits in regards to alcohol. The pain bobbling around inside her head is close to causing a breakout of tears if she doesn’t receive a hug from you soon. 

After a few more seconds with no sign of you showing up, Nayeon decides the correct procedure is to investigate the house and try to figure out what exactly happened last night and where you’ve gotten off to. She stumbles out of the bed almost breaking her own neck in the process after standing on various items of clothing and shoes littering the floor. 

A few steps outside of the doors and she comes face to face with three highly amused faces who not only stayed the night apparently, but also have been anticipating this moment for quite some time. 

“Where’s y/n? Is she still here?” She asks anyone who would be willing to offer an answer out of her collective members currently present. 

After a few glances amongst themselves, Mina decides to break the tension in the room and put Nayeon out of her own self-misery. 

“Just gone to get coffee and groceries, they should be back soon don’t worry.” 

Accepting that as a reasonable explanation for your absence, Nayeon joins the rest of her group around the dining table, head naturally falling into her own arms as soon as she’s seated. 

“What happened last night? I don’t remember drinking nearly enough to be feeling like this.”

Once more the room falls silent as seemingly everyone mentally tries to figure out who should be the one to make today’s episode of ‘Nayeon is Hungover’ even worse for their eldest member. This time, the task falls to Jeongyeon who is way too eager to tell the story.

“You were smashed, like, the worst we’ve ever seen you by far.”

Nayeon raises her head with the force and speed capable of giving even a completely healthy person whiplash, but someone in her condition it’s made even worse as her brain once again sends a thundering bolt of pain to the forefront of her head.

“Yeah, sure. Like I’d trust you Jeong. Dahyun, please... what happened?”

A loud sigh escapes Dahyun before she begins to unravel the events. 

“Well, you were downing shot after shot and we tried to get you to slow down but you wouldn’t listen.”

Finally understanding now where the headache and nausea have come from, Nayeon holds her hand up to stop Dahyun and let her know she’s heard enough.

“That’s not all, actually,”

Dahyun tries to continue but halts her words when Mina nudges her arm gently. “Don’t, she’ll only end up embarrassed and annoyed with us.”

“Don’t what?” Nayeon asks. “What happened?”

A small creak signals the door behind Nayeon has been opened and she takes that as a signal you’ve returned thus she only has a few seconds to find out if she’s done anything particularly offensive or annoying she may need to apologize to you for.

“You kept hitting on her. We tried to get you to stop but you wouldn’t drop it.” Dahyun whispers whilst motioning towards you, something you miss whilst placing the groceries into the fridge and cupboards.

A small chuckle escapes Nayeon, barely audible due to her body not allowing her to exert too much energy.

“That’s fine, we’re married guys, she’ll have loved me trying to be flirtatious, got to keep the spark alive somehow,” Nayeon smirks but quickly notices nobody else finds it humorous.

Jeongyeon’s loud hyena-like laugh breaks your concentration and lures it towards the huddled conversation in the corner of the room. You slowly walk towards the girls crowding your wife knowing they’re likely replaying her drunken antics in-depth. 

“She told you she was taken and you wouldn’t stop crying, we all had to leave because the bouncers thought you were having a breakdown.”

Pushing the chair back out of shock and embarrassment, it collides with your knees as Nayeon turns around to find you bending down to rub where her seat has just assaulted you. For the second time in a twenty-four hour time span, tears begin to flow down your wife’s face.

“I’m so sorry, I can’t believe I’ve just done that or that I forgot we’re married. I’m sorry.” She begs.

Your face twists into confusion at her words as you look beyond her body for some kind of explanation from the three girls still seated, all of which shrug their shoulders.

“It’s okay, I’m not hurt. Though, I’m not quite sure what you mean about forgetting we’re married.”

The stream of water from Nayeon’s eyes dries up faster than it began as she realizes what’s happened here and slowly turns to face Mina, Jeongyeon, and Dahyun as if this were a scene from a movie and she’s just uncovered the villain’s secret plot. Dahyun is quick to hide behind the sleeves of her sweater whilst Mina and Jeongyeon struggle not to laugh. 

“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU GUYS DID THIS AGAIN!” She yells as all three break out into laughter. 

A small grin replaces your previously confused expression as you twist Nayeon’s body back to face your own.

“Sorry, baby. I had to rope them into this to make you try and learn what your limits are. After all, you believed it was possible, right? Imagine if it wasn’t me you were desperately trying to take home last night.” 

You wink in her face before placing a gentle kiss on her cheek and leave the room so she can allow her still hazy mind to unravel the cunning masterplan you believe you’ve hoodwinked her with. But your wife is not the smartest at the best of times, especially not when recovering from a night of heavy drinking so she’s still unsure of what is real and what is false. 

“So did we flirt or not?” She hollers following after you making sure to slap Dahyun on the arm as she passes her. 

For the rest of the day, you endure Nayeon’s endless questions about whether or not she did cry in the middle of a nightclub over her wife being taken by her. Never giving up the secret you’ve decided to keep even after enduring her empty threats of getting it out of you one way or another. 

It is, after all, easier than explaining to her that she didn’t cry but instead turned you into a flustered disaster who needed to drag her home to stop yourself from doing something you definitely shouldn’t. 

[giogama08]

Bokuto Koutarou, Breakfast

This is the first time I try writing with a neutral gender. Please, feel free to correct me if I made a mistake. I have an extremely soft spot for this owl but is kinda difficult to express it… Anyway, enjoy it! Inspiration came from here. Ft Kuroo. As always, sorry for my English.

“What do I do? What do I do?!” said Bokuto with his hands on his head, threatening to rip his hair at any moment. He has been hysterical since he woke up and remembered everything that happened last night. His roommate was starting to lose his patience.

“Bro, it’s okay,” said Kuroo for the eighth time that morning.

“How can it be ‘okay’?!” shouted the two-color hair guy. He was sweating and near a collapsed. Kuroo knows that his friend’s mental breakdown was an exaggeration but once Bokuto was on that state of mind it was extremely difficult to get him out of it. “The first time I get invited to (Y/n)’s house and I stole their toaster! THIS IS THE WORSE THING THAT COULD POSSIBLY HAPPEN!”

“You didn’t steal it” the black-haired tried to calm him down “You were so wasted that you didn’t notice when you took it”.

“And you were supposed to take care of me! How you let this happen?”

“I didn’t expect you will drink that much. I thought your plan was just to go and talk to them”

“IT WAS. But I got so nervous I needed a drink before that” he said, regretting every choice he made last night. Bokuto started to walk through the apartment like a caged animal.

“Well, you know what to do now,” said the smugged-cat “You have to return it” All colors in Bokuto’s face disappeared. “Bro, you look like you’re about to throw up”

“I may as well,” said the horned-owl with a hand in his mouth and the other in his stomach.

✧゜ﾟ°º｡✧｡º°ﾟ゜✧゜ﾟ°º｡✧｡º°ﾟ゜✧゜ﾟ°º｡✧

He felt like he was really about to pass out. His hands were shaking and sweating as he holds your toaster against his chest. He was in front of your house door, wishing that you don’t open. He didn’t have that luck. Once he saw you at the door frame almost forgot how to breathe.

“Hey, Koutarou. Good morning. What brings you here?” You asked in a low voice.

“Hey, (Y/n)! Uhm… During your party last night, I got really drunk and stole your toaster, so… Uhm, I’m here to return it…” He was explaining but stopped abruptly. He noticed that you seemed uncomfortable and were not paying attention. Your eyes were almost close as if you couldn’t open them at all and your frown was furrowed.

“Are you ok?” He asked with a tone of concern. You flinched in pain as an answer.

“Could you please be quieter?” You said with an annoyed tone. ‘They’re having a hangover’ concluded Bokuto. Then, he noticed a strong smell of chemicals coming from inside the house.

“Are you cleaning? You’re supposed to be resting if you’re not feeling well!” He tried not to raise his voice but was surprised you could move with what can only be described as a drill-in-the-brain.

“I had no option. My place ended pretty bad from last night and the smell woke me up” You said, inviting him to enter and appreciate your work “Besides, I’m almost done. I just need to take a shower” You said with an exhausted voice.

“You know, I originally came here to apologize from kidnapping your toaster, so how about I make you breakfast while you… Erhm groom yourself, and we are even?” said Bokuto smiling sweetly at you. You let out a giggle.

“Sounds fair” you thanked him. After you disappeared on your room and the water was heard running, he went directly to the kitchen and froze in front of the oven. ‘But wait. I DON’T KNOW HOW TO COOK!’ he thought in panic. He wanted to sound chivalrous in front of you but didn’t think it through. He liked to cook but the truth was that 3 out of 5 tries always ended in a burned kitchen and pizza for dinner. 

He could hear Kuroo’s voice in his head: ‘What were you thinking?! Are you trying to poison them?’. He was taking deep breathes trying to remain calm because he knew the moment he started to panic that was game over for him. He decided to start opening cabinets and the fridge, looking for an idea. ‘Maybe they have something already cooked that just need to be defrosted’ he prayed without much hope. But he found something just when he listened to the running water stopped. 

He made the dish and set up a fancy table at the speed of light. When you stepped outside, he was waiting next to the seat he has prepared for you. Then, he proceeds to move the chair for you to sit and put a bowl covered by a napkin in front of you.

“I hope you’re hungry. This is probably the best meal I have cooked. Ever! A true masterpiece!” He said with a smile. With a little pause for suspense, he removed the napkin. In front of you was a bowl of your favorite cereal with fruit cut in pieces.

You fought the urge to laugh. Instead, you raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him. He blushed at you.

“Please, don’t be so hard. This is the only thing that I can make without burning down your entire kitchen!”. His explanation melted your heart. You raised from your seat and gave him a quick kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you, Koutarou. It looks delicious!” You said with a smile, admiring your cute plate, not aware that Bokuto was a blushing mess right now.

[iamtheblondestblonde]

Slides and Serendipity

Part Three (4.3k)

Part One   Part Two

AN: Here comes part three. Are you happy with the lengths of the chapters or do you think I should split them up into smaller parts? Feedback is appreciated as always and enjoy

Warnings: Language because Tyler is Tyler

The next morning I woke up with a pounding head. Even chugging water before going to sleep had not helped to prevent the hangover that was now haunting me. I didn’t even want to imagine how Tyler felt as he’d had way more to drink than I did but least he had the day off. 

A cold shower and changing into a comfortable outfit made things better but I still would’ve loved to stay in bed all day.

Yogi didn’t care about my headache of course and wanted attention as soon as I stumbled into the living room downstairs. After throwing his favorite ball a few times in the backyard I could at least convince him to come cuddling with me on the sofa. 

At that point my mind went back to the previous night and the way Tyler had looked at me all evening. On a whim I pulled my phone out to shoot a text to Tyler.

Me: Are you up yet?

I didn’t have to wait long until he sent back a picture of himself buried under Gerry on the couch, similar to my own position. Even sleepy he looked hot as hell, which was definitely not fair to everyone else on this planet.

Tyler: Barely.. My headache is so bad I didn’t even manage to make breakfast yet

I hadn’t gotten that far yet either so I suggested making breakfast together, mostly because I was too lazy to do all the work by myself and also because even though I had only seen him a couple of hours ago, I wouldn’t mind looking at this fine male specimen again.

I wasn’t really in the mood for walking and I definitely shouldn’t be driving in my stage so I decided on the easiest option, putting on roller skates and having Yogi pull me over to Tyler’s house. Perks of having a Husky mix. We had done this a couple of times over the last month and each time I had to do less work in my skates. Yogi was growing up so fast and his genes made him the perfect partner for stuff like this, in a couple of weeks I could probably stop skating altogether and only yell directions.

Tyler waited for me at the front gate to his house and started laughing as soon as he saw Yogi dragging me across the street. He opened the iron gates and then filmed us as Yogi kept running to his front door.

“Before you accuse me of anything, he loves this!”, I yelled over my shoulder as we passed him but I had to laugh as well. I knew we probably looked ridiculous but at least it was great exercise for the dog.

“Do you think I could get one of mine to do this with me?”, Tyler asked as I took of the skates in his doorway, letting Yogi off the leash.

“No way. Cash and Marshall are too lazy and with Gerry you’d end up flat on your ass in five seconds. One squirrel is all it’d take to ruin your day but you’re welcome to come with us sometime. I think you’re too heavy for him to pull though, he can barely do me.”

His pout made me laugh, which kind of didn’t make my headache any more enjoyable but he knew there was absolutely no way Yogi could pull him the way he’d just pulled me.

“You make it sound like I’m fat, this is all muscle baby”, Tyler joked, pulling up the hem of his shirt and flexing. I already knew that he was definitely anything but fat from feeling him up the day before, but I wasn’t going to turn down or interrupt the show he was currently giving me so I kept giving him unimpressed looks.

“You still probably weigh twice as much as I do so that’s too much for Yogi but I could probably do it, it’ll be a great workout for me”

With the way his face lit up at my idea nobody would have been able to guess that this guy probably spent half his life skating around and actually enjoying it, no matter if on or off the ice.

“I’ll definitely take you up on that but let’s do that sometime when I don’t feel like there’s a techno rave going on inside my head”

With that we moved on to the kitchen and Tyler put on some music as background noise for our cooking. Yogi was outside, happily chasing Tyler’s dogs around and taking full advantage of the pool. Rifling through his fridge I pulled out some fruits for smoothies and to snack while he prepared everything for ‘The Best Hangover Breakfast’, aka grilled cheese sandwiches. I was cutting up some watermelon and humming along to the music when Tyler spoke up.

“My friends and teammates have all been texting me nonstop about you, they probably like you better than me already”

His comment made me smile but I was unsure what to respond for a moment. As much as I enjoyed my time with him, I knew what everyone else said about him and it was stuff like this that could cause lots of problems for me in the future if I wasn’t careful.

“That’s because I’m way nicer than you are but they’ll probably never let us play beer pong together again”, I deflected, desperately trying to keep things at a platonic level where I felt comfortable.

“How are you so good at that by the way? I didn’t really peg MIT students as the type of people who would be good at frat party games”

“You’d be surprised really, you’re constantly under so much pressure that you need a way of blowing off some steam and smart people usually have the dumbest ideas. In my junior year for example we were throwing a party in our dorm and calculated the exact number of toilets we needed to flush in order to break the plumbing system. We didn’t really think far ahead though, because we had to use the showers and toilets in other dorms for over a week after that”, I told him and he burst out in a giggle that would have most sorority girls proud, gripping the counter so he wouldn’t fall over. His ridiculous laugh was so infectious that I had to laugh as well, still immensely fond of all the crazy things that had happened during college.

“Sometimes I wish I could’ve gone to college as well, from what I’ve heard most people have a blast there and I feel like I’ve missed out on a lot”, he told me after he’d calmed down, now turned around so he could look me in the eyes.

“I don’t know about that, you kinda got the best of both worlds. You didn’t have daily mental breakdowns during exam season and still got to attend frat parties and stuff. You also get to do something you love for a living, so your life doesn’t look too bad if you ask me”, I responded softly, getting the feeling that he truly did feel like he’d simply skipped over an important part in life. He smiled at me and we dropped the topic, instead continuing a more lighthearted conversation and taking our breakfast outside.

“I’m going to miss having all this time to myself soon. I still have two more weeks until my self-imposed deadline but I need to start buying stuff for my office and take care of all these other things”, I sighed, leaning back on my chair and closing my eyes to shut out the sun. I looked forward to being productive again, but I also really loved doing whatever I wanted whenever I wanted.

“I get what you mean. I have all those workouts and practice still but it’s nothing compared to when the season starts, especially when we want to make the playoffs again. I love hockey and I can’t wait to play again but it’s just a lot sometimes”, Tyler responded and I nodded understandingly.

“For you it’s worse because you’re in the spotlight all the time. If I fuck up that’s on me and reflects only on myself and maybe the people that I’m working with. People blame you for things you have no control over most of the time and get mad all the time”

He nodded and was quiet for a while after that, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. We were simply both lost in our thoughts but still enjoying each other’s presence. Eventually the pounding in my head subsided and Tyler must have felt better as well because he offered to show me around the house.

I was wrong about the waterslide into his pool being as extra as one could get because I hadn’t noticed the small lake with a goddamn fountain and private tennis court the day before.

“We’ll have to play sometime, I’ll wipe the floor with you”, I said after he told me that he didn’t really play that much. It was a mystery to me why he would need a private court in that case but that’s athletes, I guess. I wasn’t even that good myself but I was determined to beat him. He promised to end me in basketball in turn and he was probably right, because that sport had for obvious reasons, mostly my height and tiny hands, never been my forte.

The way he was proudly showing me all of his hockey related belongings was incredibly endearing and his comments were super cute. It was clear that he loved the game and that nothing could stop this passion and I admired him for it.

Quite a while later I made my way back to my house, Yogi almost not wanting to get out of the humongous pool. Once I had the roller skates back on, I got in the mood for it and for the next hour we casually continued skating around, although this time I didn’t let him do all the work. I really needed to stop slacking and look up nearby gyms soon or I could kiss all of my hard work on my body goodbye.

The rest of my Saturday afternoon was spent texting Katie about lunch and in front of my tablet, facetiming the girls so I could relay the events of the day before. Safe to say there was constant screaming, squealing and lots of questions being shot at me. Lisa was incredibly pleased with herself because her plan of getting Tyler’s attention had worked but Emily was worried that it had worked a little too well while Mara kept saying that I was living her dream.

“You need to tone it down a bit, I think. You said you didn’t want to risk your friendship through sleeping with him right now, so you need to make sure that things don’t get this heated again or you’re going to get hurt”, she said softly and I knew she had a point. Keeping my hands off of Tyler for now would be the only way to avoid unnecessary drama. I knew his type and while I usually didn’t mind hookups, famous athletes weren’t the best choice in that department.

“From what you’ve told he sounds incredibly sweet but don’t forget that that could all be an act to get you to sleep with him. Don’t shut him out completely though, just kinda slowly test the waters but stay in the shallow part if you know what I’m getting at”, Mara threw in and started wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. I wasn’t entirely sure I knew what she meant but I also didn’t know if I wanted an explicit explanation on what she considered the shallow part to be exactly.

“And if you really need to get laid to get it out of your system, I have some people in your area I can hook you up with, literally”, Lisa threw in and if there wasn’t a screen between us, I’d have smacked her across the head.

I decided to not have a lazy Sunday for once, as I’d literally had lazy days for almost two weeks straight. Instead I grabbed measuring tape and walked into the second living room, soon to be my office. For the next three hours I was busy measuring everything and slowly putting together a plan on my tablet while also cursing the US customary system of units. I had lived the last seven years in the US and while I had gotten used to the seemingly random numbers over time, I was still convinced that it was only implemented to fuck with people.

The room was thankfully big enough to fit a medium-sized conference table that I’d need and my own desk without feeling crowded. The big windows weren’t optimal because of the computer screens, but they were facing north at least. They would also help to not make this room look like a bunker once I finally had everything I needed.

Happy with the work I had done I finally relaxed on my couch with Yogi curled up on top of me. I was full on prepared to spend the rest of my day with him like this, but Tyler had other plans. We’d only met half a week ago and seen each other every day since, mostly out of his initiative and today would apparently be no different. He asked me if I wanted to watch some movies ‘with the children’ and I invited him over to my place along with the dogs.

Ten minutes later he was standing at my door in shorts and a deliciously tight t shirt, the dogs excitedly circling his legs before greeting me enthusiastically. Afterwards I leaned up to hug him while he joked that I only liked him for the dogs.

“It’s a big part I’m not gonna lie”, I teased and ushered him inside where our children were already running around and playing with each other. They got along so well and it was a very cute sight to see.

“Your place looks really beautiful by the way, you have a great taste for this stuff”, he commented, picking up a throw pillow from the couch to inspect it further. It wasn’t the first time he’d been to my house, but last time he had only really focused on the kitchen because we were both really hungry.

I took him on a little tour around the house and pointed out different things along the way while we updated each other on any possible news.

“This is going to be the office but it doesn’t look like much right now, I have to go and buy all of the stuff that I need sometime this week so don’t judge me”

“I’m not judging but if you need some help I can come with you. I think I have a noon practice when you’re getting lunch with the girls so you can come with them to the arena after and I can take you”, he offered and I mentally had a slack jaw out of surprise. This was nothing like the Tyler that was always portrayed in the media, but I wasn’t sure if it was an act like Mara said or if he was being genuine. I needed to be careful but at the same time I really wanted to figure out why he bothered being so nice with me.

The dogs were following us around of course and I picked up Yogi and carried him upstairs, explaining to Tyler that he was scared of stairs for some reason. He insisted on getting to carry Yogi back downstairs because he thought it was cute. We also kept stopping because he asked me all kinds of questions and demanded stories to most pictures so by the time we finished the tour my stomach was already announcing that it was time for dinner.

“What do you want to eat?”, I asked him once we were back in my kitchen.

“Don’t tell on me but I’ve been craving pizza all day”, he responded and I laughed because he might be 27 but from what I’ve learned so far he’d have the eating habits of a five year old if he could.

“Am I going to get you in trouble if I make us some?”, I asked, already mentally checking if I had all of the needed ingredients in the house.

“You’re going to make me pizza? I was actually thinking of just ordering some but now there’s no way I’m turning that down so it’s going to have to be our secret, I guess”

“I’m not going to make you pizza, we are going to make pizza for the both of us because I really think it’s about time you learn how to make anything besides grilled cheese”, I chided him on his terrible cooking skills. It was a mystery how he’d survived so long without barely any basic knowledge in the kitchen, but I was planning to change that from now on.

I was currently both enjoying and regretting that decision at the same time.

I leaned against the kitchen island next to Tyler, trying not to drool over the way his big hands were working on the dough. I could see his muscles working under that tight shirt and honestly kneading pizza dough should not be this sexy, but Tyler somehow made my thoughts go in directions that were anything but appropriate.

“Can you get my hair out of my face? There’s this one strand that just keeps fucking with me”, he cursed and I laughed, softly reaching up to help him out. He wasn’t wearing a snapback tonight and his hair was all over the place by now, which was kind of cute but also definitely kind of hot. At this point my body didn’t know how to react anymore.

I was taking pictures of him ‘to commemorate these first steps’ and while I couldn’t exactly post any on social media without causing a shitstorm, I sent some of them to the girls, making the groupchat explode with messages. Tyler made me film him and add it to his insta story so he could show off his new skill to the world

Gerry and Yogi joined us on the couch while we waited for the dough to rise. Cash was sprawled out on the floor and Marshall had made himself comfortable on Yogi’s bed. I let Tyler pick out a movie while trying to make myself comfortable next to him. He had one arm resting on the back of the couch and I gradually found myself snuggling closer as the time passed. I had just put my head down on his shoulder when my timer reminded me that we had food to attend to.

I showed Tyler how to properly roll it out and then let him take over. His first try was so terrible that I found myself documenting everything again but the second time around he was doing much better already. With some help from me we soon had two near perfectly round pieces of dough ready to be turned into deliciousness.

Tyler had called me an European pizza snob when I’d told him that I didn’t have any peperoni because I didn’t like the greasy fake taste of the sausage but he let me pick out substitutes for him to add instead. Soon the smell made waiting even harder and I couldn’t concentrate on the film anymore but Tyler rubbing circles on my back probably played a part in that as well.

“You might be a snob but you know how to make pizza like damn”, he exclaimed after taking the first bite and I smiled proudly. America had much to learn when it came to pizza and I was more than happy to broaden his horizon in that department.

“That’s why I try to avoid most Italian restaurants here, the food there doesn’t taste the way it’s supposed to and American lasagna is a disgrace to the Italian masterpiece “

“Like I said, snob”

Afterwards we were cuddled up on the couch again and Tyler let me pick out the next movie. I desperately tried to avoid anything with romance or sex in it because I wasn’t sure I could handle that with him so close to me right now. I was leaning against the armrest and this time Tyler was using my lap as a pillow. I tried to stop myself but eventually gave in and started to weave my hand through his hair, softly stroking his head.

He let out a low hum of pleasure and I couldn’t help the direction my thoughts were now going. This much sexual tension was not normal, was it?

“Now I know why my dogs like you so much, you give the best head scratches, especially with those long nails”, he said and I laughed softly, not knowing what to respond instead.

Halfway through the movie I fully lied down and Tyler put his head right below my boobs, wrapping an arm around my body. Now we were both fully reclined on my couch and he had to rest some of his weight on me so we could both fit but I didn’t mind. I kept my hand in his hair at first but eventually moved downwards, slowly and lightly raking my nails across his back the way I knew guys loved.

“Fuck, this feels so good”, he murmured against me and my mind went straight back to the gutter again. How could it not when he was saying stuff like that?!

By the end of the movie I was close to passing out and Tyler wasn’t any different. He slowly untangled himself from me and then called for his dogs, who had fallen asleep already. He thanked me for the pizza and everything else and then he was out the door, leaving me to fall into a peaceful slumber, my dreams filled with images of him.

On Monday a package arrived for me, even though I hadn’t ordered anything lately. I was suspicious to open it but was rewarded with a new pair of the Givenchy slides Gerry had ruined. There was even a note attached that read:

Still sorry that Gerry chewed on your shoes but I’m also happy I got to meet you because of that

-Tyler

The gesture was so sweet that I couldn’t stop smiling for the next couple of hours. I sent a picture of me wearing them to Tyler, thanking him for the present and another picture of the note to the girls, who were of course freaking out again.

The day after that Tyler texted me to see if I was up for an adventure after he finished his workout at noon, an invitation I’d never turn down.

Tyler: It’s not dog-friendly, but you’re going to love the aquarium here it’s awesome

He told me that one of his friends could watch the dogs, the same one who would sometimes watch them whenever he had to go on roadtrips during the season. He said that this way we wouldn’t have to rush through and could grab a bite to eat afterwards as well. His offer was hard to turn down, so I agreed and quickly showered before picking out a cute outfit and leaving to pick him up. It was time to get some more kilometers on my new car.

“Nice car, is that the SQ5?”, Tyler whistled as I parked in his driveway to let Yogi out, who immediately ran ahead to greet him.

“Get your facts straight dude, that’s the SQ8. I thought you were into cars?”, I teased and stood up un my tippy toes to hug him.

“I am but I never really got into Audis, although looking at that I might have to”, he responded grinning and I lightly swatted at his chest before walking inside where his friend was already waiting. I’d brought stuff for Yogi and made sure that he was comfortable before we said our goodbyes and left. We pulled out on the driveway and Tyler typed in the address of the aquarium.

I let him select one of his playlists and was surprised to hear Justin Bieber blasting through my speakers. This guy was truly unpredictable. It was quite the sight to see this 200-pound, burly and bearded guy loudly singing along and knowing all the words to ‘Love Yourself’ but the hilarity of it had me in tears soon enough. His song choices kept surprising me until we finally pulled into the parking lot. I locked the car and turned around to see Tyler looking at me as if he was trying to figure something out.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but how are you affording all of this? You live in our neighborhood, you wear 200$ slides to the dog park and you drive a car that I’m pretty sure costs well over 100 grand. Do you make this much from developing apps only or is there a side business that you haven’t told me about yet?”, he asked curiously and I mentally flinched.

I didn’t mind talking about money with Tyler per se, he was well off himself for all that mattered, but I always got embarrassed talking about my past. However, if I had to talk about the way I had made loads of money, I might as well do it with somebody who was racking in large sums as well. His life was crazy enough that he might understand me.

“Do you want the short answer or the full story?”

“The full story of course. I got all day baby”, he tried to lighten the mood and I had to laugh at the pet name.

“Consider this your heads up though, it gets kind of crazy at some points”, I warned, before starting at the beginning.

Part Four here

[threeletterslife]

02 | Over the Moon

→ previous | next

→ summary: You feel isolated in the vast American country with no one but your older brother and your six rowdy friends to keep you company. But when they disappear without a trace, you're left with nothing. Nothing until you become dragged into the world of the mob. The mafia world promises glory, fame and big bucks. But that comes with backstabbing, pain, regret and vengeance behind the veils. You're not ready for that alone. Are you?

→ genre: 85% angst, 15% fluff | mafia!au

→ warnings: profanity, scarification, mention of black market, drinking

→ wordcount: 8.1k

You wake up feeling sticky, sweaty, uncomfortable and fucking miserable.

You've never had a proper hangover before, but honestly, you can safely and surely say that this was the first and worst hangover you've ever had. Hopefully the last.

It almost becomes hard to remember the short events that had happened after you'd drunken that clear, devilish liquid, but you force yourself to salvage a few bits and parts. Not that it matters anyways. The conversations at the dinner table last night had been shallow, small talk at best. Rather uncomfortable small talk as well.

Something about the six men was not right.

You shake your head, coughing to get rid of your dry, scratchy throat. A glass of water had been left by Jimin's bed, on the nightstand. You thankfully gulp it down, hoping it washes down the rest of whatever's left of that stupid drink out of your system.

Slowly, you rise out of bed, dragging your feet to catch sight of yourself in the mirror. It shocks you—though it really shouldn't have—that you look like a trainwreck. You're wearing what you wore yesterday, but the clothes are wrinkled, wet from your sweat and (you're not gonna lie) kinda stinky. Your hair looks like a bird's nest and your eyebags are dragging your whole face down.

No surprise, but I look like shit.

You also make the acute observation that you feel like shit as well. The headache you have right now is the worst you've had in your whole life, and that's including the headaches you've harbored during finals in university. Not to mention, you're kind of hungry.

Maybe if you walk around the maze-like hallways enough, you'll come across the kitchen. It'll be like a little morning journey. But when you glance at the clock, you realize it's actually much closer to noon than morning. And by the time you find the kitchen, it might even be time for dinner.

So, quickly, you brush your hair, change out of your clothes into the new ones that had magically been placed in the marble closet and exit your room. Only when you step outside and close the door do the memories come crashing down on you.

Jimin's dead. Murdered. Nonexistent. The only member of family you had left in America, obliterated. This is a mafia house. And you're only here to make a decision, which you still haven't even come to a close to.

All of these six men (your ex-friends) could be murderers—dangerous, brooding people who you want nothing to do with. But you have no choice to be by their side or you'll be killed too. Even worse. Those people had been your closest friends. And now you can barely recognize them. It's like their human soul had melted away, replaced by some robotic heart instead. You can't quite trust them, but they're the only ones you have to trust.

You're in a mess. You can't deny that.

Helplessly, you slide down to the ground, crouching to hug yourself.Fuck. You're twenty-three and should be able to take care of yourself, but right now, you feel like you can't do anything. You're the stupid mouse stuck in an elaborate trap. It's an epiphany for too early.

You find yourself sobbing quietly, cradling your head in your arms as you empty out your chaotic feelings in tears. It must've been minutes, and you've quieted down—hiccupping and sniffling occasionally but at least with steady breaths.

It's okay.You tell yourself.You'll be okay. They're not bad people, your ex-friends. They would definitely keep you safe no matter what, especially if Jimin stressed it so much in his will. Jimin's dead and I can't change that. I'll hurt myself more if I don't accept it. I need to do what's right for me now.

You take a final deep breath before you struggle to stand up. But just as you're about to walk away like you didn't have a mental breakdown right then and there, you hear... crying?And that's definitely not you.

The sound's coming from another door right across yours. Curious and still hazy from the hangover, you tiptoe over. Pressing your ear against the door, you frown. That was clearly some heavy, depressing sobbing. The same sobbing you'd heard a lot of times growing up.

You knock on the door.

Instantly, the crying stops. Jungkook swings the door open with such force, you almost fall into the room. Looking up at him, you see that he looks perfectly fine, and if he had been crying, you could barely tell. He looks down at you with such a stoic face, you almost feel a bit intimidated.

"Hey, you okay?" you ask, trying not to sound so broken despite your internal struggles.

Your heart drops when he frowns. "Why wouldn't I be?" He searches your face, watches as you blink your slightly wet eyes, notices your sniffling nose. "Are you okay?"

"Well... I mean, not really..." You brush it off. "But uh, I heard you cry, Jungkook."

If he wasn't slightly agitated before, he was now; actually, he seemed more pissed off as if you were the thick-headed one. "That wasn't me," he grunts.

"But—"

Then you get the door slammed in your face.

You huff, whirling around too quickly before steadying yourself. "Fucking migraine," you mumble, taking more deep breaths.

'That wasn't me' my ass, you think. Only Jungkook cries like that. He'd cried like that when he didn't make the varsity tennis team in high school. When his stray cat had been run over by an evil vehicle. When he got the news that his mother passed away in Korea. And he'd always let you comfort him when he was feeling down. Now apparently he thinks he's too good for your affirmations.

You huff again.Whatever. To forget about that rude encounter, you decide to go on an exciting journey to the kitchen. Minding your dizziness, you saunter off, taking random turns around the halls. It takes a while, but you finally find yourself in the kitchen.

Once again, the interior designs take your breath away. So does the smell.Someone must've been cooking.

When you stop admiring the surroundings, you notice that Seokjin's sitting at the kitchen island. In front of him are steaming plates of what looks like the best hangover breakfast-er, lunch anyone can ask for—Korean style.

"Sleep well?" He breaks the silence. "Oh, and uh," he points to the dishes of food, "I wasn't sure if you still preferred Korean cuisine over American... But I went with your roots."

You nod slowly. "Thank you. I slept as well as anyone does when they drank too much alcohol... or found out their brother was dead," you say, shrugging. "You're not eating?"

"I already ate. We all did. We didn't want to wake you up. Sorry about the Everclear," Seokjin apologizes genuinely. "Usually it takes thirty minutes for it to knock us out, so we thought we'd have more time to get you in bed. The hangover must be horrible."

"It's okay," you say though you still feel weary. "Everything else feels worse. I think the hangover just enhances it."

With that, you begin to eat. The food is actually incredibly delicious, making you miss your mom's cooking back in Korea. You give your compliments to Seokjin, who gladly takes them with open arms. You eat in silence, nodding or shaking your head as Seokjin asks respectful questions. After the friendly one-sided talk, you express your gratitude for the lunch to Jin (he had been waiting for you in the kitchen, after all) and you begin to walk to your room (which you had asked Jin for directions).

You're feeling much better than you were when you woke up, but yesterday's events still loom over your head.

You nearly collapse on the plush bed when you enter your room. But when your head hits the pillow, it also hits something hard. "Ow," you mutter, frowning. Was this there before?You guess you hadn't noticed it when you were passed out drunk. But now...?

Reaching under the pillow, your hand touches a leather binding. You pull the object out to inspect it, only to see a journal of some sort. The black leather is soft and weathered, and the journal pages look very much used. If this journal was a private diary, it didn't seem like it because it wielded no lock.

You look around your empty room in suspicion. Just in case someone were to pop out of nowhere and see you clutching this mysterious journal.

The very first page is one of those parts in any diary that states who the diary belongs to. And your heart nearly sinks to your stomach when you see the neat handwriting scrawled across the page.

This notebook belongs to Park Jimin, it says. Your eyes tear up just thinking about his name, and your fingers caress the thin pages of paper. It's the notebook that your brother had used to write down his thoughts, his memories...

God. I can't continue on.

You slam the diary, journal or notebook—whatever it really is—shut, hugging it to your chest as you sink back into the bed. You really can't do that to yourself now. There's too much to think about already.

You'll read it when the time comes. When you feel ready—emotionally stable enough—to read the thoughts of your dead brother. For now, you'll have to wait. Wait until you feel less miserable, less confused, more put together. But you don't think you can ever be truly happy again without your brother.

It hurts even more that you had never gotten a chance to say a proper goodbye. And maybe that leather-bound notebook will give you answers? You don't know.

You feel tired already, though it's nowhere near nighttime. So you cry yourself to sleep, keeping the journal in your arms. Just keeping it by your side makes you feel like he's with you, and that you're not completely alone, after all.

Spending one whole week in a mafia home doesn't reveal anything, you've found. Jimin's six friends live a quite pretentious life, but it's nothing that's completely abnormal. There is no gun violence, no drug trading, no black market... well, that you know of. And you've been keeping an eagle eye on all of their whereabouts. So either you were stupidly oblivious or they were just good at hiding things.

For seven days you lived routinely. You can't afford to take another surprise after the surprise that was your brother's murder. In fact, the pain's reduced to an uncomfortable, numb feeling at the pit of your stomach that never goes away. Still, you're not weak. You plow through the minor pain, the emotional turmoil because that's what Jimin would've done.

You pretend you're okay in front of the others. It's probably the worst thing to do to show your vulnerability to gang members, anyway. And speaking of the gang members... it's strange. In one way, they seem so different from the people you were best friends with in your childhood. But in another... they're also completely the same.

Seokjin had always been a rather quiet leader—whether he liked it or not, people were inclined to follow him. Back then, he would always be team captain in junior high sports games or the orchestrater in any group project. But now... you had a huge suspect he was the so-called 'boss' of this gang. He was always a warm figure in your past. Comforting, caring, compassionate. He seems to be all these things now too. Yet somehow... he's also so cold. He smiles and it stretches his lips, makes his eyes sparkle, but something in you tells you it's not as genuine as you would like it to be.

Then there's Namjoon. He's actually the first friend Jimin made in America, thus the first friend you made in America as well. He was always so dedicated to research, born with this innate intelligence that made him literally unmatched in junior high and high school academics. No one could beat him in the math club or debate club... or Science Olympiad. He was the logic of the group as you remember, a role that matured on him quickly. One time you walked in on him in eighth grade playing chess by himself—to beat himself. But aside from his naturally pedantic self, Joon was more compassionate than he let on.Joon. The nickname Jimin had used to call him. It's a name that doesn't fit him now. Not when his presence in any room brings chills to your skin. Or maybe you're imagining it?

Yoongi doesn't seem like he's changed much, but only because you never really got to know him. The only memories you have of him are Yoongi sitting quietly in the corner, watching the seven of you bicker. It amused him to be observing hilarious banter—banter that he never took part in. He was naturally a bit shy and indifferent, but you know he really cares when he worries about you. He'd be the first to hand anyone a box of chocolates or a store-bought lollipop if they felt down. Yoongi had been the first to approach Jungkook after he had gotten news that his mother had died. Now? You can't tell if he's changed much. Other than the fact that his stoic face looks more tired than you remembered it years ago.

Hoseok is a different story. It's like he's changed the most out of everyone. You always knew he had firm opinions, but he never bothered to voice them as a kid. Unable to understand the language of sarcasm, he had always been teased by you and the other boys in the early years. Now, it seems like if anyone teased him of anything he'd snap and yell. And boy, he looks fucking scary when he's angry or even serious. These days, it looks as if he has absolutely no trouble at all voicing his thoughts. And sometimes, his sharp tongue gets him in trouble during 'family time' meals.

Taehyung was always kind of loud, sassy and outgoing, and he still is. Except you think he now has some infatuation with females. It's easy for him to start talking about all the hot ones he saw while working his shift in the restaurant. Though the talk makes you feel slightly uncomfortable, it's still a nice break from the other men who are so damn serious. It's weird that sometimes, you find yourself searching for Taehyung's company these days. You, of all people, searching for someone else? Unheard of. Until now.

Ah, Jungkook. He's the boy you remember as the most empathetic person you've ever met. When you were thirteen and fell off your bike after Taehyung told you he'd do your math homework if you rode your bicycle with your eyes closed, Jungkook cried with you. Like hell, you'd taken quite a fall, and that bloody cut was fucking painful—you still remember. And it was like Jungkook felt your pain. He feels everyone's pain. It's only sad because you think he's trying to repress his empathy these days. You recall when he had slammed the door in your face because you had rightfully accused him of crying over Jimin's death. He used to wear his heart on his sleeve, but now he's trying to be stoic. And maybe for a good reason.

You just wonder what Jimin's like. If he had changed as drastically as Hoseok or as little as Yoongi. Maybe like everyone else he got a little bit colder? More merciless? The thought chills you, though you're ready to know.

Making yourself comfortable in your bed, you pull out Jimin's black notebook. It feels heavy in your hands. You take a deep breath, then open it to the second page, where the first entry is.

Immediately, you recognize the handwriting, and you find yourself fighting the urge to tear up again. The date of this entry is the year he had dropped out of college and disappeared. You steady your breaths, and finally, begin to read the neat writing.

I can’t believe I’m in the mafia. I mean, I’ve thought about it for years, wondered what it would be like... if I’d even feel a difference. But I don’t. I feel the same. But this blood that courses through my veins... It doesn’t belong to me anymore. It belongs to us all. The Crescents. Beautiful name, isn’t it? Joon and I came up with it years ago and decided it was finally time to put it to use. It’s my dream come true, actually. Being in the mafia with the people I would die for. I’m ready for anything with these six people by my side. 

You stop. There's a certain eagerness in Jimin's voice that hurts when you come across it. Warmth blossoms in your heart when you see how much love and trust he puts in his friends. It's Jimin's voice, alright. The passion, determination, love is all there.

The entry is rather long, but you just can't bring yourself to read the rest. Not when it brings back so many memories... No, I'll go reverse chronological order. Maybe in the later entries, Jimin will sound less recognizable; it won't make you as sad to read it. You'll come back to this first entry later. But definitely not now.

You breathe out a breath you hadn't even known you'd held. And the emotion you feel next is something you didn't expect.Anger.

What kind of fucktard in their right mind would kill someone like him? Someone innocent, kind, passionate, diligent? Someone who had such big dreams coupled with a heart bigger than anyone else's?? Jimin's eyes were always shining with curiosity or determination. What would it feel like to be the person who rid him of that sparkle?

Your blood boils just thinking about it. Twenty-four is too young to fucking die. Your head hurts as you close the diary shut.

Now it's in your best interest to stay... to join.You want revenge on the bitch that killed your brother, and you can't do that all by yourself. Seokjin was offering you help for vengeance. And a week later, you realize that you need just that.

You feel so much better finally making the executive decision. It's like the massive weight on your shoulders had been lifted, magically.

When dinner time comes, you parade into the dining room, feeling confident (which was probably fueled by your anger). "I want to join you."

Taehyung gives you a funny look. "Sure? The wine's here if you want a drink."

You shake your head, frustrated. "No, I want to join... I want to be a part of your gang."

Everyone except Seokjin raises an eyebrow.

"And that's... not an impulse decision?" Namjoon asks, sipping his wine.

"It's... Yeah, it's not an impulse decision."

Seokjin nods, thoughtfully. "Great, Y/N." Everyone watches as he carefully thinks of his next words. "You may sit and eat, now."

What?

You'd spent a week deciding, and that was his reaction? You still don't know anything about this gang (which is a huge risk on your part), and you decided to join. And that's how he's going to react?

You watch everyone else's faces, but they're as unreadable as ever. Frustration ensues as the rest of dinner goes on as if the declaration of your decision had not happened. Feeling a little neglected and pissed off, you poke at your sushi the whole time.

Only when Jungkook and Taehyung start taking the dishes away does Seokjin mysteriously show up by your side. "Follow me, Y/N."

"Just me?" you whisper, though you don't know why.

Jin nods, helping you stand up as he swiftly guides you away from the dining hall. He leads you, hand on your back, to the enormous patio in the backyard. It's not chilly out, thanks to the California weather, but you shiver at the weight of Jin's gaze on you.

It's silent for a while as both of you collect your thoughts. Then Seokjin speaks. "I just wanted to make sure you know the commitments of being involved in us."

"Well, I wouldn't know because it was never specified," you say a bit crossly. "I'm blindly joining, you know? For the sake of Jimin. I'm getting my revenge."

"Ah, my apologies," Jin says. "You'll be informed of your exact commitments later, but what comes first is your oath. We're a family around here as you know..."

You let out an embarrassing gasp when he tugs his t-shirt down so suddenly. Jin chuckles at your reaction before guiding your eyes to the mark... burned on his collarbone.

"Well, that's not a normal tattoo."

Jin laughs quietly. "It's our gang symbol. A crescent-shaped scar that ties us all together. We're called the Crescents."

But you knew that already.

"Oh," you breathe. The scar looks delicate, not larger than a thumb for that matter. But it holds heavy meaning and you tremble slightly as you stare at it in awe. "Does... Does everyone have that?"

"In different places, of course," Jin nods before straightening his shirt, hiding his mark from view.

Your voice shakes as you ask, "Where's Jimin's?"

"I knew you'd ask that," Jin smiles. "It was on the back of his neck. And before you ask why, it was so we would always be watching his back for him... Granted, we... w-we failed." You hear a slight tremble in Jin's voice. "The biggest regret of my life."

You suck in a breath, contemplating whether you should pat his shoulder to comfort him or not. The usually stoic and guarded Seokjin was showing emotion, a rather rare sight. But it's gone as fast as it came.

"Anyways," Jin says, clearing his throat. "We'll have your ceremony soon. Don't worry," he smiles, one foot already inside the house, "the scarification doesn't hurt that much." With that, he walks away, leaving you outside in the night, alone, curious and mystified.

Am I making a mistake?

When Seokjin had told you with his soft-spoken voice that the ceremony would be 'soon,' you'd expected it to be in a few days, or even in a week, tops. You did not expect it to be the very next day.

In fact, you were totally taken by surprise when Jungkook had woken you up quite nicely and told you to get ready for the ceremony. He'd left the room while you changed and freshened up, but you took so long getting ready, he almost opened up the door to check on you. But what can you say? You were stalling for a reason.

Partly, you were afraid of the physical pain. You had tried to ask Jungkook how much scarification actually hurt, but he'd told you not to worry about it.Bullshit answer. But another, deeper part of you feared what the scarification would symbolize... This was it, right? You were going to leave your past life and enter the mafia world. The world that killed your brother.

And you weren't going to leave until you got your revenge.

"Y/N?" Jungkook calls, shaking you from your thoughts. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah," you call back, running a hand through your hair. You're terrified, but you won't be able to show it.

Jungkook peeks his head into your room, giving you a reassuring smile. "Ready?"

You nod. "Mhm."

"There's nothing to be afraid of, really," he tells you as he opens your door a bit wider. From behind him, you can see Taehyung grinning right at you.

"If this big baby can do it," Taehyung snorts, pointing at Jungkook, "then so can you."

Jungkook gives Taehyung a disdainful look, which sends Taehyung into a fit of laughter. You appreciate that they're trying to alleviate the obvious tension on your shoulders, but unfortunately, you're not sure if you'll ever feel relaxed again.

"C'mon, Y/N. They're waiting for us," Tae announces, bowing dramatically before jutting out his hand for you to take. You hesitate for the slightest second before you take it.

From there, Jungkook and Taehyung guide you around the winding halls of the mansion. By now, you would've thought you'd get used to the size to some degree, but the home is apparently way larger than you thought. Past at least twenty doors and fourteen thousand medieval portraits later, you were standing in a large basement.

The room glowed a warm, amber color, but you didn't feel warm at all. When you catch sight of the wall with all sorts of sharp metal welding sticks, you take a terrified step back, accidentally bumping into Jungkook. He places a reassuring hand on your back, but it does little to calm your nerves.

"Relax, Y/N," Seokjin says. Your head snaps up to look at the man who had spoken, and your face is stoic but your eyes hold terror. It's then when you realize everyone else is in the room.

Of course. It's a ceremony. Can't have a goddamn ceremony without other people.

"Here, Y/N. You can sit here," Jin says as he gestures to a comfy-looking seat that was placed in the middle of the room. "It'll hurt less than getting an actual tattoo."

"But I've never gotten an actual tattoo before..." you mumble as you cautiously take your seat. Even though the cushion is plush, you still sit rigidly.

"Don't worry. It'll be fine. High pain tolerance?" Yoongi asks.

"Uh... I dunno," you answer truthfully. "Not really."

"You'll be fine," Hoseok sighs. "It's only strike branding, so the heat will be gone as soon as it came. It'll take anywhere from half a year to a year for it to heal completely, though. Anyway, the feeling's enough to make you regret it, but it'll be over in a few seconds."

His words do not calm you. As per usual.

"Yoongi will be orchestrating the scarification," Seokjin says. "Nimble fingers. He'll try to make it quick, right?"

"Yeah, right," Yoongi mutters. "Where do you want it?"

"What about under your boob? That's trendy these days." Taehyung snickers, nudging Jungkook who breaks a small smile.

You frown, just about to give him a piece of your mind when—

"Get out," Namjoon growls.

"Can't. Ceremonies are a family deal. Can't just kick out family, can you?" Taehyung snickers. "Besides, Y/N didn't mind. It was just an innocent joke."

"I'm not going to repeat myself," Namjoon warns. And the way he grits his teeth has you almost shaking in fear. But Taehyung doesn't seem to take the hint.

"Maybe you should go..." Jungkook whispers.

"Bullshit," Taehyung snorts. "Jin?"

Jin sighs as he looks warily at the trouble-causing man. "You can stay, but not another word."

Namjoon huffs and he rolls his eyes as Taehyung grins gleefully, making a motion of locking his lips and throwing away the key.

You watch the whole ordeal spread out before you, opened-mouthed. What the fuck just happened??

"Well?" Yoongi softly asks you as a reminder to answer.

"Uh, sorry," you hesitate. "I want it on the back of my neck."

Like Jimin's.

"Like Jimin's," Yoongi repeats your thoughts.

He watches as you shiver slightly in fear and for the slightest second, he feels pity. "If it helps you, you're welcome to close your eyes," Yoongi says. Still shaking, you nod, doing so. "Just... don't move."

"Okay," you squeak out.

You can feel Yoongi sweep your hair to the side, his warm, delicate fingers tracing the area on the back of your neck. You can feel goosebumps rise, and you pray that Yoongi doesn't see them.

"Take slow, deep breaths," Yoongi mutters.

Breathe, you tell yourself. If Jimin did it, I can.

The soft clinks of metal make your mind go foggy, and you can't seem to concentrate on anything except the imminent pain. You're shaking and you can feel your hands accumulating sweat.

"Relax..." Yoongi says. He waits for you to calm down for a few seconds before asking: "Ready?"

You grit your teeth, sit a bit taller, shut your eyes tighter and nod.

"Alright."

You gasp loudly and jump slightly when the searing heat touches the back of your neck. Immediately your face twists in pain, and you can't seem to catch your breath. You're seconds away from screaming that you want it to end when the scalding heat is gone. So you're left gasping, tears brimming your shut eyes as you feel Yoongi softly taking your hair and tying it up so it doesn't touch your burning skin.

"Don't drink too much alcohol or caffeine while that's healing," he instructs formally. But when he notices you're not answering, he asks, "Hey, are you okay?"

You exhale loudly, clenching your fists as your eyes flutter open. Your sight is a bit blurry through your tears, but you're pretty all right. Well, the back of your neck is killing you, though.

"I'm fine," you manage to mutter. "I'll live."

"Here," Yoongi says, handing you a tissue for your tears. "Congratulations, by the way."

Fuck. It's then when it really dawns on you.

"I'm a Crescent." You wipe the last of your tears away to see Seokjin smiling proudly at you.

"Welcome to the family, Y/N," Jin says. "How does it feel so far?"

You pause. Then, you frown. Compared to what Jimin had written what being a Crescent would feel like, you felt nothing special. You don't feel any different either, except for the stupid pain on the back of your neck. The world spins and you're left feeling dizzy.

What have I done?

"I..." you trail off. "Sorry, I think I need some time alone." With that, you dash away from the amber-lit basement and miraculously, find your room in a matter of minutes.

In the comforting depths of your room, you crawl into your bed and desperately pull out Jimin's journal. You need all the reassurance you can get. That this wasn't a mistake. That it was the right choice.

It had been cowardly of you to flee your new 'family' like that... but you couldn't bear to sit there with all the attention on you when you weren't even sure you'd made the right decision.

With shaking, careful hands, you flip to the last entry of Jimin's journal. Maybe this will offer a sort of relief? A break from the disaster that could be unfolding before your eyes. But as your eyes start to take in the words that Jimin had written in his journal, your faith in your decision fades. You are not relieved. You are horrified.

Cold day today. California shouldn’t be this fucking cold. It’s harder to get the job done when my mind’s only focused on how freezing my toes are. Too many things to do, such little time.Don’t remember the last time I got rest. Tae wants the three of us hitmen to go get a drink at the bar. I’m not feeling too particularly down for it. Knowing JK though, he’d do whatever Tae suggests. Guess I’ll go then. Have to get ourselves mentally ready for tomorrow, anyway. Can’t afford to get wasted. Maybe I’ll switch Tae and JK’s drinks out with water and tell them it’s Everclear. Won’t be the first time I’ve done it. I have a feeling it won’t be the last. 

You stare at the short journal entry in shock.

What... What was this?

The emotion, the passion, the light, the love is nowhere in the writing. Your brother had sounded tired and it was depicted in his rather messy scrawl. Usually, his handwriting was so neat.

Now you're having second thoughts. How much did Park Jimin change? How could the man who had written this entry be the same boyish brother you'd known for nearly all your life?

He sounds so cold and distant that you feel cold and distant as well. What had the mafia done to him?

Oh god. What have I gotten myself into? Can I back out? Is it too late?

The only reassurance you had is shattered.

The knock on the door also shatters your thoughts.

You quickly drop Jimin's journal, stashing it away under your pillow as you look at your closed door with alertness. There's another knock when you don't answer the first time.

"Hey, Y/N? You there?" Taehyung calls. "I'm sorry about that joke earlier... if that's what made you uncomfortable enough to run away."

Shit.

That's Taehyung. And there's no doubt that Jungkook's with him too.

You feel like you'd just been caught gossiping about both of them behind their backs. Well, it wasn't completely false. It'd just been revealed to you that those two are hitmen... And your brother hadn't been particularly fond of their antics. Besides, it sounded a lot like Jimin had to pick up after Jungkook and Taehyung's messes.

But you bite your lip and force yourself to respond. "I'm here," you call out dejectedly. "And you're fine... I wasn't that offended."

"Well, Y/N, we, uh... we're here to escort you to a meeting," Jungkook says. "You know, since you're..." he trails off.

"Right," you mumble. "Just... wait a minute. Please."

Hurriedly, you try to redo your hair in a messy bun and straighten out your clothes. Hopefully, it doesn't look like you've just had a midlife crisis. You take a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm down your spiked heart rate. Then, you come out of your room looking pretty put-together.

"You good?" Jungkook whispers. "Your face is a bit red." He reaches over to place the back of his hand to your forehead, but you flinch away.

"No, I'm fine," you quickly say. "I don't have a fever."

Jungkook nods quietly and steps back to give you some space.

If Jungkook was offended by the way you flinched away from him, he didn't show it. If Taehyung was mad that you left suddenly after your ceremony, he made no mention of it. The usually chatty Taehyung was actually pretty quiet the whole walk to this meeting place. And it was a good thing too. The silence lets you drown in your thoughts.

Who can you trust now?

As you, Jungkook and Taehyung approach a room with large, mahogany doors, you can hear broken arguments being yelled at inside. The yelling makes you frown and you perk your ears to listen closely. You're able to make out words but not the speakers.

"We haven't had a new member in six years. She can't possibly adjust to this new life! She's not like us! She had no desire for this and you know that!"

"She's with us now. We just had the ceremony for fuck's sake!"

"SHE FLED FROM HER OWN CEREMONY!"

"THE MARK IS STILL EMBEDDED IN HER SKIN!"

The last statement sends a twinge of pain to the burn on your neck and you almost step back at the force of the words. It sounds like some people don't want you here.

You look to Jungkook and Taehyung to see their reactions, but they're as stoic as ever. Instead, Taehyung knocks loudly on the doors and the bickering voices dwindle to a pause.

The doors slowly open and behind them, you're able to make out the four others. Yoongi looks pissed off, Hoseok's red in the face and Namjoon looks very annoyed. Seokjin is the only one who seems to have kept his composure in the argument.

"Welcome, Y/N," Jin speaks. If they suspected you heard their arguments, they didn't make a show of it. "As you may know... well," he trails off, smiling fondly at you. "We'll continue this discussion somewhere more private."

You frown in utter confusion until Namjoon presses a hidden button somewhere on the wall and enters a code on a number pad that appeared out of nowhere. A whole new door opens up before you.

A secret room?

"Come," Jin says as he smoothly walks into the new room. You follow hesitantly with Jungkook and Taehyung by your side.

The other room is completely white minus the large table and chairs in the center. As soon as everyone steps in, Jungkook shuts the door, which disappears into the wall. Now, it looks like there's no escape from the blinding whiteness of the room. You feel like you're reduced to dirt in this vast oblivion, and Jin must've sensed your uncomfortableness.

"Here, Y/N. You can sit here," Jin gestures to one of the chairs beside the power seat. "No worries. This is just a soundproof room we use to discuss our matters." He smiles at you again. "I think it's time we finally tell you more about us."

"I think it's about time too," you mumble as you slide into your seat.

You had never been one to make such impulsive decisions... And even though you'd been pondering whether to join the Crescents for a week, you still feel as if your decision had been on a complete whim. That impulse had definitely been fueled by your desire for vengeance. Without knowing anything about this gang except the members involved and the name of it, you've joined. And now their mark is burning in the back of your neck.

"Well, what would you like to know?" Seokjin asks. He motions for everyone else to take their seats and they do, obediently. "We have all the answers."

You raise your eyebrows. "What... well... What are the Crescents?"

"That's ambiguous, don't you think?" Hoseok snorts. "We're a lot of things."

"We're a small gang, as you can see," Jin says, ignoring Hoseok's snarky comment. "We try to stray from street violence as an unspoken rule. And well, we make our immense profits through the black market."

Your face scrunches.The black market, huh?

"We don't engage in prostitution or drug dealing, if that's what you're thinking," Namjoon says. "Though I can only speak for myself." He glares at Taehyung who rolls his eyes so hard they disappear up his head for a few seconds.

"Yoongi and I are in charge of the sales," Hoseok sighs, shrugging. "Not the best job. But not the worst."

"The sale of what?" you ask. But you don't know if you want an answer.

"Sale of weapons, of course," Taehyung grins. "We have good connections everywhere."

Ah. Things are starting to click. Of course, arms dealing would make a lot of money—especially in the mafia.

"But sometimes, JK and I get to test these weapons out..." Taehyung smiles. "Only if Boss permits it."

Boss?

Your head whirls with all sorts of new information that had been kept from you until now.

"You're... You're the boss." You look at Seokjin dead in the eye, cocking your head.

"Was I that obvious?" he chuckles. "And since you've figured me out, I'll indulge you in the rest. You see, Namjoon's the underboss. Yoongi and Hoseok are right under him as our dealers... And Jungkook and Taehyung are our hitmen."

Right... Of course. Now it was all too obvious. But...

"What am I gonna do?" you ask.

"Nothing," Namjoon quickly says. "You won't have to do anything."

"She's a Crescent now," Hoseok snaps. "She's responsible for something."

Before Namjoon retorts back, Jin cuts in. "You'll be working alongside Yoongi and Hoseok, Y/N. We were hoping that your master's degree in economics will help us out." He notices your hesitation again. "Don't worry. It's not a dangerous job at all. Yoongi and Hoseok will teach you the ins and outs of it, soon."

You nervously look over at Yoongi and Hoseok who are apparently your new 'co-workers.' Yoongi's stoic as usual and Hoseok looks like he couldn't care less. Some welcoming new co-workers you have.

But it doesn't matter. You're here for one thing and one thing only.

"What are we going to do to avenge Jimin's death?" you say, crossing your arms. "I want to take part in that."

"Of course," Jin nods. "Soon. It'll be very soon."

The last time Jin had claimed something would be soon, it had been the very next day. You feel just a little bit calmer when you realize you might be getting your revenge sooner than you thought.

"Good..." you mumble. "Is there anything else I need to know?"

Hoseok laughs. "Oh, Y/N, we haven't even begun."

4 a.m.

You've been staring at the same damn ceiling for nearly two hours now, but you can't get yourself to fall back asleep or even get out of bed.

You try not to think too much about what you've gotten yourself into, but it's hard not to when you're all alone in the dark with nothing but your thoughts. You can't take the stupid silence anymore.

Suddenly flinging the bed covers off, you get out of bed to reach under your mattress where Jimin's diary was. It's an instinctive, impulsive move that shocks you. The last time you'd read that diary, your hopes had shattered—your brother had felt foreign to you. But somewhere inside of you believed that if you continue reading, you'd be able to see the older brother you'd thought you'd known all your life. The more, the faster you read, the quicker you'll get to see the old Jimin. The one who wasn't tainted by the mafia. The one who didn't sound so cold. The one who you loved dearly.

So you immerse yourself into the words. The entries that Jimin had left (probably unknowingly) for you to read.

But time passes too slowly.

Maybe you're tired, or the writing is bland. You don't know. Whatever you're reading sounds too far off from your brother for you to fully believe in it. The events he describes seem to drag on endlessly without a peak in the story. Maybe you should just call it a day...?

But you don't feel tired. And your room isn't interesting to stare at after two hours of already doing so. You know what? I need to get out of this room.

You carefully tuck the diary back under your mattress and creep out of the room to find the hallways completely dark. There's something solemn about it, something you can't quite put a finger on. The place is so grand but there's an undeniable heaviness drenching the walls; or maybe that's just you, mourning over your brother. But being out of the confines of your room is better so you begin your little nighttime journey.

Honestly, you don't know where you're going. You're just letting your feet carry you as you try to keep your mind as blank as possible. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot. Left. Right. Left. You stare at your feet as you mindlessly wander around the hallway.

It's actually quite a peaceful time, and you find yourself getting more tired by the minute as if the walking was lulling you to sleep. After taking a few more steps, you decide to just go back to your room and call it a night. Maybe you'll wake up the next day feeling a bit better?

Just as you're about to find your way back to your room, you hear voices. Loud, kind of pissed off, whispers. They are too muffled for you to make out what they are saying so you begin to tiptoe towards them.

When you come close enough to hear, you can also make out the presence of Yoongi and Namjoon. But you have to squint to see their facial expressions. Yoongi is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed as Namjoon is frantically gesturing and pushing his hair back in frustration.

"She reminds me of him too much," Namjoon says, massaging his forehead.

"I know," Yoongi mumbles, sighing as he relaxes against the wall.

"Whenever I see her, I can't help but think of him and it's absolutely horrible. It's like the ghost of Park Jimin is walking down these halls... but it's just Y/N. Doesn't it hurt to look at her and see Jimin's face?"

"Of course it does," Yoongi sighs. "We can't do anything about it, though. Boss wants her here and so does everyone else."

"But you know what everyone else's intentions are," Namjoon scoffs. "Call him Seokjin, for god's sake, Yoongi. He's not even around."

"Fine. Seokjin wants her here."

"Yet she shouldn't even be here," Namjoon sighs.

"I know..."

"But you work with her now," Namjoon says. "You should do something. Get her to leave."

Yoongi sighs a second time. "As much as I'd want to, you know we can't."

"You're right..."

"I know that too," Yoongi sighs.

You frown as you watch the conversation unfold before you, wondering what on earth the intentions the others had. And it hurt to hear that you reminded Namjoon too much of your dead brother... After all, he was the man that your brother had cherished the most. But it wasn't your fault that you reminded them of Jimin. In fact, you were mourning just like they were.

So other than Namjoon and Yoongi, what was keeping the other men from agreeing to your stay? What were their intentions?

You're lightly surprised at yourself that you're not that infuriated by Namjoon nor Yoongi's words; but you realize that you're more saddened by the thought that your presence is actually hurting others, instead. Just when I thought I could have a relaxing night's sleep.

But maybe if you go to bed right now, you won't remember this ever happened? You're kidding yourself, but it had just been an excuse to get out of the dark halls at the ass crack of dawn. Of course, right when you turn to move, the floor creaks.

"Y/N?" Namjoon calls.

Shoot.

You freeze.

"We can see you," he says.

I guess there's no use hiding now. No use denying anything, either.

You hesitate for the slightest second before walking closer to the two men. "I heard you two," you confess, awkwardly putting your hands behind your back.

"We realize that now," Yoongi mutters under his breath.

"Listen," Namjoon sighs, scratching his head, awkwardly. "It's nothing against you, alright? Please, don't be mad, Y/N. I wanted you to leave because this is a dangerous business. You have to understand that we're asking you to risk your life every day."

"We're only saying this might not be the... correct lifestyle for you," Yoongi says. "It's been a lot to take in in such little time."

"Are you sure it's not because I remind you too much of Jimin?"

Namjoon visibly flinches, but Yoongi doesn't blink an eye. "We want you to be safe for Jimin's sake," the shorter man says as he readjusts his position leaning against the wall. "I just don't think he would've wanted you here."

"Wrong words," Namjoon groans, burying his face in his hands.

"Yeah..." you raise your eyebrows. "What do you mean? Jimin wrote in his will that he wanted me here. And I'm here to keep myself safe—that's what Jimin would've wanted."

Yoongi sighs. "Nevermind."

"You can't just drop a bomb on me and tell me it's nothing," you say. "You don't want me here for a reason and that reason is that I remind you of Jimin too much. You said the others have other intentions, which is why they agreed to keep me here. I want to know."

"I think you're overstepping your boundaries," Namjoon grunts. He suddenly towers over you, straightening his chest and back as he stares intimidatingly into your eyes. If he's using his position as the apparent underboss to scare you away, you're not going to back down. Instead, you take a step forward towards him.

"Boundaries?" you scoff. "What makes you think you can draw boundaries for me? I'm the one in charge of that."

"Both of you, calm down," Yoongi says. "Y/N, the rest of us wanted you here to honor Jimin's last wishes, all right? There's no need for a verbal fight. It's too early in the morning. You should go to bed."

Why does it feel like he's making up bullshit to get me to leave?

"I'll escort you back if you want," Namjoon offers, scratching the back of his head.

You shake your head, sighing. "I think I'll be fine, Namjoon. Besides, you don't want to be walking down a dark corridor at night with someone that looks like Jimin's ghost, do you?"

You don't let either of them speak another word as you whirl around and walk away.

—previous | next

—masterpost

—masterlist

[bohrapbois]

They're filming BoRhap and one night cast and crew go out and it's late and Ben offers to walk Joe back to the hotel. Something sweet, they both like each other but don't know yet. Maybe first kiss???

This was a fun one to write! 

Words - 1,423

Fluff, pure and utter fluff

Drinking with the lot of them was fun. They tried to do it as much as they could, but still, getting a large group was rather rare. So as the twenty plus people staggered around the bar, they made sure to have a properly good time out.

And maybe Ben was a bit drunk as he threw his arms around the shoulders of the makeup crew he’d convinced to finally join them all, but they were singing badly along to a song he knew every other word too, so of course he had to join in. They all had the weekend off anyway so fuck it, he was going to enjoy himself, hangover tomorrow be damned.

It was a couple hours later, throat sore from singing and smoking, that Ben noted his favourite redhead saying his goodnights. Rushing over (and glad for the few waters that Lucy had poured down his throat), Ben grabbed the retreating arm and smiled wide at him. “I’ll walk you back to yours, mate, don’t want a hot piece of American ass getting lost on the London streets”

Joe laughed, moving his arm to wrap over the broad back and accepted the walk, both leaving through the door still holding onto each other. 

The walk wasn’t a bad one, probably not overly dangerous either, but still Ben went on about how he’d be able to protect Joe if needed, throwing some phantom punches to the city air in front of them and grinning when he gets another truthful laugh from the American. He gets cocky, starts doing some dodgy footwork he was sure he’d seen on a film somewhere, making noises with each punch and somehow completely forgets about the curb.

His foot slips, and with a startled yell, he starts to fall, alcohol inside him making his balance non-existence. Ben is ready for his face to hit the ground hard and probably smashing his nose, can already hear the earful he’ll get from the makeup lot and no-doubt his agent, but he can’t close his eyes, somehow watching in slow motion as the road comes closer and closer. Yet, it stops. Or, well, really, he stops falling.

In a moment of panic, Joe reached over and grabbed Ben's falling arm, stumbling as well as he pulls Ben closer. Both men span, trying to find their balance and footing, and for a few fleeting seconds, they can’t find either. Panicked hands grab tighter as they spin, Joe screwing his eyes closed and convinced they’ll end up in the middle of the street and get run over, but instead, he hits something, hearing a loud metal thud and pained grunt. 

Peeling his eyelids open, Joe peaks at what’s happened. They’d managed to somehow spin into one of the cars parked on the side of the road, Ben against the bonnet clinging and looking around with wide eyes as he has the same realisation of just about avoiding death as a car rushes by.

For a breath, it’s like they’re in their own bubble, Bens hands wrapped in the front of Joes shirt and Joes hands holding strong biceps tight, and he swears he sees green eyes glance down to his lips he subconsciously licks, but the moment is broken as the car below them screams it’s alarm and Joe scuttles backwards, pulling Ben after him. 

The blond laughs after glancing over and seeing the cars lights flashing in protest of them banging into it, and he grabs Joe’s hand and starts running down the street and away from the attention-seeking car. 

Being pulled along, Joe tries to keep his footing yet again, but can’t help laughing along. They continue around a corner before they start to slow down again, interlocked fingers swinging between them as they continue to giggle and try and explain to the other person who was there what just happened.

“I saved you from falling in the street!” Joe cheered, smiling wide over at Ben and getting a dazzling smile back.

“But I saved you from that car,” he pointed out, using his free hand to gesture back towards the way they just came from, and Joe glanced over his shoulder as if they landscape had changed. Alright, maybe he was a bit tipsy aswell. 

“Which I am very grateful for, thank you very much,” the teasing was easy between them, always had been, and Joe loved it. Really, he loved everything between them and everything about the blond. As he feels the tight embrace of the handhold and glances over to see the laughing smile still evident on Bens lips, he feels his heartbeat do a sure loved up thump against his chest, and he accepts it. He loves Ben. Probably had done for awhile. And somehow that wasn’t scary.

They keep walking, now onto the singing stage of drunk even if both of them are sobering up. Joe uses their interlocked hands to make Ben do some pretty spins under his arm, the Brit blushing and giggling the entire time as Joe serenades him with some Sinatra, but as the final notes are floating through the air, they’re coming up outside Joe’s hotel. 

“Well, this is me,” grinning, Joe points over his shoulder with his thumb. “Thanks for bringing me back”

“I told you, couldn’t risk your sweet ass getting lost,” Ben squeezed their fingers together, a habit he seems to have fallen into easily. He glances up at the building, the glistening lights of the sign making him pout a bit. Maybe they could go for a short walk around in a circle? He didn’t want to have to let go yet, didn’t want to go back to his and curl up in bed alone. He opened his mouth to say something, still looking up at the hotel when he feels a hand touching the side of his face carefully.

Joe gives him a soft smile when they get eye contact again, “thank you Benny, really,” his voice is soft, dropping the teasing from before. They spent a few beats just looking at each other, and if both reading the others mind, they begin to lean in.

Either one or both of them chickened out last minute, instead resting their foreheads against each other, standing impossibly close now and noses brushing against one another. It takes Joe a few beats to realise he’s leaning against the fence, Bens free hand holding onto the tall iron rail and basically keeping Joe in place, but the gentleness of drummers fingers made Joe feel safe.

“Are we…?” Ben whispers, eyes closed tight and with a slight tremor in his voice. He feels way too sober for this right now. He’d been hiding his feelings for a while now, had had the weeklong mental breakdown of realising he had a massive crush and hardon for his costar and close friend, but now it felt all too real. He hoped to fucking christ he hadn’t mis-read the situation tonight. 

“If you…?” Joe licked his lips and gulped past his words. He could hear his own heartbeat rushing in his ears, but could feel Bens breath gentle on his face. 

“Okay… I’m gonna…” Ben gives him a warning, waits a moment and thanks the gods above that Joe doesn’t move away from him. 

Tilting their heads, their lips brush together fleetingly, unsure and nervous. They both take a moment, parted slightly, before moving in unison to kiss properly. For a first kiss, it’s a nice one. Soft and unsure but happy and bashful. It’s not one that the fiction writers would write about - no fireworks, butterflies or gasping confessions of love, but it was nice. Good for them, one they’d no-doubtfully look back on to with a fond smile in times to come.

Ben pulls back properly, blinking tightly closed eyes open. His lips stretch into a smile that mirrors Joes, and they both laugh out loud.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for awhile now,” Ben admitted, a blush covering his cheekbones as his eyes sparkled. He felt so light that he could probably float away right now if it was possible. 

Joe just grinned back at him, using his hand on his cheek to pull him in for another kiss, this time a bit more steady and sure of itself. He can’t help but note how natural it felt when the blond moved his hand to hold onto Joes waist, squeezing their fingers again.

Tonight was probably going to be a highlight for both men.

taglist - @heybuddy-drabbles @captaincoffeegirl515

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 46

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @ocfairygodmother​

Everything hurts.

Back. Shoulder. Knee. Head. Especially the head.  A ferocious, pounding that has settled above and behind his eyes and in his temples.  Even the sliver of sunlight that manages its way past his heavy lids tortures him; an incessant burn that seems to travel right through every optic nerve and straight into his brain. And he winces and groans in agony and yanks the comforter up over his head, attempting to will away the throbbing and the slight nausea and lightheadedness.

He can’t remember the last time he had a hangover; body and mind so accustomed to a lifestyle of excessive drinking that they’d stopped being affected. The worst that would happen would be passing out and staying that way for ten to twelve hours. Sometimes even longer depending on many Oxy he’d taken.  There were days -more often than not- where’d he wake up disappointed; upset that no matter how much he’d had to drink and how many pills he popped, he was still alive; stuck in a shitty, miserable existence filled with enormous guilt and regret and unlimited self loathing.

But this...this suffering takes him back to his high school days; drinking too much at house parties or at get togethers on the beach and then passing out whenever he was standing or sitting at the time. The mornings after were always brutal; the headaches and dizziness, the way you tongue felt thick and dry and it seemed as if your mouth was stuffed with cotton. And the nausea. That queasy, unsettled feeling in the pit of your stomach and the burn of bile in your throat.

He regrets it. Every shot, every pitcher of beer he helped drain, every sip of scotch. And he wishes he’d never even agreed to ever go to that bar; option for a quiet night at home instead of all the noise and all those people. All that booze. It’s a blur; the crowd, too many conversations happening at once, the deafening music, the lights way too bright. And Millie’s teacher. Propositioning him at the bar. Making comments about his scars and asking about his job and assuming his marriage was in trouble and he was willing to ‘hook up’.  THAT’S going to make trips to the school awkward.  Parent/teacher interview night should be a lot more interesting and entertaining now, having to sit across from someone who is supposed to be educating your kid but weeks or months ago wanted your dick and you had to shoot them down.

It’s like a cocoon under the heavy, down filled blanket; a warm, confined, safe place. Quiet and relaxing. Secure. As if nothing exists outside of it. Just him and that soft body pressed tightly against his. The smell of her hair as he nestles his face against the back of her neck; the heat that radiates off her enough to soothe some of his aches and pains.  He needs this time. The minutes. The hours. The moments were it’s just them. Where the world around them is silent and still and life seems as if it’s at a standstill. In less than two weeks, these moments will cease to exist. At least temporarily. He’ll be in Mumbai; in the stifling heat and the oppressive humidity, making his way through the list of names Anil had given him. Checking them off one by one if he has to. Leaving nothing but a trail of blood and broken bodies in his wake.

He pushes those thoughts away. It’s the last thing he wants to be thinking about. Mumbai. Mahajan and his people. How long he’ll actually be gone for. If he’ll even make it back.  All he wants to do is concentrate on the next ten days. On their get away to The Kimberley; four days and three nights alone with his wife. No kids to worry about -although they will from afar- and no interruptions and time to actually talk and pay attention to what is being said. And Millie’s birthday party. Newly six with all her classmates and her new puppy; completely oblivious to the treats being made and the stress her parents are under. He’s no longer anxious about it; the nightmares of Austin taking her from them have stopped and the illogical fear of her waking up deathly ill is starting to subside. It’s still there; the inkling of worry that something could go wrong. But with each that passes where she’s healthy and happy and strong, that concern lessens.

Right now he focuses on what’s right in front of him. That soft, supple body pressed against him. Her back to his front and one of his legs draped over hers and the tip of his nose against the side of her neck.  HE blindly searches for one of her hands; lacing his fingers with hers and then placing a series of feathery kisses along her jaw. And she stirs against him when he reaches the corner of her mouth; eyes never opening as she turns her face into his. The resulting kiss is long and slow. Lazy. Bare legs sliding against each other; her fingers tightening around his as she lays their joined hands against her stomach.

Esme pulls back to look at him; eyes half open, brow slightly furrowed. “Why do you smell so good all of a sudden? And why do I taste mint?”

“I got up in the middle of the night and took a shower. Brushed my teeth.”

“I told you that you smelled awful.You know it’s bad when you can’t stand your own stench.”

“I actually did it because I couldn’t sleep.”

“That drunk and you couldn’t sleep? That’s a first. It used to knock you out for at least eight hours.”

Tyler shrugs. “Slept for a couple hours, woke up, couldn’t go back.”

“Did the baby wake up?”

“She slept through.”

Frowning, she brings his hand up to check his watch. “It’s quarter after six. She’s been sleeping since eleven. That’s weird for her. Did you check on her?”

“Twice.”

She arches an eyebrow.

“Okay, it was three times. I can’t help it. I worry. Doesn’t matter if it’s the first or the fifth. But she’s fine. Just not hungry. Doctor said to let her sleep if she doesn’t wake up to eat.”

“She’s tiny. VERY tiny. She needs to eat.”

“She’s tiny like her mom. She’s not going to be like the rest of them. She’s fine. Just let her sleep. The longer they all sleep the better.”

“I know why you’re saying that,” she says with a grin, and rolls over to face him. “You’re hopeful.”

“A little.”

“Just a little?” She pushes a hand through his hair, nails lightly digging into the back of his neck as she presses her lower body against his. “Feels like a lot.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t help it.”

“I’m surprised you’re even coherent this morning. You were pretty trashed. Do you remember anything?”

“I remember you changed the lock on the door,” he teases.

“I did not change the lock. You just forgot how keys work.”

“And I know I didn’t get any.”

“And…”

“And I know I had a mental breakdown and cried like a little bitch.”

She scowls. “First off, you’re not a little bitch. Far from it. You wouldn’t have all those scars and had all those broken bones or concussions or all that time in the hospital if you were a little bitch. A little bitch is not capable of doing the things you can do. Second, you were emotional. So what? I like that side of you. The who isn’t afraid to cry. It’s very sexy. A man that shows emotion.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she presses a kiss to his lips. “ Beside, if you can’t be emotional in front of me, who can you be emotional in front of?”

“No one. There’s only you.”

“Exactly. So stop being so worried about it making you soft. Or weak. You are neither of those things. You never have been.”

“I don’t know. I distinctly remember you having to help me to the bathroom when I used to come home on the weekends from the rehab place.”

“You’d just gotten over being shot in the throat. Among other things. No one is going to fault you for needing some help. You used to do things like that for me. All the times I’ve been pregnant. You'd help me into the bathtub, you’d tie my shoes for me, you’d put up with my three am cravings.”

“I’m supposed to take care of you,” he says. “I’m the guy.”

“This is a two way street, buddy. We do things for each other. So I don’t want to hear any of your toxic masculinity bullshit. That’s your father talking.”

“I don’t want to be like him.”

“You could NEVER be like him. You’d never let yourself get like that. I’D never let you get like that. You’re not your father, Tyler. You’re so far from it. You’re a good husband and you’re a great feather. Our kids love you. They don’t fear you.”

“Do you?”

“What? Fear you? No. And I never have. Why would you even ask that?”

“What about in Dhaka? When I grabbed your throat. Were you scared then?”

“Nope. You were angry. You reacted. Yes, you reacted BADLY.  But I could see it in your eyes. You weren’t going to hurt me. It was the last thing you wanted to do. I wasn’t scared of you then, and I’m not scared of you now.”

“You’d tell me though, right? If I ever did? Scare you?”

“I wouldn’t just tell you. I’d probably throat punch you.”

He chuckles at that.

“You may intimate and scare the people you’re supposed to intimate and scare, but I’ve never felt that way with you. I know you in ways those people don’t. And I know you’re not capable of hurting me or the kid. You’re a good man. You’re a GREAT man. And I wish you’d realize that. I wish you’d see yourself the way I see you.”

He tucks wayward strands of hair behind her ear. “How do you see me?”

“I see you as strong. Brave. Fiercely loyal and protective. I see you as the sexiest, most beautiful man in the world. I see you as an amazing father. As my best friend. My biggest supporter. My lover. My husband. I see you as all those things.”

“That’s a lot.”

“Well you’re a big man,” she reasons, and then smiles when he presses a kiss to the bridge of her nose. “You’re a big man with an even bigger heart. You just sometimes have to do bad things. To bad people.”

“It makes sense you know, that I’d end up with you. Someone that lived that life. That knows what it’s like. No one else would be able to deal with it. Accept it. Knowing that I’ve killed people. That I’m going to KEEP killing people.”

“It’s not all you do,” she reminds him. “The number of people you’ve helped is a lot higher than the people you’ve killed. But you’re right. Someone who’s never lived that life wouldn’t get it. They wouldn’t be able to deal with it.”

“Guess I’m pretty lucky you showed up at my place that day.”

“I don’t know, I think I’m pretty lucky too. After everything that I went through with Mark; all the things he did to me. All the damage he caused. You came along and you fixed all of that. You fixed ME. You came into my life when I’d given up on finding someone that would love me. I’d given up on MYSELF. He made me feel like nothing and you make me feel like something. Every time you look at me or touch me or kiss me or we make love. You make me feel beautiful and amazing and worthy. All the things I’d never felt before. All the things I never thought I could be.”

“You ARE all those things.”

“Because you’re the one that brought them out. Who makes me feel all of that. You talk about how lucky you are, but I’m just as lucky. If not more. You talk about how I saved you, but you never think about how you saved me.

He doesn’t think about it. He’s never even considered it outside of the decisions he’d made to get her safely across the Sultana Kamal Bridge. And even now he questions those decisions from time to time; if there’d been a way he could have avoided sending her with Ovi and Saju, or anything he could have done differently to prevent the near catastrophic ending. But he’s never thought beyond those things. Never actually considering just how he was helping her heal and get over the trauma that Mark had caused. Just doing it. Just doing whatever he had to and hoping for the best.

“I don’t think you understand how loved you actually are,” she says “By me. By your children. We’d be pretty lost and miserable without you.”

Swallowing around the lump of emotion that sits square in his throat, he combs his fingers through her hair; pushing it off her forehead and placing a soft kiss against the smooth skin. It’s those little kisses that she often enjoys the most. The ones to the brow or the cheeks or temple or against ears or along her jaw. Even those repetitive pecks to the lips; the ones where you pull back and smile at each other between each one. Those small intimate moments...brief snippets...where they connect outside of simply raising a family together.

“We’ll go to Mumbai,” she tells him, as she rests her forehead against the bridge of his nose; fingers racing the tattoo on his left shoulder. “IF you can get us a safe place to stay. IF you talk to Anil and he can help you find something. With people keeping an eye on things and armed guards or whatever else or whoever else needs to be there to keep Mahajan away.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Tyler promises. “I don’t think there’s much he CAN’T do.”

“You’ll have to tell him about the puppy. We can’t give Millie a puppy for her birthday and then expect her to be separated from him. That’s cruel.”

“I’ll take care of it. I’ll get everything worked out.”

“Because it would make me feel a lot better too if you weren’t so far away. Even being in the same county would be better. Not thousands of miles between us. I need that for my own piece of mind. If anything happens to you or any of the kids, it’s better if neither of us are too far away.”

“Nothing is going to happen to you or the kids,” he confidently assures her.

“I notice you didn’t put yourself in there.”

He gives a small, tight lipped smile.

“You’re going to be okay too,” she says, as her fingers move to the ink on his neck and the scar -one of many- left behind from Dhaka.  “Like you said, you’ll be able to focus better if we’re close and you’re constantly worrying about what’s going on here. And you need to be focused. You need to be able to put all your attention into things and I know you’ll be able to if the kids and I are there.”

He lays a hand on the side of her face and kisses her softly. “Thank you. I know it’s not easy for you to do this. Especially with the kids.”

“It’s just better this way. If we’re not far apart. What you said last night...if something did happen and you did die over there…” her voice cracks and tears well in her eyes. “...I mean, I know it’s not going to happen and I hate even thinking about it and I feel horrible for saying it and…”

“Calm down,” he gently implores.  “Just breathe. Everything’s fine.”

“...and I know you’re going to be okay. But hypothetically speaking, if something did happen and you didn’t make it, I don’t want you being stuck there. If I’m already there, I can find you and bring you home. I don’t want you being left there. I’d want to bring you back where I know you’d be finally able to rest.”

“It’s okay, baby,” he pushes a hand through her hand and tightly grips the back of her head as he kisses her forehead. “Nothing like that’s going to happen.”

“I know. But it makes me feel better to know if something does, you won’t be left there.”

“I meant what I said you know. About you finding someone else. I will haunt him.”

She laughs at that, and he gently brushes her tears away with his fingertips. “There wouldn’t be anyone else. I don’t want anyone else. You’re it for me. Wherever it’s next month of fifty years down the road.

“I’m hoping for the fifty years.”

“Me too. You’re still going to love me when I’m wrinkled and gray and can barely hear anymore?”

“I’m going to love you always. No matter what.”

Smiling, she presses a kiss to his lips and then tucks her head snuggly under his chin; hands sliding around to the nape of his neck and up onto the back of his head.

“Everything’s going to work out.” he promises, as he drops a kiss on the top of her head and wraps both arms around her.

And he holds her, as tightly as she’ll allow, until the sounds of life...THEIR life...begin stirring in the rooms above.

****

“So do we tell the kids to call you Uncle Koen or Grandpa Koen?” Esme asks as they sit in the surf. Koen in a lawn chair with his  feet in the water and her on the ground beside him’ Addie between her legs and resting back against her stomach.

He frowns down at her. “Grandpa? How old do you think I am?”

“According to Tyler, you were already wet behind the ears when the Pony Express was still delivering the man.”

“That little fucker,” Koen scoffs. “He’s starting to forget that he’s no spring chicken himself. Gonna hit the big four-one soon. You think he’d be starting to slow down, not getting ready to speed things back up again.”

“He’s not the type that can still for too long. He always has to be doing something.”

“Well you think having little ones to chase around and care for would give him ‘something’. He’s got five of them. How he’s not worn out from all of them rugrats, I certainly don’t understand.”

“It’s a different pace,” she reasons. “”He was used to something much more strenuous. Faster. Unpredictable.”

“Dangerous.” Koen offers.

She nods, then tightens the strap on Addie’s sunhat. “Unfortunately.”

“I don’t know if he told you or not, but when he came out to my place a couple weeks back, I gave him quite the talking to. About getting back into things. About becoming a merc again and starting his own business. Basically told him he’s a fucking dumb ass. Pardon my language around little ears.”

“Oh, she’s heard way worse already, trust me. Tyler has no filter. Millie already knows all the worst words and she doesn’t hesitate when it comes to using them. She’s got a month on her. And it’s all daddy’s fault.”

“He’s a good one, ain’t he,” Koen remarks, as he takes a pull from the bottle of beer in his hand. “A daddy.”

“He is. He’s an amazing dad.” There’s a smile on her face as she says it, and she scoops up a handful of water and sprinkles it along Addie’s legs. “He’s gentle and he’s loving but he doesn’t coddle them. Treats them like intelligent little beings instead of babying them all the time. He’s so good with them. And they adore him. They worship the ground he walks on, actually. Especially Millie. There’s no one on earth she loves like she loves her daddy. And God help anyone that tries to take him away from her. She will pitch a fit like no other. She will throw down with someone if they mess with daddy; no doubt in my mind.”

Koen grins. “So she’s basically her mom that way.”

“Yeah,” Esme laughs. “I’d throat punch someone if they hurt him or messed with him. I’ve seen him go through too much. No one is going to fuck with him on my watch. But he is. A good dad. He’s an incredible dad, honestly. I swear he has the patience of a saint. You know, it’s weird. When I first found out about Millie, I was so scared to tell him. We barely knew each other and he was in the hospital and in constant pain and trying to heal and going through all kinds of therapies and I thought the last he needed was something like that. And he was freaked out, but he wasn’t THAT freaked out, know what I mean?”

Koen nods.

“I think I was losing it more than he was,” she continues. “And I told him that I didn’t expect anything from him; if he didn’t want anything to do with me or the baby, I’d leave and never contact him again. That things were so screwed up and I didn’t want to force him to be a dad. That was the last thing I wanted. Not when he already had so much on his plate.”

“Not surprised he didn’t go for that,” Koen remarks. “Knowing he had a kid on the way and having already lost one. He wasn’t letting the chance to to be a daddy again get away from him. Gave him something to live for. Made all the pain and suffering during the aftermath of that Dhaka bullshit worth it. He had something to look forward to; something to keep going. And I’m not talking about just the baby and you know it.”

She smiles.

“He was pretty crazy about you even then, even if it did scare him. He told me as much. That you scared him.”

Esme glances over her shoulder. “He said that about me?”

Koen nods. “He was pretty into it. Into you. Freaked him out; feeling things like that about someone he just met. Last girl who made him feel things like that...well that didn’t end so well, did it.”

“No. It didn’t. I only met her that one time. When his dad brought her to the hospital. What a disaster THAT was.”

“Could have throttled ‘em both,” Koen scowls. “Neither had a right to be there. That old man is better off dead. What he did to that boy when he was growing up? What he did to his mother? He should be in hell where he belongs. And that Sarah?” he scoffs. “What a train wreck THAT was. Don’t think there wasn’t around she wasn’t fucking around on him. I used to tell him to just let her go. Kick her ass out. But he wouldn’t do it. And then she got knocked up and that was that. Used to question if the kid was even his. Looked nothing alike and the kid didn’t look anything like his mother, either. But…” he swigs his beer. “...he stuck around. Felt he was doing the right thing, I suppose.”

“Like he did with me?”

“He didn’t just stick around for the baby and you know it.  Naw, he was pretty deep into it already. He didn’t say it, but I could see it. The way his eyes would light up the second you walked in the room. Even his voice would change when he talked about you. I hadn’t heard that or seen that in him in a hell of a long time. That’s when I knew you were a keeper. If you could make a man like THAT...a man with all that darkness and all those issues...actually smile and feel like life’s worth living? Well I’m glad you stuck around.”

She grins and nudges his leg with her elbow. “Koen, you big softie.”

“I know he ain’t the easiest of bastards to live with. You deserve some kind of award for putting up with the likes of him. I’m not married to him and even I want to kill him sometimes.”

“It seems like forever ago,” she says.  “So much has happened since then. Since Dhaka. My family didn’t think we’d even make it past a year. It’s been seven since we met. We’ve been married for six and a half. We went from one kid to five. That’s surreal.”

“Fucking insane is what it is. You’re both right out of your damn minds. Repopulating the world all on your own.”

“He wants an even half dozen. I’m not too sure about that. I’m not quite sold on the idea yet.”

“He does realise he can have the fun of making babies not but not actually make any, yeah?”

Esme laughs at that. “He’s got in his head that he needs to leave a legacy behind. Some kind of proof that he did something good with his life. He doesn’t realize that he’s many good things. And he doesn’t need to prove that to anyone. Not even to himself.”

“Stubborn bastard that one,” Koen says, and then glances down the beach to where Ovi and Tyler are immersed in conversation while Declan stands at the edge of the water, tossing tennis balls into the ocean for Sadie and Mac to fetch.   “He’s pretty fond of that kid, ain’t he.”

Esme uses her hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she looks over at what’s caught his attention. “Ovi’s pretty fond of him, too. He always has been. Even in Dhaka. Especially near the end. He looks up to Tyler. Respects him. Wants to emulate him. We’ve both spent five and a half years trying to get him out of that, but…” she shrugs and turns her attention back to Addie. “...it didn’t work. He adores Tyler. He’s the dad Ovi should have had. The one I wish he COULD have had. He even calls him dad. Not to his face, but he refers to him as his dad. When he was still in school and would talk about his dad, people would be so confused when Tyler would show up to things. He was NOT what they were expecting. But Ovi’s ours. We look at him like he is. We love him like he is.”

Koen nods slowly, considering her words. “Think we can trust him?”

“Who? Ovi? Why wouldn’t you be able to?”

“He’s been in contact with his old man, hasn’t he?”

“Not by choice. He’s still terrified of him. That man is a monster. He’s ruined so many lives.  Even his own son’s. I hate thinking about what would have happened to Ovi if we’d left him in Mumbai.”

“Kid seems pretty torn up every time someone mentions doing away with the old man.”

“It’s not easy to hear. That people want to kill your father. That they ARE going to kill him. Even if the old man is Satan himself, he’s still his father.”

“What about his mother? Does he have one?”

“She died when he was three. I don’t know how. He doesn’t like to talk about it and I don’t pressure him. I don’t even know if Tyler knows. I have my suspicions about what happened to her, but that’s all they are. Suspicions.”

“You think the old man had something to do with it?”

“It’s possible. I mean, he’s a horrible person. Look what he did to Saju; who’d been nothing but loyal to him. It wouldn’t surprise me if his wife didn’t tow the line and he got rid of her.”

“Think he’d tell him? That we’re coming?”

“I doubt it. Ovi wants this nightmare over just as much as any of us do. Why?” she glances up at him. “You don’t trust him?”

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea that the kid comes along is all.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea that ANY of you are going,” she says. “But I hardly have a say in it. I can’t stop Tyler from doing this. No one can. He’s doing it to protect me. And our kids. You don’t fuck with his family. He’s fiercely protective; sometimes to a fault. But I trust when he says he’s going to end this. He won’t stop until every one of those men on the list are dead. And to be honest, I don’t want him to.”

“So you’re okay with this? This whole idea? Mumbai?”

“No. But if Tyler says this is what has to be done, it needs to be done. I trust him. He’s the one person I DO trust. Especially when it comes to my kids.”

“What about getting back into the job? Being a merc okay? You’re okay with that?”

“I told him if that’s what he needed to do...if he needs that escape so badly and it would keep him sane and happy...that he should go back. And having the business means he won’t have to be so hard core into it. He won’t have to be away from home so much. Because I need him here. So do the kids. He’ll be in the job, but not right in it. And I’m good with that.”

Koen frowns. “He should be home all the damn time. With you. With his kids. None of this job shit. He needs to let that go. That part of him. He needs to walk away from it and never look back.”

“But he can’t,”  Esme says. “It won’t let him rest. Not yet. And I need it to. I need it to let him go. And it’s not going to. I don’t know if it ever will.”

“And if it doesn’t? Let him go?”

“We make it work, I guess. We have to somehow make it work and cope with it. I know it doesn’t make much sense; that I’m doing all of this. But I love him. So much it physically hurts sometimes. And if it’s the only thing that’s going to keep him sane and functioning, I have to give him that.”

“You’re a lot more understanding than I would be. I’d be kicking his ass out. Making stupid decisions like that.”

“You know as well as I do that when Tyler’s mind is set on something, you can’t change it. Things will be better this time. Different. Now that he’s the boss, he can stay behind the scenes and let everyone else get their hands dirty. And this will be good for him; it’ll give him something to do. A sense of purpose. He doesn’t feel like he has that right now.”

“That’s bullshit,” Koen snarls. “He’s got all kinds of purpose. He’s got you, the kids…”

“It doesn’t make sense, I know. But that’s how his brain is working. It makes sense to Tyler and that’s what matters. And I’m worried about him and I need you to keep an eye on him. Because he’s been struggling, Koen. Badly. With the PTSD and the depression and the anxiety.”

“And the drinking.”

She sighs. “And the drinking. Six months. He was sober for half a year. He was doing so good. And then all this started and it went to hell and now look where we are. Look how drunk he was last night. He was a mess. And I’m pissed off that none of you tried to stop him. You just let him do it. Get that out of control. When you saw him getting that bad, why didn’t any of you step in?”

“I have no excuse for that,” Koen admits. ”No reasons. I should have. Stepped in and got him to stop when things got out of hand. But he’s not an easy man to control and…”

“If I can stop him, any of you can. I’m five foot nothing. He’s six three. He has a hundred pounds on me, if not more. If I can talk sense into him, there’s no reason why you couldn’t have done it. And then you bring him home like THAT? So I can deal with him. So I can be the one that takes care of a grown ass man AND five kids.”

“I’m sorry, kiddo. I’m…”

“And now he’s going to Mumbai. On a job. And I’m supposed to trust him with you guys. I’m supposed to trust that you’ll have his back and that you won’t let him do anything stupid. And I’m not just talking about drinking. I’m talking about the job. If guys don’t have his back, he might as well be going there alone.”

“We have his back,” Koen assures her. “One hundred percent,”

“I hope so. I really do. Because I need him to come home, Koen. Alive. I need my husband and my kids need their father.  And I need you guys to watch over him. To make sure he comes back. I need to know that he’s going alone out there. That he has people he can trust.”

“He’s got us,” Koen says. “We’ve got him. We’ll make sure he comes home. He’s smart. He’s tough. Resilient. Nothing’s going to stop him from getting the job done and hauling ass back here. He knows he’s got a good thing. May not always say it or show it, but he knows. And if he ever forgets, you just call me and I’ll come here and beat his ass into the middle of next week.”

“Whose ass are you beating now?”  Tyler asks, as he and Ovi join them, the latter wading out into the water with Declan on his hip.

“Yours,” Koen directs a kick at his friend’s back side before he can take a seat in the sand. “If you’ve been hurting for a good ass kicking for a long time, I reckon. Surprise this little thing hasn’t brought you to your knees yet.”

“Oh she has. She’s brought me to them many times. Just not the way you’re thinking.”

Esme snorts and digs an elbow into her husband’s side.

“He knows we have sex,” Tyler reasons. “It’s not a secret. We have five kids.”

“I was telling her that if you didn’t treat her right, I’m going to come here and beat your ass,” Koen says. “And then I’m gonna steal her away and let her see what a real man can do for her.”

Tyler smirks. “Where you gonna find a real man?”

“You cheeky fucker. How do you put up with him, kid? How do you tolerate his shit?”

“He puts up with me,” Esme says. “I’m not the easiest person to live with. But he’s still here. For some reason.”

“Trust me when I say it’s NOT her cooking,” Tyler says, and then leans into her with his shoulder; giving her a playful wink and a kiss on the cheek before taking Addie from her. Laying the baby along both forearms, her head in his palms as he carefully lowers her into the water. “And you have to kill me old man. To get her away from me. That really the hill you want to die on?”

“I think the two are made for each other,” Koen grumbles.

“Yeah…” Tyler grins at her. “I think we are too.”

****

Dinner with Anil and Allison had gone well. Both extremely pleased  -and grateful- with the deal that had been quickly reached. The former had offered up his own home in Mumbai for Esme and the kids (and the new puppy, once he’d heard what the name was); an extremely well guarded and safe estate within its own locked and secure five acre compound. He immediately understood Tyler’s need to have his family close and Esme’s fear of being too far away if the worst case scenario came to fruition. The thought of a body not being returned home would be far more distressing than the actual death itself. Every job holds the possibility of not coming back; that is something you come to expect and learn to live with. But the thought of not having your loved one come back to you at all, is a bitter and horrible pill to try and swallow. It’s happened with many mercs; gruesome deaths and the inability of anyone to go and recover the body. Another reason why many die single; no spouse, girlfriend, or significant other willing to deal with such a high price.

Everything will be handled by Anil and his people; twenty four house staff and heavily armed guards and an elaborate security system. Bedrooms for all the children and everything needed properly to care for a baby; toys and bikes and whatever the kids need to keep them occupied and happy, even an offer of tutors to come in and work on school tasks. No expense being spared. For Tyler it makes the stress and the worry easier to bear; knowing that not only will he not be separated from his family by thousands of miles, every effort will be put into keeping them safe. They’ll arrive two days after him, and he’ll be staying at a different location; bouncing from hotel to hotel with Nathan, Ovi, Koen, and Anil. It’s far safer to keep moving then to settle down in one spot; staying at the house would only bring unnecessary attention to Esme and the kids. When deemed safe by the security, visits -including overnight- would be allowed. It isn’t the best arrangement, but a necessary one.

Tyler stands in the kitchen doorway and watches as she moves around the room; finishing the kids’ school lunches, mixing bottles of formula (to give Koen and Ovi at least a couple days head start) and dropping three frozen waffles into the toaster. She’s still clad in the dress she’d work to dinner. Classic black and off the shoulder; fitting like a second skin and reaching just below the knee. He’d been rendered speechless when she’d first walked out of the bedroom hours earlier; not remembering the last time he’d seen her like THAT. She’s always beautiful in his eyes. Whether it’s fresh out of the shower or when she first wakes up in the morning and her eyes are still puffy and blurry from sleep and her hair is a mess. Or even she’s been up for two days caring for a colicky baby. But that...with her hair up and make up and that dress showing off every curve that carrying five children has graced her with...is a beauty that surpasses all.

“Hey,” she cheerfully greets, as she glances up while buttering the waffles. “Kids asleep?”

“All five.”

“I don’t know how Ovi does it. He’s got that magic touch or something. Every time he watches them, they’re all asleep when we get home. Not one of them is awake. How? How does he do it? We put them to bed and we spend two hours fetching drinks of water and herding them back to their rooms.”

“Maybe he drugs them. Maybe THAT’S his secret. It’s not magic. He puts tranqs in that water.”

“Maybe he can give me some, then. I could use a couple right now. Or half a dozen. At least dinner went well. Anil’s pretty reasonable, don’t you think?” She takes a bite out of one of the waffles. “There wasn’t one thing he didn’t agree with. About me and the kids coming to Mumbai.”

“He’s a businessman. He knows what people want to hear and he knows how to give them what they want. And he’s got all the money in the world apparently.”

“How does a guy like him get so rich? What did he do before what he does now?”

“He was special forces. Same as Saju.”

“And in only seven years he’s become THAT rich?”

“Have you seen what he charges people for his services. He charges twice as much...if not more...than he pays his employees. You think it hurt him to give us what he did? That’s probably pocket change to him. Even AFTER he pays us and our mercs, it doesn’t start to scratch the surface.”

“Just seems weird. For it to happen THAT quick.”

“Look how quick we got money. Not just from him. Look what happened in Ireland. Five million for ten minutes of work.”

“You and I remember Ireland very differently.”

“It wasn’t THAT bad.” He grabs two bottles of water from the fridge, a jar of vegemite from the cupboard, and a knife from the drainboard by the sink, then joins her at the island.

“Says the guy who got hit in the head with a metal shovel. You and your fetish for garden tools.”   She frowns when he opens the jar of vegemite and reaches for one of the waffles. “Please tell me you’re not going to do what I think you’re going to do.”

“What do you think I’m going to do?”

“Please don’t eat that stuff in front of me. You know I hate that stuff.”

“It’s good shit.”

“It is not good shit. Oh my God…” she dramatically gags when he spreads vegemite on the waffle. “...Tyler James...ughhh...you’re gross.”

“You used to eat peanut butter sandwiches with onions AND hot peppers on it and you call me gross?”

“I was pregnant with Declan,” Esme argues. “I had weird ass cravings with him. None of my cravings with the other ones were that bad.”

“I don’t know. I remember you putting strawberry jelly on pizza when you were having the twins. Remember the ice cream when you were having Millie? Rocky road and I’d have to melt peanut butter and put that AND chocolate sauce on it.”

“Oh my god that was so good. You even liked it.”

“I swear I put on twenty five sympathy pounds.”

“You needed to. You lost a lot of weight after Dhaka. And now look at you. All thick and muscley and a whole week's worth of snacks. With your massive forearms and big thighs and your cute butt that sticks out.”

Tyler grins. “Are you flirting with me?”

“Maybe. Is it working? Do you like it? If we were in a bar and I started chatting you up, would you let me pick you up?”

“I would definitely nail you in the bathroom.”

“That’s it? What if I complimented your big forearms and hands and called your eyes pretty?”

“I would have let you take me home. For sure.”

“Would you have called me the next day?”

“Yup. I know how good your head game is.”

“So THAT’S why you stick around. You don’t want the long hunt funding someone who does it just right.”

“That’s one of the reasons.”

“What are the other ones?”

“I love you. You’ve given me five beautiful children. And a reason to live.”

She smiles at that, and he leans in to kiss her. “Ewww,” she grimaces. “Vegemite.”

“Try a little bit,” he implores.

“I’ve tried it. I hate it.”

“Just a bit. You might not like it now.”

“I’m never going to like it. Don’t!” she pushes his hand away when he holds the waffle near her mouth. “Get it away from me.”

“It’s not THAT bad.”

“I will puke on you,” she warns. “And not even apologize.”

“Here.” He grabs a hold of the back of her head with one hand and presses the food to her lips with the other.

“You fucker!” She playfully shoves him away, then vigorously wipes at her mouth with the back of her hand. “Oh god. I can taste it. I’m never going to get rid of that taste.”

“You’ve had worse things in your mouth.”

“You’re gross,” she grumbles, and grabs one of the bottles of water. “You’re gross and a pig and I don’t know how I put up with you. That is so nasty. YOU’RE nasty. That’s not friends.”

“Is that what we are?” he grins. “Friends?”

“With benefits. Which you’re getting any of for a while doing shit like that.”

“Come here…” He reaches out and tangles his fingers in her hair and pulls her into him.

“I’m not kissing you when you’re eating that stuff. No way.”

“Not even if I tell you that you looked amazing tonight? Not even if I tell you that you were the most beautiful woman there and that I was so fucking proud that you were there with me? Will you kiss me then?”

“I suppose,” she dramatically sighs, and then lays her hand on the side of his face as he covers her lips with his in a long, slow, deep kiss. The tip of his tongue skimming along the rough of her mouth before he draws away. “By the way,” she says. “You clean up pretty good. You haven’t worn one of these…” she tugs on the tie -now worn loosely- around his neck. “...since we got married.”

“You like it?”

“I do. It’s handsome and it’s distinguished and very sexy. But I think I prefer the way you usually dress. More casual. Jeans and t-shirts with holes in them and baseball hats. And board shorts. We can’t forget your board shorts. All thirty pairs of them.”

“It’s really only twenty eight, but…”

She grins as he presses a kiss to the tip of her nose. “That’s the Tyler I know. And I can’t lie. The thought of seeing you in a tactical vest again...all sweaty and dirty...it kind of turns me on. Just a bit.”

“Just a bit, huh?”

“Just a tiny bit. Like a lot. Like a lot, lot.”

“I’ll have to make conjugal visits. Leave the vest on when I come over.”

“I might not be able to control myself. I might throw you down and have my way with you.”

“I wouldn’t put up a fight. Just saying.”

“I know why you can’t stay with us. I totally get it. But it still kind of sucks.”

“Yeah,” Tyler nods. “It does. But at least we’re in the same country. Hopefully in the same city. Or close by.”

“I’ll feel better knowing you’re THAT close. The kids won’t understand why they can’t see you.”

“We’ll figure something out to tell them. At least they’ll know that I’m not far away and I can get to them pretty quick if I have to.”

She nods.

“It’s all going to work out,” he promises, and lays a hand on the side of her head and presses a kiss to her temple. “I have something for you.”

“You do, do you?”

“One of your surprises from the other day. From the kids. They asked me to give it to you so you could have it while we’re away.”

“From the kids?”

He nods.

“Something tells me it’s actually from you.”

“The other one is from me. You’ll get that one WHILE we’re away. It’s from the kids.” He opens the cupboard below the island and pulls out a small gift bag; adorned with unicorns and rainbows and glitter. “Millie picked that out by the way. In case you can’t tell.”

“That girl loves her glitter. And this from them? The kids?”

“Yup.”

“You’re lying, but okay…” She takes the bag from him and sets it on the counter. “What did you do?” she asks, as she pulls out a long, rectangular jewellery box.

“Just a little something. From the kids.”

She stares at him pointedly.

“Okay, it’s from me too. I’m the one who had to pay for it. But it was their idea.”

“You know I’m not good at surprises.”

“I know. You’re the worst person to buy stuff for. But it’s from your kids. They thought it up and they wanted you to have something pretty.”

She smiles. “They said that?”

He nods. “They said that mommy deserves pretty things and I agreed. So open it.”

“You’re going to make me cry,” she says, but snaps open the lid on the box. A piece of purple beach glass encased in an intricate cage of rose gold, and dangling from a chain of the same.

“Millie found it and wanted me to do something with it for you,” Tyler explains. “So I did.”

“It’s beautiful,” she turns her tear filled eyes towards him. “I love it. Thank you.”

He kisses her softly, face cradled in his palms. Her soft skin a striking contrast to the rough calluses on his palms and the tips of his fingers.

“You’re too good to me,” she declares.

“Sometimes I think I’m not good enough,” he admits.

“You’ve always been way more than someone like me deserves.”

“You’re full of shit,” he says, then kisses her forehead and takes the necklace from the box; stepping behind her to clasp it around her neck. “You like it?”

“I love it. It’s perfect. Our kids are perfect. YOU’RE perfect.”

“That last part? I dunno about that.”

“You’re perfect for me,” she says. “And that’s all that matters.”

[polygamyff]

58. Part 9

I have used and abused the leisure of having this Bentley, I do love the car and if I could I would keep it but it’s hired on Maurice’ name “I see you not wearing no earrings, hair tied and air force ones. Mother, seriously?” I have to laugh; my mother is on something “are you strapped too?” I have to ask, she seems strapped to be honest “if I could, I would, Robbie I would go down for murder for you. I love you with all my heart and to know my only love is being treated this way, this kills me. I remained with Thomas with his negative vibe just for you, just so you can feel love and you did. He made me strong, I wanted better for you and you have, and I won’t let some rich evil bitch ruin that” that is deep “belt on then mother, we got some Davenports to ruin” my mom laughed “least Reign is asleep, she will sense the hate” looking behind me, Reign is asleep in the car seat “well she will learn, I will make sure she goes into this with eyes wide open. I will be like you; I know I will be. Maurice rang again, well Marquis did but he’s using his phone. He wants me to bring his clothes but I didn’t” turning in my seat “oh dear, well you can deal with that” putting the car engine on “you know what mom, I could buy myself this car with the money I am on, if Maurice ever fucked me over I would never need him or his money. I was just thinking that” I could literally do without him “and it’s good to know you feel that you would be able to make it without him, I would tell every woman to never place their eggs in one basket. Love is good, and bad I mean look at me baby. I loved Thomas, he is taking me on in everything” holding my mother’s hand “and I am getting this house for you, you will get this house and you will sell it. You raised a strong girl, just the love I have for Maurice gets me” letting her hand go as I put the car in reverse “that is the girl I raised, but Maurice is too in love with you my girl. I don’t see him letting anything go that easily, I see good in him. He is just extremely stupid at times; he is not Marquis. I think he is not programmed to be malicious as his dad, this is why he slips up so many times” my mother has a point.

Opening my car door, Jay waved at me “nice seeing you here this evening” he made his way over to the car “park the car when she is done” Jay said to the valet that is waiting “imagine that” I laughed “is little stinky in here, I heard I am the assigned babysitter, I think I spoke to your mom. You was busy” nodding my head “yeah, I was getting changed” Jay opened his arms “in life we all love hugs and I think you need a hug” I cooed out as Jay hugged me, because he is a big guy I am actually lost in this hug “that is so sweet, is this a pity hug?” laughing while moving back “it’s more of a I was there and it was wack to see, but I saw Maurice earlier. Just as I was coming down, but I didn’t say much. Ally is going to take care of Reign instead; she is coming down” pulling the seat forward “you awake now” climbing into the back to unbuckle my daughter out, Reign looks in a daze but she is waving at me “you going to be a good girl for me, look who is here” picking her out of the car seat “look who it is” turning her to Jay “little stinky, I missed you!” Reign hid her face in the crook of my neck smiling “she is being shy, aren’t you. Stop being shy” holding the key out to the valet “mom, did you get her baby bag” turning to her “yes, I am here” I hope Reign is not going to be clingy, I just need her to be with Ally while this goes on “move out” Jay said at a group people that was stood around “and no, I don’t care who are you” Jay laughed as he pushed them, walking up the steps “who are they?” I asked him “some guys, related to Maurice. I was smoking out here waiting around and they were talking big, now they stood there taking pictures, crazies” I didn’t even notice that but Jay notices more then me I guess. The doorman opened the door for us as we entered the hotel “hey girl” look who it is in the corner, Maurice is shying away from me “hey, I don’t want her to see him, Reign. You going to go to Ally? She can give you cuddles too” she is moody, she knows I am going to leave her here with Ally “come here, come on pretty” Reign stiffened her body holding me “awww what, ok then. You know what, where are you going to be? I will go with you” I said to Ally “ok, I will stay until she settles”  she is not stupid this girl “just in the room” following behind Ally “come on mom” look at his stank ass with his suit on from yesterday too.

Ally is the sweetest “you put pillows all over this room, all for Reign. We won’t be long hopefully, look at this Reign. Ally got some toys here for you to play with, where did you get this from?” I asked as I walked over to the toys “I bought them, I thought I need to entertain her” she is so sweet “that is so sweet, we appreciate it so much. She won’t do no dirty diaper, she had that. I will change her again before I go actually” sitting on the floor with Reign “it’s ok, I think I will be ok. Just want to know if she will be ok with me” Reign is looking at the toys so that means she is interested, she is being hard headed right now “did you drink a lot last night?” I asked, “well I remember you spoke to me, so I guess not, I did hear a few things go off” Ally sat down on the edge of the bed “oh you did, go on then. Spill” I chuckled knowing full well who has been spreading any type of rumour “well, I saw the commotion with Maurice and his mother. I didn’t go over there but I asked when he walked by, he just told me fuck off. So I left it, but then I overheard over breakfast that you felt unsure about the family and was asking questions and that they felt you are not right, I didn’t say anything but just kept going because I am like nah, Robyn I know has been through hell and back with Maurice and she is loyal as fuck, she will take on you minions don’t play. So, I was like ok moving on, then I found out Maurice is in a room but then hotel staff talk, they saw you leave and didn’t come back. But now I figured they have been talking a little too much on social media and their little group chat, we need to nip that quickly. Then by time I knew, Maurice was walking off the elevator a mess, then Jay told me he knew it all, he’s good for nothing told me nothing. But I am just hearing things, Maurice is by the way walking around like he has been wounded, just to add. Like Negro please, you got a damn hangover and last night clothes on. Then the family gathered for a meeting in the meeting room, all very moody I must add” I swear that family is dramatic “Ally, it was a terrible night, Jay saved my ass from having a mental breakdown, they are liars. I innocently asked Marquis sister in law, what is it like to be a Davenport!? I was innocent in this” I shouted, hearing Reign let out a cry “awww I am sorry, mommy shouting. I know” hugging Reign close.

“Robyn, this is not shocking. Do you know how many stories they leaked on Maurice? We were fed up because we were fairly new and us as a team never met Maurice yet because his dad was preparing for him to come to New York, every time stories came out they had the fact he was taking over. They leaked his rehab place too; they leaked the fact he was getting drugs to the rehab place still. They leaked pictures and videos of him, they discredited him to the point Marquis was like how can I leave anything to you you look bad, this is their own nephew. Marquis yet had to pay them shut up money, his own family. I have not seen a family like it but it’s money, they needed to be shut down. I think the worse one that got faxed through and we nearly fell out of our chairs, we had to really dig deep to get it off any outlets but it’s gone now, it was pictures of Maurice and I don’t understand why anyone would want to do that to their own, but it was so disturbing to see. Pictures of him injecting, then snorting and then being out of it, it was a mess so yes they would do this. Money is evil and he is taking that from them” that is so disturbing to hear “you have really disturbed me now” I shuddered “sorry, but we have been his team for so long to get to this point and for drama to happen. It’s sad to see” I guess I am nothing to them “I am a threat to them” I said, Ally nodded her head “you are right, if Maurice so happens to die. Then that will be ripped from them and given to you. Just like that” that must really scare them.

Robyn told me to stay away from her, that she doesn’t want Reign to see me and I do hope that is because she wants to leave her with Ally, I mean I just don’t know what happened. I am here trying to celebrate my moment but clearly that has been ruined, all I know is that I walked into the meeting room and my dad slapped my mom, now I am confused and still hungover a little. I swear I didn’t drink as much; I know I didn’t unless I continued after I stopped drinking but still, I can’t have. I don’t need to be doing that, that was never my intention but right now, my mind is a mess. I feel like I caused a hell of a lot of mess, this meeting hasn’t really started, and nobody will speak. “I will contact you later, I need to get over this hangover” Lorraine said “yeah, thanks for coming. What were you doing anyways?” I don’t even know what she was doing “sorting the mess out, trying to filter the good press. Don’t worry about it boss, anyways see you back in New York” Lorraine walked off, but what did I do, am I in real trouble. My phones are gone, I have no phones “Lorraine!” I shouted, why did I shout, my head right now “yes?” she turned to me “email me, I have no phone” Lorraine laughed “I will” I wish people would speak “is anybody going to tell me what happened?” I don’t get it “your woman talking shit, but Marquis doesn’t want to believe it, slapped me! For what!? She going to keep her kids away from you now, awww is that it now? You made her cry too not me, you come near me again I will fucking scream!” my mom pointed at my dad “I made her cry? For what exactly?” I have really fucked up “because you are just like your father Maurice, you are him and good at making women cry” I don’t need this right now, how the fuck did I make Robyn cry and why did I do that.

I am waiting for Robyn at the front desk, I am bored of waiting but here I am and they are taking their time “you make us nervous here” one of the workers said, I had to double take seeing Lionel “aye!” I spat, Robyn said she wanted him there but why “cousin, hey” he made his way over to me with his fist up at me, fist bumping him “what happened at the party yesterday?” I asked him, let me see if I can get any detailing from this one “you were wild as fuck, like you legit live up to your name. Party animal but like shit was good vibes, nothing wrong at all why?” I fake laughed nodding “right, so I heard that you want to work at the Texas hotel, is that right?” he nodded his head “cool, well tell them you will be busy. I need you to come with me” he says everything was good but like shit wasn’t any good, it wasn’t “my nigga, I will be one second” he jogged off “Maurice” looking behind me, Robyn is here finally. Moving my head to the side seeing Robyn “where is it then?” Jay said, I did bad and I don’t know what I did “erm, one second” feeling a hand hit my arm “let’s go then, this your wife. She good people, you know” clearing my throat “just wait here, you come with me” walking off, I just need to talk to Robyn on her own and see what the fuck went down, I don’t know what happened or what I did to her. Walking down the lobby “these hotels are beautiful, like they are amazing. Man!” he is too damn happy “T!” I spat, my dad’ bodyguard is out here “keep him in here” moving out of the way “woah, wait. Why?” T grabbed him like he weighed nothing and dragged him into the meeting room “I will be back” closing the door.

This is so stank that I am walking with this old shit on still, walking over to the desk and grabbing the keys to the rooms “I will be back, I have them” I said to the colleague “come” walking off “Maurice!” one my cousins shouted “not now, I am busy. If it’s work related then speak to my assistant” walking around the front desk and to the side room, unlocking the door and pushing it open “come on in” holding the door open, Jay walked in first. Robyn placed something against my chest, holding it there “your phone” grabbing my phone as she walked, looking down at my smashed phone, my face softened seeing my phone broke as fuck, pressing the side button and nothing working. Letting the door go as I held the side button to switch the phone on, I guess this shit is really broke “did you bring me any clothes?” letting the door go to close “let me just start off, I just want to say this because other then that this is Robyn and yours issue but I am very upset and hurt by how your family has treated my daughter, just because she doesn’t have a father in her life doesn’t mean I won’t fight, because I will fight to the ends of the earth for her. My daughter has been treated like some bitch off the streets when you and I both know she is higher then that, I am upset Maurice. But I said my piece now” Terry turned a little, she really hates me. Placing my broken phone to the side “I didn’t bring no clothes with me, and I broke your phone” Robyn added, frowning at her “why? I don’t have nothing on there, I have you, your mom. Just family and close friends, I don’t flirt with anyone. Why did you break my phone?” I am confused because there is nothing to see on there anymore, why would she do that “let’s start from the beginning yeah? Why were you drinking so much, I let you drink, and you kept going?” shaking my head “I didn’t drink as much, that is bullshit because I drank as I would at a party” Robyn laughed “there you go as YOU! Would at a party which to me is probably a lot, and to you it’s a little, so you saying with that amount you wouldn’t be blindly fucking drunk and so quickly? Those people hate you” I sighed out “one night of forgetting that shit but of course, I don’t know I just so happened to drink more one night. But I know I didn’t, to you maybe” this is fucking bullshit because I know me.

“Right, so you remember when you told me to fuck off too? Your mother talking shit to you?” Robyn said but this is all new to me “no, the last thing I remember was that something, Reign was leaving. I don’t know” Robyn shook her head in disbelief “that was it? And then it all went down the drain after that, leaving me with your family!” she shouted at me and then breathed out “I am calm, it’s ok mom” Terry held her hand “I came back in there to look for you, to find you, to look after you. And then I see Nalah because I couldn’t find you, I didn’t know anybody to be honest, just a bunch of people. Jay went with my mom, I wanted her to be safe with Reign. He said Lenny is in there waiting, I said to Lenny leave it have a good time, I was in a safe space. I have my drunk man there; I got some people that may like me around. I see your mother first off before I even got back in that place your mother got to me, she said something along the lines that Maurice is not watching, clearly knowing the stupid idiot I am with is drunk as fuck, she said you look to other women for a mother figure and that I will see the truth he will destroy my soul with the family and I will end up needing to be a bitch or they will step on me. And that they will kill me and that they hate me, so I said back to her she is an evil bitch and that Malik will be ok I will show him love, and I will fuck her over if she plays on my family like that. So I am now angry anyways, I go into the hall and I see Nalah I thought I need stay with her, I can’t find you like you was any use to me. Nalah and I ended up sitting down, we can’t drink or anything like that. We spoke for a while then your mother came again, at this point I was fed the fuck up. This is when she said you are always happy when you are intoxicated, I! Me! I stuck up for you and I said who would find that a good thing. Then she added that I broke your happy ass family, so I snapped and said just like when you fucked Marquis’ brother. She walked off; I am glad she did. Nalah was trying to calm us all down at this point. Then she sees your drunk ass with your mom, I go up to you both. And this is when she has switched it up on me, told you I said about you love being intoxicated but then you looked at me like I was the one to say it, questioning me. I cried, of course I cried because then you said fuck it and walked off” I breathed out, I don’t want to cry right now.

“So anyways, you walked off, big help. I was ready to attack your mom, I apologised to Nalah it’s disrespectful. So, then I went to the toilet, dried my hands off. I meet your, I forgot her name or whatever. She is Marquis’ sister in law, I only asked is the family big and that is it. She said yes and she heard I am headstrong but then these rumours of me talking shit about your family came out, it was all lies! I never did do any of that or say anything bad. So I left the bathroom fucking fed up because she gave me bad vibes, I just wanted to go home but I didn’t want to leave you. I see Lionel” Robyn sighed out “god, yes I see fucking Lionel, he was looking at me from the start wasn’t he mom?” looking at Terry “I found it strange that he was looking at you that way, you don’t belong to him at all, top to bottom. Smirks here and there” Terry added, my blood is boiling already “so I see him again, he once again looked at me like he wanted a piece of me. He said he liked the length of my legs and that he gets why you want me so much and then said he will be here once Maurice dies” that is it, I have heard enough. Turning around and opening the door, I am going to kill him and every person in that meeting room “Aye Maurice, can we talk” pushing by Shawn, I don’t want to know fuck everybody.

Opening the meeting room door “you dickhead huh, you fucking think I wouldn’t hear what you been saying about me” Lionel’ eyes widened “no, woah. I didn’t say anything, she is crazy!” grabbing his tee and balled up my fist as I punched him in the face. Lionel fell back on the chair with the punch but I dragged him up a little before punching him again. Lionel groaned out “oh god” he mumbled, I moved back “you, you fucked up. You stupid bitch” T grabbed me, I was so close to slapping my mom’ fucking face “calm down now, you ain’t her. You a good man like that” T towered over me “now straighten yourself up” T fixed my suit jacket, but I am heaving, I am angry “breathe in and out, come on now. I think you knocked his ass to next year” hearing a commotion and a scream, looking around T “aye, Miss Terry. Come on now” running towards my mom and Terry fighting in the middle of the room “stay out of it” I said to Robyn, Terry is throwing them punches. Jay wrapped his arms Terry to pick her, but she has my mom’ hair in her fist “Terry, let her hair go” I can’t get that shit out “you fucking with my daughter! Not my baby you got it!” Terry let her go and Jay picked Terry up like a child, looking away from my mom “anybody else” I said to Robyn “your whole family” nodding my head, walking over to Lionel. Picking the chair up and fixing it “get up” gripping him up “sit the fuck down” letting his top go as I stepped back, looking over at Terry. Jay is stood with her, he probably doesn’t trust her right now “you hear this shit?” my dad is sat there like everything is ok “I see and hear a lot Maurice, and where was you hm?.”

My dad questioned me “rule number one Maurice you don’t get drunk at your own party, you look sloppy. You know this, I say put on a show and I don’t expect you to be the class clown. Move to the left now” my dad said as I stepped to the left “are you alive still Lionel?” my dad asked him “yes, he just attacked me. I didn’t do anything” my dad put his hand up “so less than twenty four hours and the world knows you are the owner of the company this happens, what have I taught you Maurice? Have you just not listened; this can’t happen. You put on a show, it was your night and you made it into a clown day. I can’t clean your mess; I opened the paper and I didn’t see praise I saw you acting an idiot on the first night. I am quiet with you for that reason, and now you’re walking around in a suit you were partying in from yesterday, I want to beat you so bad! You don’t act right! Don’t give me that face, you’re thirty and you act like you just came out of that bitches pussy!” my dad pointed at my mom “do not get me started on you, you ruined his day also, but he is too stupid, let’s gather around and drink with enemies. I have sat with my enemies; I did every fucking day but they would never see me tripping and you damn sure wouldn’t see me drink with them. Lionel, I suggest you take down those posts on twitter about going to a rich cousins party and they hate each other, and that video of the argument that occurred with this idiot and her too. Oh son, this old man knows his stuff, I will die helping you. Grow up, how can Robyn learn to be with you and your life when you are blind yourself, still! I have tried to teach you everything” putting my head down “how is my little angel Robyn, is she happy?” my asked “she is ok, a little clingy today” Robyn answered “now Robyn, tell me what was said from Joy’ mouth” my dad has made me feel so small.

[lostborderline]

7/29/20

I keep not updating in increments of time and it’s truly because I have so much going on at once. This weekend was truly stressful for me. First, on Sunday, my dad came down to visit with his girlfriend to get my mind off things, y’know, about the domestic violence and mental abuse and other things like my boyfriend admitting to all the times he cheated whenever I confronted him about it and he denied it. My dad picked me up from work on Sunday and we decided to go to Misquamicut Beach in Rhode Island. It was so hot that day and walking around for like an hour trying to find a place to sit down and eat did not help our case. I did get sunburned a bit and I was wearing a t shirt and jeans like what the fuck. Eventually we got a reservation somewhere. This place did not have a lot of options available, but I chose to have a chicken quesadilla paired with a margarita. The margarita was subpar compared to other ones I have had in the past, but I did enjoy it. I had another margarita eventually, and then his girlfriend and I decided to share a huge alcoholic drink called the Fish Bowl. It’s like a half gallon of triple berry vodka, coconut rum, and others and it is dyed blue. We sucked it down and by then it was clear that I was drunk. I tried so hard to not show it, because I think it is embarrassing to be drunk in public, or drunk around a family member. On the way back to my place, I drank a can of sangria. Every time my dad and I hang out I get drunk. I had no problem walking it’s just my mind was going every which way and I didn’t like it. On the way back, they talked to me about moving, and how I should move back with them because of the current situation going on. I eventually agreed, and started texting my boyfriend everything they told me to say. Eventually my boyfriend pulled in the parking lot, not knowing that we were there too, so his girlfriend decided to confront him. We all get out of the car and go up to my apartment to pack up all my shit. My place was pretty messy so I was constantly falling over shit due to being drunk. I was also sweating so fucking bad and ran out of breath so quick. I managed to pack everything up in a matter of 20 minutes. My boyfriend was laying face down on the bed the entire time, crying. After packing everything up, I was in the hallway. I remember seeing three people out there and I was confused. I then realize that it was my boyfriend’s brother, witnessing the whole situation. I didn’t like it. I broke down, crying. My dad’s girlfriend started talking shit to my boyfriend and he retorted back and eventually I started screaming in my defense because everyone likes to backfire on me about past things I have done which was like a year ago. It seems that change doesn’t matter. I screamed that I had a video of what went on that night. I fell on top of my stuff in a mental breakdown. The last thing my boyfriend said to me was that he was going to come back for me, and that he loved me. I told him to please not, and walked away. We left, with my cat obviously. He was so calm during the situation, he laid in my lap the entire hour and a half drive up there, and never meowed once. My boyfriend was texting me the whole time telling me that he’ll change and do anything to get me back. He said he would quit smoking for me and help me get a car of my own. Not everything was clear during the car ride, everything is a little fuzzy and I’m not sure if I fell asleep. I remember getting up to Mass and unpacking my things from the car inside as well as placing my cat inside. We all left after to get a few things for the night at the only open store, CVS. I got a small bag of cool ranch Doritos, a can of soup, peanut butter lovers trail mix, a bottle of water, and a tall bottle of Gatorade with the sip lid. When I got back, I didn’t talk to anybody. My grandma said I should take a shower to wash away the day’s stress. I did that, and I didn’t feel any better. I got changed into a tank top and shorts to get comfortable, even though I wasn’t. I sat at the desk in front of my laptop trying to figure out the Wifi password so I could do my discussion board that was due in less than two hours. I couldn’t for the life of me and I started to break down. I knew things were so shitty, and I was feeling so homesick. I did eventually find the Wifi password and finished my board post. I was sobbing at this point, and I was on a phone call with my dad’s girlfriend, which she told me things were going to be okay. I eventually said yes to my boyfriend coming to get me after work at 6 AM. I believed that he would change. I had faith. I’m not sure I believe anything anymore. I slept, but I woke up a few times. The bed was not as comfy as the one back home. I was so fucking sad. I made a post saying, “I thought I knew what rock bottom was and the feeling of wanting to kill yourself, but now I am truly living it.”. I don’t think I can take anymore, honestly. 6 AM came, and I was slightly awake, half asleep and I felt like complete shit. I knew I had a hangover from the day before, my arms, legs were hurting like hell, aching. The rest of my muscles were sore, and I had only a slight headache. I was incredibly tired and felt worn out. I knew it was a hangover because every time I get really drunk like that, my arms are in immense pain the next day. I felt like I didn’t want to get out of bed, let alone leave the room to face everyone else in the house. I pondered how I was going to tell my grandma that I wasn’t staying. It was so heartbreaking to let them down, but my heart was sick and it wanted to go home. It wanted familiarity. It wanted security. It wanted stability. Yet, I knew that my life wouldn’t exactly be golden the way I wanted it to be. I got a call from my manager, she was so pissed at me the day before when I told her to forward my checks. She called to ask if I was coming back, and that if I did that I would have to work a shift as soon as I got back. I was dreading it. I absolutely needed a mental health day. I also needed money, though. I know next week my check will be absolute garbage for missing out on four hours. I did get up from the bed to get dressed and put on my shoes. I made an excuse to go out there, to make tea. So I looked for a tea bag that I packed with me and went out to the kitchen. My grandma asked me how I slept and if the shower helped. I lied and said it did a bit, it really did not. I took a few sips of my tea, and my grandma told me in the next few days of what I should do and what I would need for my room and stuff. I felt even worse just going along with what she said. Not exactly going along with her, but I remained silent as she suggested what I do while I was here. I broke the ice and said “I don’t know if I’m going to stay.” she told me to please give this a chance and that if I go back, my life would be shit and I wouldn’t be treated how I should be treated. She reminded me of how I would spend a week up here during the summer and how happy I was as a little girl. I was little, and things are so much different now. I didn’t know what love was, or pain, or anything. Now, pain is all I know, and I’m forever cursed with mental illness. I told her, “I know.” I told her that I believe that change could happen, and of my boyfriend’s efforts. I told her that he was on his way up here at the moment. She said, “no”. She would not allow me to have contact with him, let alone with him by ourselves. Once she accepted my decision, she called my uncle and my dad to let them know. My uncle freaked out on the phone, I could hear him screaming and it wasn’t even on speaker phone. He cares about me a lot. My dad called a little after and talked to me about it. He acknowledged that I was an adult and I have to make my own decisions, despite not wanting me to go back. My grandma broke down and cried “don’t do this”. I started tearing up. I hate to hurt people, especially family. It hurts so much. I just did not feel at home. She told me to call my therapist to see what I should do in that moment. I didn’t do it because I knew what I wanted. She also told me I need to take my medication and that I should go do so at that moment. I got up to try to look for it, but I couldn’t find it in the mess that was my stuff. During this time, my boyfriend was parked across the street, waiting for me and my grandma went outside to confront him. I dropped looking for the medication and watched what happened outside. I was told that she said that he looked like he was on drugs because he fell asleep waiting for me, and that the car smelled like pot. She said to him if he thought I was going back with him then he was wrong. She came back inside for a minute and then went back outside. She said to him that she can’t control what I do but if he lays his hands on me or abuses me again, that my uncle will come down there, find him, and beat his ass. She said he was not afraid to go to jail over me. As I was able to leave, I packed as much as I could into the car, I sadly had to leave my guitars and amp behind, along with a few other things such as my Beatles collection. I will come back for that. The last thing I needed to take was my cat, and I spent an hour looking for him. We eventually found him in the basement on the highest shelf.  Fast forward to today and every day is still mentally taxing on me. I try to not think about what happened, all of it, I just want to erase the memory from my mind. My boyfriend and I did argue. I saw that his mom texted him that she thinks we are not a good match for each other, and that every time I come over, I fall asleep and don’t talk or get comfortable with them. I do not fall asleep while I’m over there, and it makes me extremely angry to hear that me not being comfortable with his family is disrespectful. I want to beat it into her brain that if I’m not comfortable with my OWN family, what makes her think I’m going to be comfortable with hers. She told him that she doesn’t get it. Yeah, you’re close minded, we get it. You’re a perfect, loving family. My family has NEVER given each other a hug in their entire life. That is what I am used to, so this sudden all up in my face affection creeps me out and I don’t like it. I also saw that my coworker (his friend) texted him that he should kick my bitch ass out, to which he replied, “no doubt bro on god”. I got so mad at this, not only can he not kick me out because it is also MY place, but to agree with him and let him talk about me that way just makes my blood boil. I confronted my boyfriend with this and he got angry that I saw his texts and said that I would never change. He also asked why he should defend me. I told him if I didn’t see his phone how would I found out that he’s been cheating on me. He said to stop bringing up the past. I started screaming at this point. I mentioned that I was going to confront his mom and stand up for myself. He said that if I did that, he would post me all over Facebook. I told him that I thought he would have changed, but to lie to me about that and come and bring me home is a waste of my fucking time. I said to him I wanted to take a break from him for at least a week. I said I enjoy being alone. he asked me what good is it going to do for me to be alone and that the only reason I wanted a break was so that I could go message other dudes. This was not true at all, not even the slightest. I started just yelling to leave me alone and go away, but he wouldn’t. He kept trying to touch me, massage me, hug me, kiss me, and I just wanted some fucking space and for him to get out of face. He eventually left to go hang out with his friend, and that left me to go do my schoolwork and listen to my heartbreak sad depressing playlist. I feel more at peace when I am alone, and I don’t see why it is such a fucking problem to want that.