#and florida would fucking whoop as he jumped

[sabotourist]

You see there's a crucial difference between Spartans and Freelancers. Between their fucking insanity.

Spartans were indoctrinated as children. They are finely curated artisan crazy.

Freelancers are the results of some people looking around for the most fucked up individuals they could find and cherry picking the most batshit headcases possible.

See, it's artisanal insanity versus fully organic insanity.

Both results in people willing to jump out of airplanes or whatever.

#was talking with my friend about that scene from halo infinite #where chief jumps from the ship #into the pelican #and I asked which freelancers would do it #and like carolina and tex obviously #but then york would follow carolina #and south wouldnt let them show her up #and north would follow her #and someone would shove wash out #and florida would fucking whoop as he jumped #and i mean #maine #that sentence ends there #So basically if one freelancer jumped off a bridge all of them would #because again #they're all batshit fucking insane #rvb #red vs blue #red vs blue meme

[nanieliterature]

SHORT STORY: BRICK 🧱 LADY PT. 1

Verneisha was what my birth certificate said. By fifth grade the ‘Ver’ had been dropped and only ‘Neisha’ was acknowledged. High school came and Neisha had died too, I stepped into my true self and became ‘Nene’. Months after high school graduation I had no name, I had no family, and I had no money.

Let’s go to the beginning.

JULY 1989, Tampa FL

Hustlers will hustle. Each corner had at least three dealers, even with the Florida heat being it’s highest at 99 degrees Fahrenheit on a summer afternoon. There was one corner in the entire city where only one man stood. His hustle came easy unlike the others who moved in groups of pushers brazenly trying to catch sells. It was pitiful the way they begged fiends to cop from their bags.

“You want some rock, man?” A dealer asked, leaning in the car window of a man who belonged on Wall Street. “Buy mine. These the biggest rocks you’ll ever see in yo’ life man.” He held the pebble under the mans nose.

“Why is it yellow?” The fiend questioned.

There was no dealer in the world who would be cool with their work being downplayed, rather it had been truly stepped on or not; who the fuck did this crackhead think he was checking?

“Taste it,” the dealer demanded with a hardened face.

Another dealer from the same corner named T-Lo skipped up to the car window and boasted about his supply. “Try this then. I got that ring the alarm. Shit so good it’s gone have your ears ringing. Man it’s so good.”

The pale skinned man in his silver BMW coupe was becoming scared of the men at this point and wanted to ride off. He slowly begin to roll his window up when a flash of anger came into the first dealers eyes. He reached his hands through the window and popped the door open.

“Nah man’. You don’t come on this side and not buy nothing now I’m thinking you the police.” He grabbed the mans tie and threw him onto the hood of his own car. “You got a wire on pretty boy?” He gritted into his ear as he pinned him onto the burning hot car hood. Loud, heart piercing screams came from the buyers mouth as his face sizzled and melted. He tried to scream for help, he tried screaming that he wasn’t the police and didn’t work with the police but the dealer kept up with the punishment. After feeling like he was near death the dealer had finally released him and tossed him to the ground. Landing a hard kick to his ribs and then to his face. Leaving him rolling on the hard, lava hot, cemented paved road.

SKURRRRTTTTT

The sound of the silver BMW speeding off sent the fiend into a panic. While he was a fiend, he was just like many other fiends. Rich, successful, and married. How would he go home to his wife with burn marks on his face, possibly fractured ribs, cuts and scrapes from being thrown to the floor, and most importantly without his $100,000 car. Fighting tooth and nail, he got back to his feet as he struggled to breathe. The other dealers on the corner just looked at him stumbling away and down the street. He made it a good five blocks before he collapsed at the feet of some brown Penny loafers belonging to Vernon House. The 6 foot 2 man always dressed in the best, even standing here on the corner he looked fresh out of heaven. His white linen pants had the creases going down the middle of the leg, the matching button up was halfway open showing his large cross medallion dangling from his thick gold chain. A look of confusion spread across his face as he took a cautious step back from the passed out man. Only three people frequented this block and that was dealers, hookers, and fiends. He wasn’t a dealer or hooker so that left him as a fiend. He looked over his shoulders before putting two fingers to the mans neck to check for a pulse. Very strongly, the man still had a pulse. Vernon could’ve done what any other dealer would— kick this cracka off his corner. But he was a business man and knew building rapport with his junkies was money guaranteed. Without thinking twice he scooped the man up from the floor and drove him across town to his North Tampa home. His wife was there along with their three year old child. He knew bringing a junkie home would send his wife into flames but later down the line she would thank him. He was strategic man and always had a plan.

“Baby I need some help!” He called out to her as he bussed through the front door.

Her eyes grew twice the size the moment they landed on the white man being carried bridal style. In a flash she was hovering over him examining him as if he was an undefined object.

“Why in the world did you bring a dead body in here?!” She asked in a hush tone.

“He ain’t dead. Just fell out.” Vernon told her taking him to the couch. “Just get me some cold compresses and ice.” He started to take off the mans suit jacket and shirt.

A gasp escaped from the grown man mouth. He had never saw something like that. The side of the mans chest looked like his skin had sunken in. There was arrays of blue, purple, and black bruising with what he was sure was the mans rib bone sticking out. Whoever had gotten ahold of this man did a number on him.

After hours of nursing him to health. Edwin eyes finally cracked open, his throat extremely dry, and body in the worse pain one could imagine. His body went into survival mode and he tried to jump up from the sofa but it only made a burning sensation rip through his body.

“Woah. Woah. Take it easy my mans. You got yourself into some shit. You remember where you was at?” Vernon placed a friendly hand on his shoulder.

Edwin nodded back into consciousness and it all came rushing back to him. All he wanted to do was cop a 8 ball, but somehow got the ass whooping of his life and car jacked. He didn't know what he would say to his wife when he got home but he needed to start thinking and quick. 

“My wife is going to kill me.” is all he could muster up to stay. 

“We can see what we can do about that, you on the rocks? What was up on the AVE for you?” Vernon questioned. 

Edwins head dropped in embarrassment, since the crack epidemic started he was able to keep his nasty habit low-key but now he felt like his hands had been exposed. 

“I’m not here to judge you. Here try this shit... if you like it, you keep coming to me only and I’ll look out for you.” Vernon slid him a line and a rolled up dollar bill. Like a child takes to candy, Edwin snorted the crack up in a single second. Immediately he felt euphoria take over his essence. There's that feeling in his stomach that he loved so much, a soft mix of nausea and electric tingles. His head had begun to buzz and his heart rate increased as if he was running away like he wanted to.

From that moment on a friendship for life was formed. Whatever Vernon needed Edwin would get it and vice versa. Since the day Vernon never stood on another corner, he would have never imagined a junkie falling dead at his feet would make him the richest dope peddler in America. 

Copyright © 2021 by Jeniyah Tolbert  All Rights Reserved.

#writeblr #nanieliterature #urbanfiction #urbanfic #urbanauthors #streetlit #tampa #florida #black authors #crimemob #crime story #black art #writing

[btscreatorscorner]

Project Summary: Travel with a few members of the team here at BCC as they sit around a bonfire and reminisce on the days of summer. We will tell you interesting stories about tales that may be a little exaggerated about the members of a group of 7 guys that we have come to love. 

Links to stories and edits will be added as they are posted!! We will reblog the stories and edits as well~ We hope you enjoy!

Seeing each other was honestly a dream. It felt surreal to be able to meet up and camp with so many people from an online network, and they were smiling and laughing as they talked in person (some for the first time ever). The lulling sounds of the ocean waves became a white noise to everyone as they set up their tents and gathered firewood. They were having so much fun talking together that time had passed quickly, evening fast approaching and the sun sinking into the horizon creating a sea of colors in the sky. The sight was truly breathtaking. 

Simi’s and Lillia’s eyes locked onto the waving group down the beach. “Welcome everyone,” Alexis smiled as she returned to the campsite after scoping out the beach. 

“Hey Alexis! How’s the beach look? Any shark teeth?” Lillia asked, returning to chopping onions in preparation for dinner.

"You say that like she'd know. Are we forgetting that she's the ‘blind’ one?" Simi replied, snickering at Alexis's squint.

From the small crowd gathering on the beach came a range of different accents. Some were easily pinpointed and others a little more difficult to locate. Lillia continued guiding everyone down to the beach, within the group was a small and rather tired Jester with a large bag. Situated at the bottom of her bag was some sort of rolled up bedding.

“Excuse me, sorry I’m late, airport customs tried to steal my Vegemite” Jester called, eyes gazing straight past Simi’s shoulder. With no hesitation she dropped her luggage in the sand, kicked off her shoes and sprinted towards the ocean.  

Halting mere inches from the water, she teetered, waving her hands and trying not to topple into the surf from her abrupt stop. 

“Almost jumped in with my phone and your American paper dollarydoos” she shouted, racing back to the group. 

Jester proceeded to empty out her pockets, dumping twenty and fifty dollar notes and her phone into her shoes and running full pelt back to the water. With a warrior cry, she dove into the ocean causing quite the splash before the water stilled ominously.  

There was no sign of her — had she disappeared? An alarming amount of time went by and the group shuffled nervously before she breached with all the elegance of a blue whale gasping and flopping onto her side. 

A few of the others joined Jester whooping as they splashed into the water, others set to tasks they thought were a little more pressing, like designating tents. 

With what little sun they had left, they had managed to hold a few fun activities and lots of conversations.

As the sun finally set the sweet cotton candy colors in the sky darkened and from its depths emerged twinkling lights, the mood changed along with it. Food was tossed on the grill, the inferno causing the aroma to fill the beach. Everyone’s mouth was watering, excited to finally dig in. 

Simi was trying to organize gluten-free buns on one side and regular on the other. “The veggie burgers have finished. I cooked them on their own so it’s all good. I’m about to cook the meat patties — last call for meat-free grilling” Lillia called to the group with a bright smile, expertly flipping the spatula in her hand and getting back to work when there were no complaints.

The large group slowly began making themselves plates of food and once everyone was situated, the group was silent for a brief moment before Alexis decided to strike up some conversation. 

“...I think that would be a great idea, don’t you guys think?” 

The sounds of wood crackling could be heard in the background. Sepha watched as the smoke turned into the black of the burning wood and then to the fire-y orange and undertones of red. It had only turned out that way when she watched as one of the women drizzled more fluid over the fire. 

Looking to her left, she saw a welcoming smile and couldn’t help but feel guilty for not hearing the rest of what had been said.

“Sorry?” Sepha asked, watching as the rest of the group surrounding the fire laughed at her in confusion. 

“What kind of scary stories are you into? You know… typical gory types or mystery, maybe romance—” Lillia repeated emphasizing the last genre. 

“Murder mysteries are the most interesting…” At this, Amunet smiled at Sepha’s response and she couldn’t help but return it. 

“I like romance! You know the ones where people just go camping to see the stars, and the moonlight and it just smells like chocolate and marshmallows.” All eyes followed the light voice which sounded across the fire, belonging to none other than Kyub. Gabi couldn’t help but share a hopeless shrug with Sepha, who poked at the fire with her long stick. 

The fire gave a loud crackle, “Sounds nice...but with this kind of night when there’s no moon and just the sound of nature around you — it kind of makes you want to tell scary stories for the fun of it.” Alexis seemed to agree to Sepha’s last sentiment and continued roasting the marshmallow. 

“You’re right, though. Just darkness and nature, makes me think of murder.” Bubbles started up again which only earned a dry chuckle from across the circle. 

Mae spoke up for the first time, saying “morbid, but sure, what the hell” as she fidgeted with her own stick, apparently inventing something the campers could only assume was a s’more kebab. She seemed to struggle immensely considering the graham crackers didn’t have any holes in them for her stick. But they all watched, intrigued, as Mae continued stacking: cracker, marshmallow, chocolate, cracker, marshmallow, chocolate, cracker—

“What are you doing?” This time, the voice came from just outside the circle, Amunet was returning from her tent wearing a thick navy blue pullover sweater. She was looking at Mae’s invention with an arch to her brow but otherwise unphased. 

“What does it look like?” retorted Mae,  gently waving the kebab around for everyone to see which earned a couple of laughs from everyone as a graham cracker broke off. Mae’s resulting cursing drew even more laughs. 

Lillia began to clap, “A’ight! Let’s start with some stories eh?” She looked around, giving everyone her signature friendly smile before settling on Sepha. “I think you should start some things off Seph, with you know, all that murder mystery enthusiasm you have.” 

“Huh?” She was caught off guard, looking to see everyone anticipating eyes had fallen upon her and when she looked around the waiting company, she could see Kyub giving a soft encouraging smile. The nervous laugh bubbled out of Sepha's lips before she could stop it, and with a scuff of her feet against the sandy ground she was ready. 

“I-um—you guys ever hear that phrase,” The cautionary pause gave Sepha time to think it over, “You ain’t Jiving man?” There was a quick shake of Bubbles’ head to her far left.

“I have no idea what that means.” Jester hummed stabbing at least twelve marshmallows with a long skewer-like-stick. Another culinary mad genius. 

“It’s from the 70s, all that slang shit. Supposed to mean: ‘Is that the truth?’ Or at least the equivalent to it.” That earned hums all around as Sepha licked her lips, wondering how to start off her story. Mae and Jester smiled encouragingly as Sepha shook her head to focus herself before diving in. 

“Well, that phrase kind of relates to this story...at least kind of...maybe...I don’t know,” Sepha watched as Mae grabbed at the remains of a broken graham cracker, her frustration obvious enough in the way she picked at the pieces but it only earned her a cheeky smile from Bubbles who was right next to her. “I’m sure you guys heard of the case of Ted Bundy right? You know, infamous serial killer.” 

“He was fucking insane and not even handsome. I don’t even know what girls saw in him during that time.” As she spoke, Jester’s face twisted like she had bitten into a lemon and all Sepha could do was nod in agreement. She watched the fire again, poking at it and watching the ash burn up to the surface. 

“Well...I’m gonna tell a survivor story. Her name was Carol DaRonch, one of Bundy’s survivors and—”

“We should call her Katie! For, you know, copyright reasons.” This time the voice belonged to Bubbles; it was soft but managed to grab everyone’s attention in time before they could all fully dive into the story. At her suggestion, Sepha nodded and chuckled, poking at the fire once more, sending an array of sparkle-like embers into the night sky. She quickly moved the toe of her boot just enough to not get any of the burnt ash on it. 

Sepha nodded vigorously again and continued.

“Yeah...yeah let’s call her Katie…” she licked her lips once more and looked up to see the dark depths of the night sky there wasn’t a cloud in sight. When the group stared at the fire they could almost hear the sound of Marvin Gaye. The campers could feel the heat wash over them, in a way that reflected the heat of Florida. 

“It was a college party...in the summer of 1974….” 

“Okay, well that was dark. Interesting, but dark. I like it.” Mae had shifted from her seat on a log onto the dirt beneath, slumping with her back against the bark lethargically. Others nodded in agreement.

“Shall we lighten the mood with a happier story?” Bubbles asked, lifting her hands to warm them above the lively fire. It was quiet for a second before Mae spoke up again.

“I have one.” She changed her posture to sit slightly straighter when all eyes were on her. “It’s about a couple that got turned into fairies while camping in the woods one summer night.”

“Is that a drug reference?” Lillia raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“No.” Mae frowned.

“Knowing you, ‘turning into fairies’ could mean anything.” Lillia shrugged, earning chuckles from the group. The fire crackled just as Mae sent a sharp glare at the woman, but her lips betrayed her as they began to curl upwards at the teasing.

“My story has nothing to do with drugs— but it does involve magic.” This caught the attention of the crowd. “Did you know that fairies occupy many wooded areas around the world? Yeah, they tend to hide from humans, but in desperate times they can use their powers to recruit our help, just as they did last summer. 

“It happened somewhere in the Rocky Mountains in August of last year…”

Those scattered around the fire were left captivated by the fantastical tail Mae had spun. They had even paused from their s’more-making escapades, each slowly contemplating the idea of fairies. Some eyed the surrounding area outside the camp, others picked up where they left off preparing more marshmallows for their delicious dessert endeavors. In amongst the slowly roasting marshmallows was one completely engorged in flames. 

“Uh, Jester your marshmallow is on fire?” 

“Yup, that’s how I like them” She grinned brightly with green eyes sparkling full of mischief as she blew out the fireball that had encased the blackened crispy confectionary that once resembled a marshmallow. She shoved it into her mouth and shouted “My turn!”

“I have a good one.” Jester’s sharp grin seemed to be hiding something. “Hold onto your hats, this one is from my trip to Greece. You must always be careful when you travel to another country because anything can happen.

“It started in Mykonos...”

“And that’s what happens when you meet strangers in another country. I should have learned from the first two times I went overseas” Jester shrugged “Wild stuff, though”

“Actually no” Gabi interjected, pointing her finger in a pause gesture while she collected her thoughts. 

“Nope” Kyub’s eyes were wide; she blinked, once, twice in disbelief. Before she shook her head as if trying to rattle the thoughts back into place.

“That’s famously not what happens when you meet strangers in another country” Gabi continued her thought with a small sound of concern. 

“Yeah, I’m with them — that is most definitely not what happens.” Sepha laughed as Jester looked up confused. “Most people don’t go home with strangers, though, so I guess you could be right.”

“I mean yeah, that one was my bad I guess” Jester laughed.

“Who’s next?” Amunet asked excitedly, wishing to listen to more of the nightly stories.

Kyub looked a little nervous but after taking a deep breath she was determined to unleash her summer tale by way of pictures on her phone. “Mine isn’t exactly a story, I have some photos that I took over the summer that I think really tell a story. It was in a cemetery” her voice was sweet and gentle. 

“We would love to see!” Alexis smiled reassuring the young girl. Everyone seemed intrigued by the idea of the photos and how they would tell the story.

“It’s up to interpretation...”

“That is amazing, how did that even happen?” 

“You know the saying, ‘a picture is worth one thousand words’ and you have two” Jester grinned “like he is keeping the flowers a secret or like the flowers are something he loves and cherishes but keeps hidden.” Other voices chimed in:

“It feels so sad.”

“It feels so jarring that the colour is stripped away.”

“I like to think the first image is kinda, like, wistful or reminiscing and then when he looks down it is the reality.”

The entire camp seemed hit with raw emotion. There was a collective look of disbelief and someone sighed “That is so well done.”

Everyone had finished their stories and games for the evening and numbers started dwindling as the late hour took the sleepy camp goer’s. They all were settling for the evening, tents and sleeping bags rustling in the background alongside the occasional giggle, whisper and yawn.

Rolling out the khaki green bedroll, was Jester looking small in the contrasting light from the fire and shadow from the night. 

“Jester, where are you sleeping, do you wanna share a tent?” Gabi asked, deciding to offer a shelter. 

“Nah, I got my swag, I’m gonna lay by the fire and watch the sky.” She laid back and squinted up at the stars. “You should visit my little corner of the world where the stars look like milk.”

Credits: Thank you @youarejesting for working on this masterlist and @kyub for doing the amazing banner! And thank you to all of our writers, editors and betas who worked hard on this project: @youarejesting , @kyub, @dead-starlight, @bubblebunnylia, @sweetnspicy93, @bussy-posts, @jiminniethemarshmallow​, @moccahobi​, @yourmoonchild1023​, @jung-hoseok-s-airplane​, and @hesperantha​ for betaing the masterlist!!! 

#bts #project #masterlist #kim namjoon #namjoon #rm #suga #min yoongi #yoongi #kim seokjin #seokjin #jin #jhope #jung hoseok #hoseok #jimin #park jimin #v #kim taehyung #taehyung #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bcc projects #bts fanfction #sitting around the campfire #hope you enjoy

[artificialqueens]

At last we find each other (Branjie) - Thorpe

A/N: Long time, no see! So basically I’m staying on brand. It was “Those long van rides”’s first birthday on the third, and the best way to celebrate fics is with more fics, don’t you think? So here it goes, my 5+1 story, that would not grace your screens for a couple months more if it wasn’t for Pinkgrapefruit, Freyja, and, most importantly, Dane. Neither it would without the most amazing beta this fandom knows, Meggie. I’m so excited to be able to show you my work again, so without further ado - enjoy xx

Five times Brooke Lynn and Vanjie didn’t meet, and one time the did

In fairytales, if two people are meant to be together, their paths will cross eventually. That’s how fate works. 

But life is not a fairytale.

1.

They were at yet another pageant. Vanjie still couldn’t believe how many of them could be organized in the span of a single month - all mixing into one feast of colours, sequins, and foundation too orange to match anyone’s skin tone. They used to be busy before, but with Alexis’s career taking off, “busy” was an understatement. It was only for the good, though. More bookings meant better money and people catching interest in him as well - two things no young queen would complain about. He was enjoying a brief moment of a break before they had to get ready for their performance, all the hustle and bustle of the contest beginning to wear his ever-so-cheerful persona off.

The talent show segment had just begun and Alexis was going in as one of the last girls. Good - they’ll end it with a bang. Vanessa felt a rush of excitement just at the thought of what they had prepared, jumps and twirls and drops he was ready to slay. He was backstage of the venue, peeking through the slit between the glittering silver of the curtains from where he was leaning on the wall. It was hotter than concrete probably should be, but then again - with strong lights everywhere, poor air conditioning, and pressure so high it was clawing at the ceiling - everything there was too hot for comfort. He didn’t have the time to get a good look at the other contestants since their arrival - there were way too many of them, and he was hungry, so once he clapped and whooped as his drag mother charmed the jury, he went on to look for the buffet. Judging from what he could see now, he hadn’t lost much. The curvy redhead on the stage did have some good moves, Vanjie had to admit that, but watching her struggle with her wig constantly getting tangled up in the embroidered material of her sleeves was far more entertaining than the performance itself. Yeah, Alexis had this title sewn up, whichever it was. He chuckled under his breath. Almost on cue, one of the other back-up dancers came looking for him, gesturing to follow her.

“Alexis wants us to go through the routine once more,” she said over the high pitched voice of the host announcing another contestant, her expression reflecting the exasperation  Vanessa felt. He rolled his eyes.

“Hoe’s crazy, she a drag queen or cardio instructor? Hope ya have that mug all set, I tell you that! Mama gon’ whoop your ass if you get on that stage looking busted.” Cackling louder than he should, he uncrossed his arms and used them to push himself off the wall to stand straight. As he was following her down the corridor, he heard the audience cheer louder and more enthusiastically than before. Curious, he tried to look back, but was already too far to see a tall blonde entering the stage in pointe shoes, so he simply shrugged and rushed to keep up with his companion.

2.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Brooke sounded more than skeptical, brows furrowed, as he took in the sight of his friend. Steve was sitting on the bathroom floor - body sluggish against the wall and face the shade of pale that borders on greenish.

“Yeah, must have eaten something off. You and your damn seafood,” he mumbled, probably aiming for a querulous tone, but coming off tired at best, his eyes closed and temple resting on the cool tiles.

“Oh, hold on, bitch, don’t blame me. It was you who came up with the idea!” His mocked offence was soon alleviated by gentle hand coming to rub one of the sickly looking man’s shoulders as he crouched next to him. “You want me to get you anything? Water or something?”

A small ’Water would be nice’ was directed towards his back, as he got up not waiting for the answer, determined to come up with something that would help his friend. He frowned at how weak it sounded and tried to remember some the home remedies his mum used to prepare. Citrus, maybe, or was it for cold? Muttering to himself, he looked at the cabinets with puzzled expression, trying to figure out where the glasses could be. He found them on his first try, realizing Steve’s Chicago apartment was organized just like his old one back in Toronto. He smiled at the memories of all the evenings they spent there, only to wake up in a state similar to Steve’s present one on the next morning.

“I didn’t find anything with ginger, but this will do.” Coming back to his friend’s misery den, he used his chin to point at a mug of chamomile tea he was carrying on a small tray. “And water with lemon, it should help… I think.”

“Won’t be worse than it is now, eh?” Steve lifted the corner of his lips in a crooked, but warm smile. Brooke let out a little laugh and sat by his side, carefully placing the tray on the floor within arm’s reach. “Don’t get all comfortable here, you better start getting ready if we want to make it to the show.”

“Actually, I thought we’d pass on Roscoe’s tonight, you know? You’re not quite killing it on the dance floor right now.” Canadian queen bumped shoulders with the shorter man, raising an eyebrow at him with a smirk when he huffed.

“With a little help of my lovely nurse Hytes here, I’ll be back in shape in no time.” Not bothering with a response, he just glared at the still awfully pale face. “Don’t look at me like that, Brock. You didn’t come all this way to sit in my bathroom. We’re going out.”

“Listen up, bitch. What I came all this way for was to see my best friend. If I cared about clubs I might have just as well stayed in Nashville.” Both his voice and eyes were unusually stern, warning against raising any protest. Soon his face softened as he placed a hand on top of the other man’s one and squeezed it. “I’ve missed you. And if freezing my ass out on those hideous tiles means spending time with you, you can bet I’m down for it.”

“You really are the best, B, you know that?” Steve turned his palm around and squeezed Brooke’s in return, looking up at his friend.

“I do,” the blonde followed back quickly, sly smile widening to an amused grin as the bearded man shoved him playfully. They both leaned back in comfortable silence, Steve sipping his tea, and their hands still interlocked loosely. After a bit, Brooke remembered something. “Who’s performing tonight, anyway?”

“Uhm, some of the local girls, regulars mostly. But there’s someone new, from Florida, I think. Heard she’s a great dancer, really turning it out.” Steve noticed his friend’s sparking interest at his words. “You’re sure you wanna miss out on that?”

“Positive. If she’s really that good I’ll probably get to see her somewhere else, too.” Brooke nodded before helping himself up. “Now, I wasn’t joking about freezing out. We’re either moving to the couch, or I’m building a pillow fort here, you decide.”

3.

The bouncing of his own leg started to annoy him, but it’s not like he had much else to do. For what felt like the millionth time, and probably was pretty close to that in reality, Vanessa let his eyes wander over the departures hall of the Tampa Airport. Children playing tag - or another game that required running around the two huge metal flower pots and screaming like little banshees - on his right, an older woman lifting her crossword to the harsh white lighting and squinting her eyes behind big glasses before writing in another answer, black plastic of the three empty seats, a teenager in headphones tapping to the rhythm on the handrail, young, dog-tired couple with a baby - or just a bundle of blankets from his perspective, a blonde dozing off with her head on another girl’s lap, and a row of windows on the left. He studied the dirt in the corners of the frames and the pattern on the hackneyed green carpet, not even hoping to notice something new, having spent almost two hours on memorizing every spot and abrasion. Slowly, he transferred his gaze to one of the screens, his usual Duracell Bunny attitude long worn out, to once again discover that nothing had changed. Father rocking the baby in his arms, young boy’s fingers twitching to the slightly faster tempo, another crossword solved, and the same red letters arranged into the word ‘DELAYED’ next to the number of his flight.

The Puerto Rican squirmed in his place - another futile attempt to make himself more comfortable - thinking on a way to convince RuPaul to speed up the season premiere. He needed big gigs with bigger tips to start coming, so that he could pay for the VIP lounge and not deal with those cheap-ass plastic fuckers anymore. Did she have a dog? Or a cat? Maybe he could kidnap it and demand the tapes as a ransom, smuggle it into his bag or something. The sudden scratching of the loudspeakers interrupted his inner contemplation of whether Riley would take to their potential hostage. The voice of a bored woman didn’t  sound sorry at all as it was sincerely apologizing for the inconvenience (inconvenience his ass, it was a hell of fucking disaster) and regretfully informing that the delayed flight to Nashville was canceled . Just like that, Vanjie was back at 10, jumping from his seat, ready to throw hands at the first airport worker he saw. He had to settle for muttering curses in two languages, as complaints and grunts took up all the air in the hall. He unlocked his phone and angrily tapped on one of the contacts.

“Miss Vanjie.” He rolled his eyes at the greeting Kameron chose, exasperation fading slightly. “Shouldn’t you be on a plane right now?”

“Child, don’t even tell me.” There it was, anger back to its full form. “Been here for hours, waiting for my gate to be announced, all patient and shit, and now they go sayin’ the bitch won’t fly!”

“Wait, what? Nah, girl, you have to be here!” The Nashville queen whined. They wrapped up filming not even two weeks earlier, but all of the season 10 girls already wanted to meet up, and Kameron’s belated birthday party was a perfect occasion for them to catch up and try to get all of the details out of the top four.

“Lemme go find that plane, Imma go there like ‘Hey, Captain Mateo’s on board, where we flyin’?’ Or ain’t it a pilot? Pilot Vanessa ready to take over!” He heard cackling on the other side and felt himself smile a little as well. With a sigh, the tanned man sat down and started playing with loose threads at the hem of his shorts. “I’m sorry Kammy, it cancelled. Won’t make it”

“No way. When’s the next flight?” Bodybuilder Barbie insisted, but seemed a bit distracted, and he could hear some muffled voices coming from the other side.

“Tomorrow. No connecting flights or whatever.” The way regret sounded in his voice brought back the still bitter memory of his elimination, making him feel even worse. Maybe it was better if he harassed Ru into not airing the season at all? “Can’t do that, gotta be home in the evening, ya know she’s a werkin’ woman, baby.”

“Ow, such a shame, we’ve…” Kameron trailed off and he could hear her talking to someone else. “Sorry, Brooke’s helping me set everything here. I haven’t even unpacked all of my stuff yet, she’s a lifesaver.”

“Who dat?” The name sounded familiar, woke up some faint memories of a crowd cheering and anger boiling behind Alexis’s practiced smile as she waved in a runner-up sash. He recalled green eyes catching him staring in the changing room, but he wasn’t sure - maybe it was someone else.

“Brooke Lynn Hytes. You’ve never met her?” Kam was genuinely surprised. “Girl, you’d love her. I bet you’d hit it off-  What? Shit, no, I forgot. Uh, sorry, Vanj, I have to go. Talk to you soon, girl!”

“Sure. You guys have fun.” His friend hung up with a final goodbye, and he rubbed his eyes, trying to remember which one of those identical counters he was supposed to go to to get a refund on his ticket. Stepping in the direction of a long queue he noticed a familiar old lady standing in, he tried to shake off the pressing feeling of missing out on something important.

4.

He didn’t act on impulse, he didn’t. He planned his every move and word and decision, instinct to always strive for precision etched into lean body with tired muscles, judging eyes of strict choreographers, and ribbons tightly wrapped around his ankles. Impulsiveness was uncertain ground, and expectations growing heavier with every title and crown needed a solid foundation. And yet, there he was - comfortably seated against his headboard with Apollo curled next to him, hitting the blue icon and opening an empty conversation against his better judgment, not allowing doubts and what ifs to change his mind. The last notes of “To the Moon” still played in the background as his fingers started typing.

Watching past seasons, realistically he had known he wouldn’t make it in the casting because of the green card, but seeing all of the queens that got in - he couldn’t help looking for other reasons that wouldn’t get him through, every single thing they had and he didn’t. Maybe it was the fact he finally got the call himself, his life becoming a frenzy of alterations and toning Courtney’s excitement down, or that he kind of knew Vanessa - saw him performing, stood dumbstruck with eyes struggling to follow impossibly quick movements, relishing in the energy and pure joy his small body radiated - and knew how much more he had to offer, but this time, instead of spotting differences, he found a connection.

‘I don’t wanna get emotional with a lot of people,’ the Latino man had said, unwilling to let his resolve crumble for everyone to witness, but breaking down in a lonely corner with Eureka, and the Canadian felt his heart fall a little with bitter wave of understanding. He listened to the crushed voice talking about his fears of letting his family down, disappointing his mum - fears Brooke Lynn knew all too well; saw him holding a silver statuette and winced at the image of himself being in the exact same position in a couple of months - clutching the cold metal like it could prevent his dreams from shattering down on the floor, dreading the thought of all the sets of eyes trained to the screen at Play Nashville.

But, obviously, he couldn’t have written that, so he set for a short and nice message showing his support, nothing too personal or potentially embarrassing. They didn’t know each other that well and, actually, maybe even reaching out to him after his elimination in the first place would come off as overstepping. After all, it must have been close to a year - Vanjie had surely gotten over it months earlier. For a second his finger hovered over the little arrow, weighing the arguments for and against, but he hastily sent the message before he got to think on it too much. I probably won’t see him anytime soon, anyway, he reassured himself with a deep breath, but once in a while glanced to check if the message was received, imagining short fingers sliding over the screen and plump lips curling in the corners.

Two months later, when his apartment looked more like a Samsonite shop than his usually organized space, he set up three alarms to make sure he got up in time to get to the airport and hesitantly opened his Messenger app, scrolling down to one particular conversation.

After checking if the alarms were turned on, he rolled over. And if his smile was a little sad, it was too dark to tell.

5.

DragCon was fun. He was having fun, it was great. He had his booth dripping with flowers, his silhouette snatched, pink and sparkling - all Barbie fantasy that would not get knocked out the first episode, if he could have gotten his hot glue gun on Cazias’s level (or himself on the sewing machine’s level). There was a line of people who came to support him, waiting to take a photo, gagging on his merch and his lovely mama selling it, and he couldn’t have been more grateful. Even if it all was a bit tiring. 

“Hi, gorgeous. Look at that, you look great. Come on, do a twirl. Yes!” He laughed and clapped as a short girl made a turn, long, black braid attached to her hat spinning with her. He pointed at the pentagram sewn on the hat’s brim. “What’s that? You some witch? Mary, if ya lookin’ for Miss Sharon, try again. Ain’t no bobbidi-boo here.”

“I’m in a some sort of a coven, yeah,” she laughed. How excited she seemed didn’t fit with her edgy look - all back and revealing, a crop top with a logo Vanessa didn’t recognize - but it matched her sweet voice and bright smile perfectly. “Oh my God, I can’t believe I’m here. I’m running to the show, but I saw your booth and just had to stop by. You’re amazing.”

“You so sweet, thank you. Let’s get a photo. A nice, pretty photo with that mug of yours.” He led her to the pink wall and posed. As the girl got her phone back from the photographer and checked the time, she suddenly started gathering her bags in hurry and apologized, adorably rambling about the fashion show she was heading to. Vanjie didn’t catch most of it, just that her friend, B-something, was walking in it, but he cackled regardless, amused with the girl’s babbling, before going to give her a usual hug goodbye. “Say hello to that model friend from me, won’t ya? Bye! Have fun!”

Soon the commotion started to die out a bit, and as he could see the end of the queue approaching, he couldn’t say he wasn’t relieved. His fans always hyped him up, but after hours of feeling the tape pull, laces squeeze, and bottoms of his feet prick from standing in heels, he’d have taken every break he could get.

“Vanjie! Can we talk with you for a second?” Vanessa sighed at the sight of WowPresents’s crew approaching him. That’d be it for his break . “We’re interviewing queens for the promotion videos, and we’ve been asking them about you.”

“That’s why everyone saying ‘Miss Vanjie’? It’s just my fucking name. I ain’t mad, though, I love it.” Ever since he appeared in the convention centre there had been people screaming his iconic quote at him at every turn - the crowd providing better acoustic than freaking Grand Canyon, two words constantly echoing in some part of the room.

“Guilty.” The young man holding the microphone laughed. “Could you tell us more about who Miss Vanjie is?”

“Miss Vanjie is a wild, ghetto bitch from Tampa, Florida. Puerto Rican background. And got eliminated first, and is legendary. That’s what Vanessa Vanjie is. With a lotta’ flowers an’ a lotta’ Barbie. They didn’t like it, though, so it got a boot.” He said it like nobody’s business, all cheeky - the nerve everyone loved brought up for the camera. He had had a hard time dealing with his elimination, felt like a failure, and when the ‘Miss Vanjie’ thing blew up, he first thought he was a joke. But as the love and support around him grew, he came to rebuild his confidence. And with season 11 popping up, he felt just that, legendary. “What did those other hoes say ‘bout me?”

The cameraman exchanged a meaningful look with the interviewer. “Actually, why won’t you ask them yourself?”

They were walking through the convention centre, music blasting and people bustling around them, looking for his sisters that hadn’t been interviewed yet. He kept waving to people and screaming through the megaphone in his hand - the sound guy regretted having given it to him after five minutes - as they were approached by a smiling couple and a little boy wearing a feather boa and looking absolutely dumbstruck. He leaped to greet the boy with a bright smile before his mother finished introducing the boy - Noah - as his ‘biggest fan’.

“Ya wanna be a drag queen, little man?” he asked, and the boy eagerly nodded. Vanjie noticed the ballet shoes on his little feet. “Oh, you a dancer? Show me some moves.”

Noah took a step back and stood on his toes to make a turn, ended with a bit shaky arabesque. Vanessa eagerly started applauding him, motioning for the crew to do the same. Noah looked a bit shy and reached for his mum’s hand before speaking, but he smiled back at Vanjie. “I do ballet.”

“A drag queen ballerina? Ya know, someone’s gotta be first,” he smiled warmly. Kids were his favourite part of DragCons, so passionate and creative, and so, so cute. “Gonna keep my fingers crossed for ya. All of ‘em, just watch it.”

Drag queen ballerina , he thought to himself as he bid his goodbye and got the last hug. That’d be something to see.

+1.

Back straight. Shoulders back. Head high.

Breathe in. Hold it. Breathe out. Repeat.

Smooth out the wig. Is that a tangle? No, he brushed it out perfectly, breathe in.

Maybe he messed it up checking? Is there a mirror somewhere? Don’t think, hold it.

Remember your lines. They’re stupid. And boring. He should have thought about something funny. He’s going to make a fool of himself at the very beginning, and now it’s too late to change them, and- Calm down, breathe out.

It’s going to be fine, it’s all going to be fine. It’s not going to be fine, it’s-

A man with headphones, whose name he had heard, but forgot immediately, approached him and gave him a last minute warning, bringing him back from the verge of falling into the spiral. Brooke shook his head - it wasn’t the time to get distracted. He stood at the red line painted on the floor and forced his hand to stay still at his side, despite nervous itching to make sure his hat wasn’t tilted.

“And… you’re on. Come on, good luck.” He opened his eyes, losing the image of smiling Farra, but the encouraging words she would always tell him before every pageant still rang in his head as he started walking towards the streams of bright lights slipping through the pink door frame at the end of the corridor. With every step the screams and laughter got louder, but he couldn’t pick up anything because of the erratic beating of his heart. Breathe in. Hold it. Breathe out. He was almost there, red sequins on his costume glimmering like perfectly cut rubies in the first bits of light already reaching him - making him feel regal, confident, right. Ducking his head a little - just in case - the Northern queen put on his well-practiced smile.

“Is she international?” A loud voice cut through his adrenaline-induced haze, and Brooke automatically turned his head to the left, looking for its source, taken aback for a second upon catching the sight of a smile he knew as good as his own. Without thinking, he rushed to Nina’s side, matching her grin, and fell into familiar embrace. It can’t be that bad with her here, he thought to himself, eyes roaming over heavily painted faces surrounding him, taking in curiosity, furrowed brows, amusement, and- oh .

At the end of the table he saw a short man covered in glitter, though he guessed his skin would have a golden glow even without it. He was clad in red - the shade loud and summoning attention, suiting him perfectly - tight dress hiding toned muscles that had had his gaze lingering a tad too long on Instagram. Full lips curled into the brightest smile he’d seen, showing rows of blindingly white teeth, lighting up the pretty features Brooke knew for a fact weren’t painted on, and bringing a glint to his eyes, which managed to seem playful even behind blue lenses as he returned the Canadian’s ogling with equal interest.

There wasn’t a flutter in his heart, a pang in his chest, or a rush of warmth in the pit of his stomach. It didn’t feel like coming home, like two pieces of puzzle fitting together, or like never having to wonder if he’s enough.

Not yet.

But there was a spark, electrifying the air between them more and more with every quick glance across the room and quirk of lips sealed with a shared secret none of them fully knew, but guarded regardless. And it felt like a promise, like a long time coming change they didn’t realize they had been waiting for until then.

In fairy tales, if two people are meant to be together, their paths will cross eventually. That’s how fate works. But life is not a fairy tale. 

Except sometimes, sometimes it is.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #fluff #canon compliant #the pre-origins we know nothing about so I made them up #thorpe #concrit welcome #submission

[spine-buster]

I Thought You Might Be Mine (Ricochet) - Part 5.5

February 8th, 2018 Orlando, Florida

On a chilly winter’s day in the beginning of February, while Iris Capshaw spoke with Tommaso and Christopher outside of the rings, the last thing she thought she would hear was, “There’s the bitch I gotta talk to.”

When Iris spun around to locate the voice, she saw Tessa Blanchard making her way towards her, a determined and angry look on her face.  It was then that Iris realized she was the bitch Tessa was looking for, and the bitch Tessa wanted to talk to.

“Tessa?  What are you doing he --”

“Don’t play fucking dumb with me,” Tessa growled as she got into Iris’s personal space, causing Iris to back up a few steps defensively.  

Immediately, Chris and Tommaso moved to separate Tessa away from her, pulling Iris back even more.  “Hey Trev…Trevor!” Chris called out from behind her, yelling loud enough so Trevor, who was on the other side of the room in another ring, could hear – and if he couldn’t, at least the word would get out.  “Someone get Trevor!”

“For such a smart bitch you always play fucking dumb.  That act is over,” Tessa warned.

“What are you talking about?”

“You think you can just waltz around here and pretend you don’t know?  You know what the fuck is going on, Iris.  You know what this is about.”

Iris honestly had no idea, and was getting more scared every second.  She knew the men surrounding her would intervene if anything was to happen, but that didn’t stop the nerves.  Tessa could absolutely whoop her ass if she wanted to – easily.  Like, it wouldn’t even be a fight.  Not that Iris would get into a fight.  But Tessa was definitely looking for one.  

“Tessa, I honestly have no clue what you’re talking about,” Iris said as calmly as she could.  “What’s going on?”

Tessa pursed her lips before chuckling to herself and rolling her eyes.  “Such a dumb bitch,” she muttered.  In a flash second, her expression changed from annoyed back to angry.  Before Iris could comprehend what was happening, she felt Tessa shove her violently, causing Iris to stumble back into Tommaso who had blocked her from crashing into the ring apron.

‘Hey hey hey hey!  Whoa whoa whoa!  Tessa!  Tessa get out of here!  Tessa what the fuck?!  Hey now!’ Iris heard a flurry of voices as Tommaso caught her.  Wrestlers from the nearby ring dispersed to be on the frontlines of the situation.  Out of the corner of her eye, Iris noticed John Gargano jump out of the ring and throw himself in between her and Tessa.  

“Tessa, what the fuck are you doing?!” John demanded.  

“This fucking bitch knows what she did!” Tessa exclaimed.

Before anyone could say anymore, the one person who both women wanted to be there – needed to be there – showed up, clearly fuming.  “The hell’s going on here?” Trevor demanded.  When he saw Iris so close to Tommaso, John in between the women, and the look of pure hatred on Tessa’s face, he got a general idea.  This was happening.  This was really happening at the Performance Centre.  “What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded from Tessa.

“It was Iris all along, wasn’t it?” Tessa demanded.  “She’s one of the girls you fucked with, isn’t she?”

“Tessa --”

Oh.  Oh.  So this was happening right now.  In front of everybody.  Iris couldn’t believe that everybody at the Performance Centre was going to be privy to this.  The thought of them watching, seeing, hearing everything made her skin crawl.  “We never --” Iris tried to get a word in.

“I didn’t ask you, bitch,” Tessa growled at Iris.  

“ENOUGH!” Trevor screamed at his ex-girlfriend.  From behind Trevor, Iris watched as none other than William fucking Regal entered the fold, pushing trainees out of the way so he could see what the commotion was.  She felt like she was going to throw up.  “You think I was hooking up with all these other girls --”

“You were, Trevor!  And she was probably your main fuck, wasn’t she?” Tessa nodded her head in Iris’s direction.  “Just tell the truth for once in your life, asshole!”

“You want the fucking truth?  Here’s the fucking truth,” he growled, staring down his ex-girlfriend.  “Every time I begged for something to happen with Iris, literally begged, on my hands and fucking knees, she rejected me.  Every.  Fucking.  Time.  I wish to God something had happened between the two of us so I wouldn’t have had to put up with this!”

And there it was, out in the open.  In front of all his peers, bosses, and trainers, Trevor had taken the bullet for her.  He made himself look like the bad guy.  He lied, of course – but only he and Iris knew that.  On record now, in front of some of the most important people in the wrestling industry, he took the brunt of the blame.

“I don’t believe you,” Tessa spat at Trevor, shaking her head.  She turned to look towards Iris.  “You’re a fucking snake.  I know you two hooked up--”

“Tessa, for the love of God, I’m engaged!” Iris finally found her voice.  She threw up her hand to show her ring, as if everyone crowded around them didn’t already know.  “You know!  You know I’ve been engaged since last year!”

“It doesn’t matter!”

“Of course it matters!  God, Tessa, stop projecting your insecurities onto me!”

That apparently hit a chord, because Tessa’s face scrunched up in anger again, and for a moment, Iris thought she would battle through John and Tommaso for another shot at her.  It wasn’t until William Regal stepped forward that Iris felt a miniscule safer – but she didn’t put it past Tessa to bypass him and lunge at her.  Especially considering how mad she was.  “Miss Blanchard, I think it’s time you leave now,” William Regal said in as calm a voice as he could muster.

Tessa looked at Regal, the anger from her face relaxing slightly.  “Can’t believe this place hired such a slut.”

“Get out of here now, Tessa.  I mean it.  I will not have you insult one of my employees,” Regal continued.

There was a moment of pause, everybody on edge looking at Tessa, before she let out a chuckle.  She shrugged her shoulders, holding her hands up in defeat.  She turned around, moving to walk out, and the crowd that had formed around them made a path for her exit.  When she was near the end, she turned to look at the rings.  By this point, everybody was watching the commotion, even if they had stayed in their designated rings.  “Watch out ladies!” Tessa announced to everyone who was listening.  Iris gulped.  “Keep your men close!  You never know who’s gonna steal them from right under you.  Make sure they go nowhere near the company cum bucket.”

“GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE, TESSA!!!” Trevor completely exploded at her words.  

Iris didn’t see or hear much else.  Her hands shot up to her face as she felt tears well up in her eyes faster than they ever had before she left abruptly, running away from the situation completely.  She felt horrible.  She felt dirty.  She felt sick.  She felt like someone had just punched her in the gut and kicked her in the ribs and all she could do was sit there and take it.

It had been almost once year since March 31st, 2017, and every day since then, Iris played mental games with herself about whether or not she was responsible for what had happened that night.  She had never asked Trevor for proof that he and Tessa had broken up.  She never asked any of their mutual friends to see if it was true.  She didn’t ask him to stop all his touching and cuddling.  She didn’t stop herself, either.  She didn’t derail the conversation or ask for it to end before they started kissing.  She didn’t do anything.  She didn’t do anything.

She was already engaged.  He wasn’t in a relationship.  

She was the bad guy here.  She was the bad guy.  And if Trevor lied to her, if he and Tessa were still together at that time…well, then, she deserved everything that happened.  She deserved every bit of it.  Without question.  If Tommaso hadn’t been behind her when Tessa shoved her and she crashed into the ring apron back first, she would have deserved it.  If Tessa had punched her across the face, she would have deserved it.  If Tessa had dragged her by the hair through the Performance Centre, all the way outside, and thrown her in the lake, she would have deserved it.  No question.

If Trevor had lied to her, she was going to lose it.  

As Iris made her way back towards her office, her hands were shaky as she found the phone number of the only person who would be able to give her answers.  The only person able to guard a secret with his life, but with enough morals to share that secret when it was called for.

And right now, it was called for.

“Whaddup, chick?” Dustin answered his phone after only three rings.

“Were Tessa and Trevor together at Rev Pro last year in Orlando?” Iris asked immediately, not bothering with niceties.

“What?”

“Tessa and Trevor.  Were they together last year in Orlando?  At that Rev Pro show?”

“What’s it matter?”

“Answer me!” she demanded.

“Iris, how the hell am I supposed to know?!  I wasn’t at that show!” he exclaimed.  “What the hell is going on?”

“March 31st, 2017,” Iris recited the date by memory.  “Orlando, Florida.  Dustin, were they together or not?  Tell me.”

“March 31st?  Definitely not.  They had a huge blowout just after Valentines and didn’t get back together until, like, mid-April as far as I know.  They were back together by my birthday on April 22nd,” he informed her.  “Iris, what the hell is going on?  What’s wrong?”

Before she could answer him, the door swung open and Trevor barged in the room.  She immediately hung up her phone, leaving Dustin high and dry.  She threw her phone into her chair as she glared at him.  

Trevor shut the door half way before moving to walk towards her.  “Baby --”

“Don’t you fucking – don’t!” she warned, backing up from Trevor’s advances.  He looked absolutely shocked that she didn’t want him close to her.  It was probably the first time ever that was the case.  “Don’t you dare.  Don’t you dare!  What the fuck what that?!”

“I don’t know!  How would I know?!” he threw his arms out in confusion.

“You fucking promised me Trevor.  You promised.  You told me you two weren’t together --”

“We weren’t!  We weren’t together,” he reassured her, trying to grab her hand.

“Don’t fucking lie to me!” she snapped, snatching her hand away from him violently.  The tears began to fall down her cheeks as she tried desperately to maintain her composure.  “Don’t you fucking dare lie to me, Trevor!  Were you two together or not?”

“NO!” he screamed out.  “No!  We weren’t!  I promise you!  I didn’t lie to you!  I would never lie to you!”

“Trevor, I swear to fucking God --”

“When have I ever lied to you, Iris?  I’ve been honest with you from the beginning!”

“Then be honest with me now!”

“We broke up after Valentine’s Day because we had a really bad fight, like I told you.  When you came to Rev Pro we were not together,” Trevor explained as calmly as he could.  “We had a long talk two weeks later and decided to try one more time right before Dustin’s birthday in Philly.  I never cheated on her with you.  Ever.  I would never do that to her.  More importantly I would never do that to you.”

There was a moment of silence between the two, mostly for Iris to internalize what he was saying.  Was it just a coincidence that his story matched Dustin’s?  Had they collaborated on this story?  Or were the two men telling her the absolute truth?  “You better not be lying.  I swear to God…” she huffed.

“Iris…I love you.  You know I love you.  I would never do anything to hurt you,” he said quietly, approaching her with incredible patience.  The fact that she wasn’t flinching away from him made him feel slightly better about the situation.  “You gotta believe me.  I’m telling you the truth.”

Iris bit her lip.  “I can’t do this right now, Trevor,” she shook her head.  “I can’t do this.  Not now.”

“Iris--”

“I was just verbally assaulted at my work – in front of my bosses – by one of your ex-girlfriends.  I’m probably on the verge of getting fired and I’m going to have to explain to my fiancé it was because Tessa thought I was hooking up with you.”

“Baby --”

Before their conversation could go any further, Iris’s door sung open again, only this time, William Regal was on the other side.  When he saw the two in the room together, albeit at least six feet apart, he assessed the situation quickly.  “Trevor.  Out.  Now.”  

“But Mr. --”

“Out,” William repeated sternly, not giving Trevor the option of doing much more.  After one last look of despair at Iris, he left the room.  William shut the door in his face, knowing he would try to eavesdrop anyway.  That’s why he enlisted Chris and John to distract him.

William looked at Iris, his expression softening as he noticed her tears.  “Talk to me, Iris.  Whenever you’re ready…but you need to talk.”

That night, after Iris had calmed down, gone home, and spoken to Ryder on the phone for an hour (who was in Manhattan, of course), Iris had driven the few kilometres to Trevor’s house.  He had texted earlier begging her to come over to resolve things, and she had agreed, if only to get clarification from him and to make sure something like that never happened again.  She still had no idea how to feel about what had transpired, and didn’t know if she would ever get over it.  

When she knocked on his door, he answered it in record time.  “Hey baby,” he said, trying to hug her after he closed the door.

She backed away from him.  She had to, despite the hurt look on his face.  “Trevor…I can’t.  Not right now.”

“Baby --”

“Don’t – don’t call me…” Iris shook her head, maintaining her composure.  “Trevor, what the fuck happened today?”

“Listen…I don’t know.  She’s fucking crazy, okay?  She’s nuts.  She thought I was cheating on her with you the entire time we were together.”

“She wouldn’t be wrong…”

“She is wrong,” Trevor declared.  “We made love once, when Tessa and I were broken up.  That’s not cheating.”

“Okay, so only I cheated then,” she made the distinction, rolling her eyes.  “Good job reminding me about the fact that I cheated on my fiancé six weeks after we got engaged.”

“Iris – no – stop,” Trevor tried intervening.  “This has nothing to do with you and everything to do with her, okay?  Listen, we were together, but our relationship was flawed.  It wasn’t like I was the only one doing stuff wrong.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that she would be just as bad as I could be sometimes.  She would taunt me.  She’d send me pictures of her hanging out with other guys while we were on breaks.  She’d fucking…fuck!” he swore in frustration.

“You know, the immaturity of both of you is really something else,” Iris shook her head.  “I can’t believe how much you two would hurt each other yet continue to get back together despite it all.”

Trevor knew she was right.  He and Tessa hurt each other a lot.  It was what they did.  But now, Tessa had taken it one step further and hurt not just him, but somebody he loved.  In front of other people he loved.  And he wasn’t going to stand for that.  “Listen…I’m really sorry about what happened today.  I feel like everything is my fault.”

“Does she know?” Iris asked suddenly.

“What?”

“Does Tessa know?”

“Absolutely not.”

Iris took a deep breath in.  “Listen…Trevor…I had to tell William Regal why she barged into the PC and did that.”

“You told William Regal?”

“No!” Iris exclaimed.  “I…explained our friendship.  And I told him about how far back we go, and how that’s probably why she thought what she did.  And he believed me.”

“Why are you telling me this as if it’s bad?  It means everything is good…doesn’t it?”

“It means I had to lie to my boss, Trevor,” Iris said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.  “That’s not exactly something I’m proud of doing.  And you!  You made yourself look like the bad guy out there in front of everyone.”

“So?  I can handle it,” he shrugged his shoulders.  “Everybody’s gonna forget about it in a week anyway.  And besides, you didn’t exactly look like the bad person.  Tessa’s reputation is shot forever.”

Iris took another deep breath as she considered everything.  “Trevor…I don’t know what to do.  I don’t know what to do.”

“Everything’s gonna be okay, baby,” Trevor said, and for the first time that night, Iris didn’t object at the name.  “You’re my best friend, Iris.  You know that.  That isn’t ever going to change.”

“I just want to make sure something like that never happens again.  It was…traumatizing to say the least.”

“It won’t, baby.  I’ll make sure of it,” Trevor assured her, extending his arms to hug her.  Though she approached slowly, Trevor was grateful that she went into his arms and hugged him back.  He held her close against his body.  “I love you, baby.  Everything’s gonna be fine.”

Iris had two voicemails waiting for her when she left Trevor’s place.  When she was out of sight from his place, she pulled over and played them aloud on speaker phone.

“Hey honey, it’s me,” Ryder’s deep voice said.  “Just want to make sure everything is good with you.  I know you said you had a stressful day at work but I want to make sure there wasn’t anything else.  Anyway, you can call me whenever.  Um, anytime after maybe like, 9:30, actually.  We’re taking a client out to dinner at Bone and it may go long.  So anytime after 9:30.  I can’t wait until you’re here next weekend.  We’re going to have so much fun.  Bye.”

She pressed seven to delete it.  

New message.

“Hey, it’s Dustin.  Trevor kinda updated me on what happened today and I figured that’s why you called to ask me what you did.  Um, I didn’t tell him you called me, by the way.  And I’m not letting him know I’m calling you now.  Anyway…I uh…I don’t know, Iris.  I’m really sorry that happened to you.  It’s horrible that she came to your work and did that.  She’s nuts.  But that’s not the issue here.  You and Trevor gotta stop hurting each other.  I know you’re engaged and all and Ryder seems to be a nice dude, but for the love of fuck, you and Trev have been playing this game for almost 4 years now and it’s tiring.  You guys…you guys just need to stop hurting each other, okay?  You’re both my friends and I don’t like seeing my friends get hurt, especially over something that can be fixed in about ten minutes with a conversation.  I don’t like seeing you two pining over each other and the fact that you’ve been doing this for years is getting exhausting.  I know it’s getting exhausting for me.  Just stop hurting each other.  You both deserve the world and --”

End of message!  To replay this message, press three.  To erase this message, press seven; to save it, press nine.

Through the tears that had welled up in her eyes, Iris pressed nine.  

@wrestlewriting @wrasslin-x @thegenericluchadora @thewriterformerlytaggedas@fan-fiction-galore @anerdysouthernbelle @spot-of-bother @amaranthine-reign@baleesi @flnnbalor @smuppies @sarahmatthews7 @daintymissdevitt@newjapan @corey-renee @running-ropes @balorsomega @karleedaniels27@kazuchika @ileana0300 @alexahood21 @ohcristimhookedonhavocimsodunne@fembxt @heelturn-timesten @kaitlynwwefan @50shadesofadamcolebaybay@50shadesofkennyomega @chasingeverybreakingwave @thyestean-feast @thecandicej @devittsbalor @sp00kylesley @danahart @sietefinns@kaydee-kayyyy @powerbombshell @swedish-strong-style @blondekel77@irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @nickysmum1909 @houndofjustice-imagines @wwesmutdonedirtcheap @wweximaginesxd @indywrestlinglover-life @mandi512 @kakakatey @ourscratcheddreams @sleeplessandcynical @badame124 @thevixeniris @fabulousrockstar @lunatic-sambrose @caramara3 @crossfitjesusinskinnyjeans @krobinj

#ricochet #ricochet fic #ricochet imagine #ricochet fan fic #ricochet fan fiction #ricochet fanfic #ricochet fanfiction #wwe #wwe imagine #wwe fic #wwe fan fic #wwe fan fictio #wwe fanfic #wwe fanfiction #nxt #nxt imagine #nxt fic #itymbm series

[aquarianlights]

The story of how I gave my psych an anxiety attack yesterday....Whoops.

Giving my psychologist an anxiety attack is something I never thought I would be able to cross off on my bucket list because it wasn't on my bucket list but now it is and now it is crossed off.... 😂😂😂😂😂 

"...[huge breath coz I had just said like...a 30 page essay in one breath as fast as humanly possible, jumping back and forth from topic to topic, but staying on track with the main point and tying it all together at the end] AND, in conclusion, that's basically how I'm gonna fix everything." [smiles] My psych is literally not breathing at this point, looking at me over his glasses, tousled mousy brown hair falling into his eyes as his jaw hangs slightly ajar and he is just speechless for a second.

"....Drew. Drew? Dreeeeeew. HEELLOOOO?" Literally get up off my chair and start waving my hands in front of his face. "LEONARD!!!!" Snapping fingers at him.

He blinks and looks up at me and literally just grabs my shoulders and gets up and sits me down on the other, larger couch and he sits---more like collapses---down beside me... and is like "We need to do some deep breathing exercises."

"You know I don't d-"

"Not for you, Kills. For me. For me. Just LISTENING to all of that is giving me anxiety. I feel like I need to breathe into a paper bag. Oh my god. Just...just hold on. Wow." I start snickering. He holds up a finger sharply. "You be quiet, you tiny little blonde ball of chaos." I purse my lips as he breathes a little bit and then opens his eyes and goes back to his chair and swivels around to look at me and goes "Okay. So. I KNOW that you know that I and every other doctor and psych and just about every human being on this PLANET knows that you have the most drive and...damn, EVERYTHING I have ever seen from a human being. I'm sure you've been told this. About how driven and passionate you are?" "I literally just had a back to back rheumatology and chronic pain appointment and they both said they wish they could book me to quote on quote preach to their chronic pain sufferers because 99% of them won't fight against their illnesses and just give up and won't do physical therapy at all or decide it's not worth it for this reason or that and they say that my passion and drive and my energy on stage would probably motivate them to get off their asses and do something to get REAL RESULTS like I have gotten. LIKE LIKE LIKE" I roll up my sleeve as much as I can, jumping up off the couch. "I lost 20lbs and gained 10lbs of muscle in about a month or so with just pure physical therapy and now I can do things I've never been able to do in my WHOLE LIFE!" My psych is back to just staring at me, only just barely breathing. I had my hands raised in a hallelujah position and was practically about to do some parkour tricks on the couches but the bottom ligaments in my spine are so slightly out alignment that if I make one wrong move, it could permanently paralyze me in some way or at least trigger some bad scoliosis. So I restrain myself and clench my fists and bring them down in front of me, bouncing on my heels. "Drew? DREEEEEEEEEEEW? YOU'RE DOING IT AGAINNNNN!" He does this all the time with me coz, as with p much every since psych I ever see (psychiatrist, psychologist, therapist, counselor, and all inbetween alike), I am always their "most interesting patient. And on top of that, I either turn out to be their "least favourite" patient (the patient from hell) or their most favourite patient (the "can I put you in a trial please or at least have one of my colleagues come sit in on a session?" patient). I'm the latter with him and he loves me to death because I make him laugh constantly throughout the sessions we have.... and since coping skills don't work for me, I make up my own and they are usually fucking hilarious and he finds them hilarious, too. We have a lot of fun and he always wishes we could have more time because I'm like... the thing he looks forward to in his days (his words, not mine) and it makes me laugh because sessions with him are things I look forward to. BUT WHEN I GO OUT OF CONTROL OR SAY SOMETHING TOTALLY RIDICULOUS, HE DOES THIS THING WHERE HE PUTS ON A REALLY MOCK-DRAMATIC LOOK AND LOOKS AT ME OVER HIS GLASSES WITH BROWS RAISED, BUT FURROWED...AND LEANING BACK IN HIS CHAIR AND RAISING HIS ARMS IN THE "WHYYYY" OR "NOOO" POSITION AND JUST LOOKING AT ME TOTALLY AGHAST SO I THOUGHT THAT'S WHAT WAS GOING ON COZ I CAN'T READ PEOPLE AT ALL. But no. He was legitimately having an inward, controlled anxiety attack. He goes "Killian. I went through medical school. Do you understand that? You KNOW what medical school entails. I know you know it because YOU'RE LIVING IT..." Taking a deep breath and laughs shakily. "Fuck, Kills. You uh... Your thoughts are way too fast for your mouth so you're definitely going into the right field, I'm sure you've heard that. I really hope you go into trauma. You'd love that, I'm sure, with the bloodlust you have and the quick pace and high pressure and high stress you need. I KNOW nothing can be slow for you but......" Another REALLY deep breath, this time eyes closed. When his eyes opened, he was very serious with me and we NEVER get serious. It's always comical in SOME way. The serious things are even comical because I'm just.... "that guy" who is pure puns and finger guns and all fun, y'know. He goes, "My point is, medical school entails the stress you never imagine you can handle... But what you're taking on right now? ALL the things you just listed off---and I know that's just the major things and that there are plenty of little things that you didn't mention in your ...rant...---are too much for even ME to handle. Are too much for a PROFESSIONAL to handle." Me: "But...I'm handling it like a boss ass bitch. I've got all of this under wraps and like I said, as soon as everyone else falls into line and does their parts, which they all obviously are needing my help on since they're all either coming to me or are lost without me, then all of my problems will be cleared up because I just now cleared up all of my major stressors." Then I go into rant mode and get excited, forgetting that my psych is already on the verge of an anxiety attack. Basically ranting about "BECAUSE YOU SEE I DID, X, X, AND X AND Y, Y, AND Y HAPPENED BECAUSE OF MY TAKING INITIATIVE WITH Z, Z, AND Z AND EVERYTHING IS FALLING RIGHT INTO PLACE DUE TO MY EXCELLENCE except like, you know, this chronic pain thing is a bitch, BUT I'M HANDLING THAT TOO BECAUSE I GOT ANOTHER MAJOR ANSWER I NEEDED and now I just need to follow through with that on Monday and then ALL IS WELL IN THE WORLD AND-" Total tangent mode, full on pacing his office, jumping on the couches like a fox, waving my hands, playing with my hair, laughing, spinning coz I'm excited and proud at how well I'm doing and suddenly.... I turn around.... My psych is literally face down on the floor, planking position, just... total defeat, slid out of his chair onto the floor kinda, RIP Drew. Lmao. I stopped mid-sentence and dropped my hands to my side and cocked my head like a puppy and blinked twice and approached him and slid down into a sitting position on top of my legs....and put my fingers on his neck to take his pulse. When I hear a grunt of "I'm not dead, I'm just taking a break from hurricane Killian, who is a category 10." I purse my lips and snicker. "I was born and raised in Florida. There's no such thing as a cate-" "KILLIAAAAAAANNNNNNNNN I AM GOING TO WALK OUT OF THIS OFFICE WITH MY ENTIRE HEAD OF BEAUTIFUL, LUSCIOUS FULL HEAD OF HAIR BALDING AND GREY. BE QUIET, LITTLE BALL OF CHAOS." I snicker a little more and start poking him. "Hey. Hey, Drew. Drew. We're wasting time. OH There was a breakthrough in neuroscience about mapping the active distraction versus passive distraction part of the brain so let's just induce some active distraction of our own since we don't have anything in pills to do that yet or anytime soon. That meaaaaaaaaaaans....." [long groan from Drew] "GAME TIME!!!!" Drew pushes himself up off the floor and sits cross legged opposite me and takes my face in his hands and goes, "No. You listen to me. I am naming you Kill Switch both in hopes that it will somehow slow you the fuck down and because your mind and your words and you, yourself move so fast and have so much energy and so much drive that you just shut everyone else down around you because no one can keep up. Hell, /I/ can barely keep up. Not bragging, but I can keep up with almost anything. That being said..." He literally squishes my cheeks together and gets up close and personal and I'm trying to suppress laughter at this point and trying not to grab his wrists to pry him off of me coz he was in serious mode now and I am almost never serious anymore unless I'm being a drama whore and having a bad day and need attention and writing about it everywhere in rants about what bad, awful thing happened and how I need everyone's support and way more attention than usual (which isn't a lie, but it's still just me being a drama whore) AND HE KNOWS THIS....but when we first met, he DID say "Under all the jokes and puns and that...that thing you do [finger guns] and all the running around and smiling and laughing... You seriously have some intense pain. I mean, I have never felt that kinda pain radiating off of someone before. You're coming back to see me again, right?" I played it off like it was nothing, but then went out to my car and cried coz he couldn't be more right and no one knows or notices that all of that is just a facade for the pain. (Or if they do notice, which is highly unlikely, then they definitely don't care.) He squished my cheeks together and got up close and person and practically put his forehead against mine so that our eyes were literally locked and I COULD NOT look away even if I wanted to. That's the first time I noticed his eyes were green. He spoke very quietly, which is not in EITHER of our nature. We are both very loud and very up-front, blunt, confident, pretty ridiculous people. The loud part is important because he was speaking quietly which never happens. If I speak quietly? Run. So that's when I stopped laughing...and also WHY I stopped laughing and swallowed instead and looked him in the eyes and DID NOT blink. "The amount of things you are taking on right now... in addition to everything else... is a cocktail for being institutionalized. Or, at the BARE minimum, hospitalization." He paused for a moment to let me take that in, because we both knew the implication of it. The last ward I was in...the psych found out the pattern of my 20+ other institutionalizations and how I was playing the system and my "ward persona" and had a whole report written up that is now in my record stating that all of the times I had been recommended for permanent state ward transferal that had been shot down by my lying and manipulation via the "ward persona" I put on to work the system and get out as quickly as possible... should be dealt with and taken seriously and gone through with the next time I was institutionalized. It's in my record. We've both read the report. We both know the next time I get institutionalized will be my last... I will be sent to a state ward and I will never get out or at least not get out in a very, VERY long time and I will be a hollow shell of the amazing, driven, passionate person with an actually attainable dream I have turned myself into if that were to happen. So I just...took a moment.. and swallowed and averted my gaze and pulled away from him and tried to laugh it off. "Leonard." He hates it when I call him by his full name. I go into my signature pose and smirk at him, eyes glinting with playfulness. "I am a boss as bitch and I am handling all of this better than I handled by entire life. I have learned and implemented more actually healthy coping mechanisms in the past...almost a year now... than I have ever even tried in my 8 years in therapy and pretty much LIVING in and out psych wards. I've got this. You know I've got this. And even if YOU don't know I've got this... /I/ know I've got this. And as long as I have faith in myself, I am unstoppable." I raise my arms like I am the christian/catholic god him or herself and look up to the sky, close my eyes and smile, then back down to him, eyes open, locked, focused, driven, and dazzling with utter passion as the most genuine and sadistic of smiles crosses my lips. Drew sighs, cups his chin in one hand and leans his arm on his knee, both of us still on the floor, and he smiles back, the warmth of it spreading even into his eyes. I lower my arms and cross them and shrug. "All that matters is what I think and as long as I'm pragmatic about it, it's all uphill from here." Drew just shakes his head, eyes closed now, but warm smile spreading wider on his face before he starts chuckling and looks at me again, tears at the corners of his eyes. "You are like the one roller coaster ride that every kid wants to ride when they're little but are too scared to do it but get dared to by their friends and they all end up riding it anyways and all of them end up practically traumatized from the fear of it until they get off and wander back out into the park and catch their breath. ....and then they turn to each other and suddenly all scream at once that they wanna ride it again and run right back into the line for the same terrifying roller coaster that just almost traumatized them permanently." "You always have the worst metaphors, you know that?" He starts laughing. "And you gave me a literal anxiety attack and I'm guessing you didn't even know it until just now so I get a free pass on my horrible metaphors." He pulls himself up and then helps me up off the ground and I fall back into the couch and he collapses back into the chair. We're silent for a sec which is VERY rare. Then I look at him and go "Did I SERIOUSLY give you an anxiety attack?" He didn't even hesitate. "YES!!!!!" practically pulling himself out of the chair, laughing, but being totally serious. I purse my lips. ".....yikes." Another rare pause as he settles himself back into his chair and sighs, shaking his head. "What exactly did I do to give you an anxiety attack?" He stares at me in disbelief. "...Well, I guess this guy that diagnosed you as a sociopath was pretty spot on." He smiles at me and thinks for a second, holding up one finger. I hate it when he pauses to think because everything comes so quickly for me and I pause for nothing and when things are slow and/or stagnant, I feel this weird bubbly feeling in my chest and my throat feels like it is closing up and everything gets hot and I start clawing at myself and it's really awful because NO ONE is ever going as fast as me in mind, body, and DEFINITELY not as articulately as I do with my words when I go into rant/tirade/monologue/speech mode. No one can EVER keep up with me.... ever. "Killian. I'm gonna give you some resources on anxiety coz I know you have been asking for them and I managed to compile some and now I see you REALLY need them coz I know you HAVE the ability to comprehend it, but you're going to need a lot of help to do so. I see you putting in the effort every session that we talk about it... but you're still not grasping it. So I've compiled some more, uh...easy-to-learn resources for you on it." He reaches in his drawer with papers and sticky notes and hands it to me. I skim through it while he says; "Oh, and by the way? All of the things you listed? All the things you're taking on? All of those leadership roles you're playing right now in your personal, professional, and every other life you have...? All the... Okay, I can't. I cannot go over all the things because I'm going to stress MYSELF out. So..." I look up from the papers. "THAT is what gave me an anxiety attack. Luckily, I can easily control mine, but I am exhausted just by LISTENING to everything you're doing right now. I don't know how you're still standing alert and energetic and driven and passionate after all the times you've been knocked down so far....and after everything you've gone through... and with ALL of these things you're taking on? You need to............ you need to do EXACTLY what your physical therapist said, only for your MIND, not just your body and..." "...no..." "Slow..." "...don't..." "...DOWN..." "...GOD FUCKING DAMNIT, DREW. IS2G, I'M GONNA-" And that's possibly the most serious therapy session I have had in a long time and it was also possible the hardest in a long time. And I crossed a thing off my bucket lisst that I didn't know was on my bucket list and didn't even want to be on my bucket list. There is the story of how I gave my psych an anxiety attack. ***Story is obvs not verbatim because I do not have an eidetic memory. But this is p much exactly what happened and I’m not exaggerating in the slightest because we are both VERY dramatic people...which is probably why we get along so well....Lmao.

#personal #psych #psychology #psych session #therapy #therapy session #anxiety attack #mental disorders #psych issues #idk what else to tag #tell me if you need anything else tagged and i gotchu fam

[concussed-to-pieces]

As Usual

Fandom: WWE

Pairing: Baron Corbin/Unnamed OFC

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Business!Baron, what's not to love? Tagging our usual suspects of @tox-moxley and @oraclegazes, as well as the head of the Baron's Bitches Pack, @writergrrrl29 and but of course it would not be Thirst Party Saturday without our Steerforth, @hardcorewwetrash! Enjoy!

Baron Corbin didn't like to think of himself as boring. Sure, he worked in an office, and yeah, he wasn't exactly at the head of the excitement parade, but boring? He and his girlfriend worked long days, wasn't much they could do when they got off of their respective shifts. Normally once Baron escaped his soul-sucking cubicle and fought through the traffic to get home he was more than ready to throw on some sweatpants, cuddle with his already-sleeping girl and conk the fuck out until six the next morning  when he had to wake up and do it all over again.

“Dude, face it. You're the most boring guy I know. Boring Corbin.” Jack snorted, leaning over Baron's cubicle. “You come here early, you work late because everyone else is slacking off...obviously you have no life if you're willing to devote that kind of time consistently to your job.”

“I don't recall asking, Swagger.” Corbin drawled, turning his chair around to give the tall blond a long-suffering look. “Speaking of me working while everyone else is slacking off, shouldn't you be making copies or something?”

“Fair enough.” Jack held up his hands in surrender. “Look I'm only thaying...saying something because I'm worried, alright? You're one of the few people I can actually joke with around here and you've been burning the candle at both ends for so long, man.” Baron grimaced. Jack, seeming to sense his weakness, carried on eagerly. “You don't take sick days, you don't take vacations. What the hell do you do for fun?”

“I definitely do take vacations, I took one last...” Baron paused, doing the mental math. “...two years ago.”

“Oh whoop-dee-do, the two days you took off for that concert. What, did you have fun and hate every second of it?” Jack needled, making Corbin laugh a little ruefully.

“Far from it, man. I could barely peel myself out of bed afterwards, even with the extra day off. Hell of a time in the pit, you know how it is.”

“So what's the deal, man? Take a day off. Call in thick. Fucking...sick.” Jack tended to speak slowly. When he got excited his lisp flared up more often, which seemed to frustrate him. “Take your girl on vacation. I'm sure she could use a break too. From what you've told me she's just as crazy as you are.”

“You're not wrong there.” The long hours she was spending in her own office came to mind and Corbin's brow furrowed. “I'll think about it, Swagger.”

Jack looked relieved, leaning over the cubicle to whack a large hand down on Baron's shoulder. “You're a good man, Charlie Brown.”

Baron snorted, waving him off and returning to his work. He couldn't seem to focus though, his thoughts drifting to his girlfriend. Today was her one day off a week. Hope she's doing something fun and not working from home again. Her boss was so hard on her. Baron knew he was lucky because he answered to a variety of individuals and he was up there on the authority ladder. His girlfriend's office was arranged a little differently where everyone only answered to one man, and he didn't seem the lenient sort.

I'll call her on my lunch break. Baron decided. Excitement flooded him, the feeling foreign. God, it had been a while since he'd relaxed. We're going to get away. A few days, a week. Something like that. Maybe go someplace new. Anything. I’m so tired of this, Baron realized. Working and working and working because I don’t think I have any other options. Well, not anymore! He shoved his chair back from his desk, got to his feet and headed for HR. A good starting point would be finding out how much leeway he had. Plus, it wasn’t like he couldn’t manage his workload for the day.

…

Baron was in a daze after finishing with Bayley in HR. Apparently he’d accrued over two months of vacation time, and since he’d never opted into the program of having them take eighty hours of it and put it into his check every New Years it had kind of just…sat there, not doing anything.

Miscommunication on his part, no doubt. Bayley’s sunshine-y attitude could be exhausting on a good day, so he tended to avoid HR like the plague and he usually deleted the emails without reading them. He wasn’t an “Ice Cream Social” or “Ugly Sweater Party” kind of guy. But the distress on Bayley’s face when she realized he was uninformed on their vacation time policy made him feel…just a little guilty. Maybe Baron would humor her more in the future. Once he’d recovered from the information overload of I have free time holy shit I have free time.

Corbin sat down heavily in his office chair, leafing through the packet Bayley had printed off for him. Yeah, he definitely needed to start paying attention to those emails. Most of this information was stuff he’d never seen before. Of course, he’d started working here back when Vickie was in charge of HR. Baron still couldn’t help his cringe whenever anyone said, “excuse me!” near him. He’d never been more eager to escape from an orientation in his life.

The excitement he’d felt before going to HR was multiplying. Baron could hardly believe this. Now all he would need to do is figure out when his girlfriend would be able to get time off as well. They could go camping, maybe see a concert! Or visit Florida, she loved warm places. What about an island? Bermuda? Hawaii? His mind ran rampant, ideas quickly filling his memo pad. How's that for boring, huh? If Baron was being honest he barely cared what they did, as long as he did it with her. She had been down for a while as much as she denied it, and Baron had been at his wit’s end for a solution. But here, here it was, staring him in the face. A vacation, a real one, with hotel rooms, phones turned off and shit like that. It was foolproof.

Instead of eating his lunch in his cubicle like he usually did, Baron picked up his bag and headed for the elevator. He’d call her on his lunch break and hopefully get a little input. Upon sliding his phone out of his pocket though, he was confused to see that he’d missed a call from her at some point. There were the usual texts from her in the morning, hey Beast, hope work is going okay. You left even earlier today, I hope everything is alright. Baron winced. Then came the funny ones, Sasha and I have decided we’re killing Enzo and dumping his body in the river. Oh whoops, I think that counts as premeditated. You won’t tell, right Beast?

She’d left a voicemail when she called, she never did that. It must be important. Corbin worriedly pressed the phone to his ear, hitting the elevator button for the street level.

“--miss you, Beast...” The message began in the middle of a sentence, a gasping plea following her usage of the teasing pet name she'd given him. Baron’s mouth went dry. There was a quiet whimper, rustling, a low, static buzz that settled in Baron’s bones like fucking liquid heat. He was pretty sure his face was neon. This was…

This was something new.

“God I wish you could touch me like this more.” Her voice was breathless, “Baron please, please, I need you-”

Baron had all but forgotten he was in an elevator, jumping when the doors rolled open. He hastily scrambled across the foyer and burst through the doors to the parking lot, phone still vised to his ear via his shoulder. He felt clumsy, like he was in a dream, loosening his tie as he walked to his car and unlocked it.

She wasn’t talking anymore, just softly moaning and it was way more arousing than it should have been to hear the quiet buzzing in the background. He knew exactly what she was fucking doing to herself. She was always so sensitive when it came to him touching her, squirming underneath his mouth or hands, and it had been a thousand times more intense when he'd used the wand on her. She'd come fucking screaming his name, her nails cutting into the skin on his shoulders and drawing blood. It had been one of the hottest things Baron had ever experienced, watching her lose control, coaxing multiple orgasms out of her with the toy and his body working in sync.

That was a distant (if incredibly pleasant) memory, though. They hadn’t had sex in almost a month, their schedules too chaotic and both of them exhausted when they were together. They slept in the same bed every night, sometimes they showered together in the morning. Slow, sleepy kisses in between yawns underneath the too-cool-to-be-comfortable shower spray, husky mumbles of “how’d you sleep?” over cups of coffee.

It was the little things that had kept them going even after the exciting newness of the relationship had worn off, Corbin was sure. She’d slip notes into his bag when she made their lunches (made your favorite, for my favorite Beast!) and he always made sure there was enough hazelnut coffee in the morning for her to fill her travel mug for work. On Baron’s one day off a week, if they needed it, he would go out and get groceries, do laundry. He was still abysmal at folding shirts so they wouldn’t wrinkle, but for her it seemed to be the thought that counted. On her one day off a week she would give the house a once-over, maybe change the sheets. Baron always felt the need to apologize for his shedding, although she said she liked his hair long because it was easier--

Baron shook himself. Shit, he’d almost started stroking his cock over his pants. Easy boy. This was a treat, definitely. One that he wasn’t going to waste on a fucking parking lot. Corbin took a deep breath to steady himself and then saved the message.

A couple more breaths, inhale, exhale.

Her call had been preceded by a text that was just a jumble of letters, like she’d laid on her phone. It had been accidental.

Baron didn’t know what the hell to do with that information. Should he delete the message? It wasn’t something she’d intended for him to hear. But it sounded amazing. He decided, after a few more deep breaths, that calling her back was the best course of action. If she brought it up…

Well, he’d burn that bridge when he got to it.

“Hi Beast! How’s work?” She seemed okay. Cars in the background. She was probably working in her little garden. Baron wanted to be suspicious, but the mental image of her with dirt smudged on her nose sparked that weird domestic part of him and he found himself relaxing.

“It’s pretty good, honestly. I um, I talked with HR, baby girl. I have a lot of vacation time saved up and I was just…well, I was wondering if you’d like to do something?” Corbin wasn’t sure why the hell he was having such a hard time being articulate. “You wanna’ go on a trip with me?”

“Really?!” She sounded thrilled. It lit a fire in Baron’s stomach and he only barely kept from fucking growling in satisfaction. “That’s--I mean yeah! Absolutely! Where do you think we should go? When?”

“I know you like the warm places. I was thinking maybe...Bermuda, something like that.” Baron paused. “I’m tired of not seeing you, or only getting to hold you when you’re asleep. I miss you, baby girl.” He didn't mean for it to sound so fucking mushy, what the hell was wrong with him?

“I was just thinking about you earlier. I worry about you. You work too hard, Baron.”

Baron barely kept from saying you’d better have been thinking about me earlier, biting his lip. “I know baby. I’m finally going to have some time off, though. This means you do as well. Pot, kettle.”

She laughed. “I was that obvious, huh? It’s been tough at work. I’ve needed this day off like you wouldn’t believe. Wow, a real vacation though! I can’t wait to get everything all planned. Are you excited?”

“You bet your ass. I love…spending time with you, baby girl.” Shit, shit. They’d been dating for over a year but they had yet to say the words that everyone put such gravity on. It was simpler that way. She’d moved in with him six months ago when he’d offered. That was like saying it without having to, right? He was just…leery of fucking everything up with his big mouth.

Even with all the time they spent apart she was the best part of his day. God forbid he say those words and have shit go sideways.

It was simpler that way. I'm already her Beast. It's enough.

She didn’t have to know that he loved her, didn’t have to know about all the times he said it quietly when she was asleep. It hurt less when he did that, breathed it into her hair while she curled up in his arms like she would be his forever. It's simpler that way, he told himself. Hurts less that way. God, he was too sentimental.

She’d gone quiet and Baron became nervous. “You okay, baby girl?” She knows, I’m so fucked.

“I’m thinking, Beast! Just…all the stuff we can do! Anything, everything!” She practically exploded, making him laugh in relief. “I’m so excited I could scream, I can’t wait until you get home tonight! I’m--I’m gonna’ stay up late so I can see you and we can plan stuff out!” She made a squealing noise and Baron grinned.

“Alright baby girl. What time do you need to work tomorrow? I’ll see if I can get out a bit earlier tonight.” Like maybe on fucking time at five, instead of at nine because everyone else is slacking off.

“Fuck what time I work tomorrow! You’re threatening me with a vacation!”

Baron was reminded all over again of why he was hopelessly, ridiculously in love.

…

Swagger of all people offered to finish his work for him so Baron could leave at four. “I’m just glad you listened to me, man.” Jack had said with his usual whack on the shoulder. “Go make her happy, tiger.”

Baron was home by five, the traffic a bit more manageable at this hour. She actually met him at his car, bounding to her feet from her spot in the dirt out front. Shortly after she'd moved in with him she had hesitantly asked about the bare 'problem' patch practically in the middle of the lawn. Baron had willingly handed it over. Shit, he scolded her for asking. “What’s mine is yours, baby girl.” There, she had started her little garden, which was jam-packed with a variety of flowers he couldn't remember the names of and bordered with hosta. He only remembered the hosta because she made a point to tell him it was the 'wolverine' variety. “It's the best there is at what it does, Beast.” She had said with a big goofy grin. Baron recalled rumpling her hair and affectionately referring to her as his 'fucking nerd'.

That naked area had been there since before he’d bought this house, a ‘fixer-upper special’. He had more important things to worry about than proper grass coverage, like the pipes that leaked in the basement or the faulty wiring in the kitchen. After a particularly exciting microwave experience, he’d taken to YouTube and managed to fix the wiring himself. He’d thought the smell of burnt plastic would never leave him, but a few bracing shots of whiskey had finally put it to rest.

He ended up calling a professional for the leaky pipes. No sense in flooding his basement on top of nearly electrocuting himself.

She poked her upper body through the window of his car before he could even cut the engine, wrapping her arms around his neck as best as she could. “Mm, hey baby girl.” Baron mumbled contentedly into her chest. It had been ages since he’d seen her awake, really awake. He had missed it more than he thought he would.

“I missed you.” She said, kissing his forehead and smiling down at him. “How did you get out so early? The sun's still up! I guess I have to rethink my suspicion that you're secretly a vampire instead of a prince in disguise, huh?”

“Swagger practically threw me out, said I needed to get the hell home.” Baron laughed, giving her a gentle push back so he could actually roll up the window and open the car door. “So let’s make some sandwiches for dinner, then I can sit on the steps while you do your plant thing.”

She nodded rapidly, moving in for another hug and then squeaking in surprise when Baron hefted her up in his arms. “H-Hey!”

“Shh, I haven’t carried you in ages.” Corbin nuzzled his nose against hers, making her giggle. “What’d you do today, baby girl? Anything fun?” Baron only just kept from snickering when she went bright red.

“Nope! I mean, just uh, picked up, gardening stuff. Boring stuff. You wouldn’t be interested.”

Boring? “Mm, I dunno’ about all that.” Baron couldn’t help the way his voice dropped lower. “You sure I wouldn’t be interested, baby girl?”

He’d listened to the full message she’d left on his ride home, slacking the fabric of his tie when he couldn’t take it strangling his throat anymore. God, the way that she sounded had him growling and tightening his grip on the steering wheel, more than eager to get back home. But just because she’d been in the mood earlier didn’t mean she was in the mood now. If anything, because of how sensitive she was she might not be able to handle him at this point.

So Baron waited, luxuriating in the way that she stammered and fluttered her hands over his shirt and suit coat while he shouldered open the front door. Felt like it had been forever since she’d touched him. “I’m hungry, baby girl.” He said quietly, interrupting her half-words.

“Baron I can’t make sandwiches unless-”

“Mm, not for food.” Today was just a growling kind of day, apparently. “I’ve missed you, baby girl. Do you have any idea what your little voicemail did to me for the rest of the day?”

“Voicemail?” She looked confused.

Baron was going to fucking die. He kissed her forehead and set her down on her feet, patting her ass as an afterthought. She yelped, swatting his arm. “Baby girl, baby girl.” Corbin cupped her jaw, thumbs stroking her soft skin. “You left me a surprise. A teasing, wonderful fucking surprise. I haven’t been able to focus for most of the day, all I could think about was you fucking yourself and begging for me.”

“Oh no, no I didn’t--” Her face heated beneath his hands. “I couldn’t have.”

“Check your call log, baby girl, because you definitely did.” Baron affirmed, grinning. “I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting you. Our schedules have just been so hectic…”

“I didn’t want to ask because I know you’ve been working hard.” Her voice was small. “I can take care of myself.”

Baron’s smile faded. “Baby girl, I don’t work harder than you. You have needs just like I do, and as your boyfriend it’s kind of part of my job to try and help take care of them. Because I--“ He paused. “I uh. I...you being happy means a lot to me.”

“I know that, you know? I think the guilt is just hardwired in. I really...a voicemail?” She covered her face with her hands when he nodded, groaning. “How embarrassing. Did I say something dumb? Oh God I bet I did, shit--”

“You kept begging for me to touch you.” Just thinking about her voice cracking with need was enough to get Corbin’s motor running all over again. “I’ve never heard you beg like that before, baby girl.”

She made another distressed noise, peeking out from between her fingers up at him. “I…”

Baron knew he was definitely treading on thin ice here, advancing on her and making her back up until she hit the kitchen counter. He trapped her with an arm on either side, resting his hands on the counter and knocking his forehead gently against her own. She refused to make eye contact, staring at his chest like she was trying to burn a hole through his dress shirt. “Baby girl I loved it. Please don't be embarrassed.” Corbin begged. “I'll delete the message, I just-” His hands clenched into fists. “Fuck, I need to know whether you want more. I need you to tell me whether you want more. Please.”

“I...” She looked like she was going to cry and Baron couldn't fucking handle that, wrapping her in a fierce hug and burying his face in her hair.

“I'm sorry, shit, I'm sorry, baby girl I-” Her fingers tugged at his phone in his pocket and Baron flinched back, startled. “Baby?”

“Let me hear the message.” It wasn't a suggestion.

Baron fought with the phone for a second, the thick rubber casing preventing him from easily getting it out of his pocket. He unlocked it and then handed it over wordlessly.

“Voicemail password.” She said after a second of holding the phone to her ear. Baron, once again, cursed himself for being so fucking incredibly sentimental. It killed him to admit it, even to her. He mumbled out the date that they had met and was greeted with a soft smile. Then, her eyes went wide and she quickly pulled the phone away from her ear. “Yeah okay, yikes. That's me alright.”

“Toldja'.” Baron said weakly.

“I jacked the thing up to high and it made me fucking spasm. I'm not as good with it as you are yet. Have to get the hang of it.” She said. Baron noticed her press her thighs together.

“Do you...” Corbin swallowed. “Do you want more? Was earlier not enough, baby girl?”

“I don't want to be greedy, Baron.” She huffed in reply.

Corbin had officially had enough, scooping her up and sitting her on the counter. “If you want more, you get more. Simple as that.” One large hand cupped her mound over her leggings and he felt the heat of her core even through the material. “Christ, baby girl.”

“So I...might not have come earlier.” She admitted after a few breathless seconds of Baron stroking her lightly through the fabric. “I tried, but I'm...I'm not as good as you yet and then I was just all numb but too sensitive to try anymore, so--”

“Baby girl.” Baron snarled, settling in between her legs. “That's not fucking acceptable. Do you hear me? Not. Fucking. Acceptable.” Her fingers dug into his hair, pulling out the elastic and tossing it aside. Baron's growl was inevitable when she started running her fingers through his long locks. He always felt more like an animal when he was framed by her thighs with her hands in his hair. Corbin peeled her leggings off, leaving them in a tangled mess around her ankles. She hadn't been kidding about not coming earlier, her panties were fucking soaked through. “Baby girl, Christ, these can't be comfortable.” Baron protested, easing them down her body.

She just whimpered, her grip tightening on his hair and dragging him back down. Her slick had coated her thighs and Baron took his time cleaning it off with his tongue, tender strokes that had her panting and wriggling underneath him while his facial hair tickled her skin.

Boring, huh? I'll show you boring.

He was flooded with satisfaction at her lively response, spreading her cunt open with his fingers. She'd said she was too sensitive to try more with the vibrator. The heat alone of Baron's mouth startled a full-body shiver out of her, the large man gently licking his way across trembling, too-hot skin. He knew he had to be careful but shit, the way she moved made him want to pin her hips to the counter and fucking devour her until she screamed. She always tasted so fucking good. Her pussy spasmed in little pulses underneath his mouth, her arousal coating his chin and facial hair where she bumped against him.

“Is that okay? Too much?” Baron finally asked, making her whine out when he paused his long, flat-tongued caresses.

“No, nonono don't stop Beast please--” She begged, fingers fucking twisting in his hair.

“Baby girl, fuck. Look at you, my little flower opening up for me. God I've fucking missed you.” In their most intimate of moments Baron would usually end up growling animalistic nonsense whether he wanted to or not, unfocused on holding the noises back while he worked her over. “Mine.” The sound she made when he circled his tongue around her clit was one that he hadn't heard in ages and Baron repeated the motion. He was unable to keep from smirking against her when she grabbed his hair and fucking yanked it, pulling him to the side that she preferred him on. “Yeah, put me where you need me baby girl, put me where you fucking need me.” Baron ordered. He loved it when she took control of her own release, loved it when she would manhandle him a bit.

“Baron, m' gonna' come, oh fuck, Baron I can't-” Her hips jerked up against his face and Corbin urged her even closer.

“That's right baby, that's right, come on my tongue, come on my fucking tongue.” He demanded, snarling it against her. “Soak my fucking face baby girl, fucking do it, do it, do it--” Something about his fever-pitch repetition always seemed to do it for her, his words no longer a command but softening to a chant of adoration as he felt her come. “That's right, that's right, Jesus fucking Christ baby girl, that's right.” Corbin crooned, her pelvis rocking lazily back and forth while he ghosted his tongue over her clit in barely-there flicks. “Better than the vibrator? Or could I use some work?” He asked after a few seconds, laughing breathlessly when she gave him an open-handed swat on his cheek. “Ow, yikes baby girl.”

“You're ridiculous. I'm not done with you yet.” She panted, taking a handful of his hair and wrapping it around her palm. “I need you in me.”

Baron grunted when she tried to pull him to a standing position with just his hair. “Easy, easy. You just came, don't you want to-”

“I have been waiting, Beast.” Her voice cracked. “Dealing with all kinds of shit at work, falling asleep before you even get home at night because of how done I am. I shower with you in the mornings and I miss you the whole day but by the time I get home it's all I can do just to unlock the door and-”

Baron fucking rumbled, feeling the noise in his chest as he nodded. “I know, baby girl. We're gonna' take a vacation. I promise. Just you...” He kissed her stomach. “...and me...” Another kiss. “...someplace warm and sunny.”

“P-Please--” There she was again, there was his sweet little flower. Legs falling open on either side of him, begging, welcoming him home.

The rush of affection that hit Baron at the sight threatened to overwhelm him, and-- “I fucking love you.” Baron blurted out before he could stop himself. He froze, feeling her grip on his hair slack off to nothing. No, no God dammit. Baron closed his eyes and dropped his forehead to rest on her stomach, feeling like the world's biggest idiot.

Her hands cupped his jaw.

“M' sorry.” Corbin mumbled against her stomach, mentally bracing himself for the impact.

“Beast...”

“Fuck I'm sorry, I'm sorry, baby girl let me explain, I-” His words clipped off into a confused grunt as she held his mouth shut, one hand beneath his chin and the other on the top of his head as she forced him to look up at her.

Her face was deadly serious. It would have been comical at any other time, her body still shining with sweat and eyes half-lidded from coming. “Did you mean it?”

Baron shut his eyes again, wishing more than anything that he wasn't so fucking sentimental.

“Answer me, Beast.” She released his jaw.

“Yeah.” He muttered after a few shaky breaths. “I did. I meant it. I...I mean it every time I say it, baby girl.”

“Thought so.” She replied simply.

Baron blinked. Thought so?

“I hear you at night sometimes. You thought I didn't know?”

“Well, I-”

“Your voice is kind of deep, Baron. Tends to at least wake me up a little bit.”

“-I thought-”

“Mmhm, I'll bet you did. I bet you thought too much is what you did.” She'd hit the nail on the head there, Baron realized with regret. “You've been all wrapped up in worrying about this and work, haven't you?”

“...yeah.” He admitted quietly. “I didn't-I didn't want to ruin...look, I don't know, some people aren't comfortable with saying that kind of thing and just because I am doesn't mean that you are and--”

“Baron, Baron.” She tugged him up a little, smiling as she pressed her forehead to his own. “My big, strong Beast. Even if you didn't say it out loud, I heard it every time. I hear it when you try to fold my shirts, I hear it when you get my favorite food, I hear it when you hold me after a long day at work and just let me sleep against you instead of making me talk about it. You're the best thing in my life, Beast. I love you, too.”

She was saying it the whole time. Understanding dawned on the large man. Her garden. The little things she's done to the house. Her notes, her texts. “Baby girl, I'm...shit, I'm dumb.”

“Yeah, maybe a little.” Her smile was smug. “But you're very poetic about it. Very...'Dread Pirate Roberts' or 'As You Wish' about it. Makes it more manageable.” She slid his zipper down. “I think you were about to do something for me, yeah?”

“Oh Christ, definitely.” Baron pulled her off the counter and turned her around, her ass slotting into his hips damn near perfectly while he struggled out of his suit coat. “Fuck, hopefully you'll be able to handle this, you need to tell me if you're too sensitive, okay?” Her reply was a haughty look over her shoulder and a wiggle of her hips, making Corbin swear and abandon trying to get his shirt off. “Baby girl, I'm not gonna' hurt you so knock it off with the tough kid shit.”

“I know you're not going to hurt me. I just want you to hurry up. I've been waiting for a little while.”

“Yeah? Waiting for this?” Baron's slacks and boxers got caught around his thighs but he didn't fucking care, palming his shaft and feeling his cock twitch heavily in his hand when she sighed. “I've been waiting all day for you, baby girl, dying to fill you right the fuck up. That what you want?” He knew the answer already but still waited until she nodded rapidly before pressing the head of his cock into her slick entrance. “Yeah, that's what you want, that's what you've been fucking waiting for.”

She arched her back, taking every inch of him as she bent over the counter and whined his name helplessly. Baron felt her cunt clench down on him, the realization that she was already coming knocking the wind out of his lungs. He rested his forehead in the space between her shoulder blades and focused on his breathing for a second, not moving as she bucked on his cock.

“Easy, baby girl, easy.” Baron gasped, realizing after a second that she wasn't planning on slowing down. He quickly wrapped his arms around her stomach, hoisting her just high enough so that her feet couldn't touch the floor. She made a noise of protest that went straight to his cock and Baron groaned, sliding one arm up between her ribs and the hard counter before starting to fuck into her mercilessly. “This what you fucking need, huh? Me just fucking hammering you? Take it then, fucking take it, take it, take it-” He snarled in her ear, his voice low and gravelly. “You're going to come again, baby girl. You're going to come and then I'm going to fill you fucking deep, got it? Beg me for it. Beg me.”

She started chanting his name and pleading, hips rolling as best as she could with her feet fucking dangling in midair, sneakers bumping the cabinets with every move he made. This was what Baron lived for, being bigger and stronger and able to get her off even without her help, better than anyone else ever had.

Boring? Fuck you.

“I love you Baron, God I love you so much.” She choked out, “Missed you, Beast-”

“I missed you too baby girl. I just...” Baron gritted his teeth against the growl that built in his chest to no avail. She fucking quaked at the noise, leaning up and wrapping an arm around his neck. Her fingers desperately grabbed a handful of his hair at the nape of his neck, making Baron keen at the sharp shock of pain. “Baby girl I fuckin'...Christ, I love you, I love you so fuckin' much baby girl--” His words dissolved and he resorted to groaning loud while she came around him. He barely kept from snapping his teeth into the soft skin of her shoulder, shit he hadn't marked her in a fucking month.

“Do it, please, please Beast.” Shaky fingers forced his mouth down into the perfect spot where her neck and shoulder joined. He tongued the area, tasting the salt-sweet of her skin before he sank his teeth in. A claiming bite, not to punish but to remind, more lips and tongue than sharp canines. Her pulse slammed under the surface beneath his mouth, still racing from her orgasm and Corbin snarled, losing his battle with his own release and sheathing himself as deeply as he could before coming. The whole while she kept breathing praises and how much she'd missed him into the side of his neck and Baron wasn't sure if he would be able to keep himself under control, hips twitching much longer than usual.

Boring. Heh. He could tell his voice was shot to shit before he even spoke. “You okay?” He managed to say, swallowing hard. The growling always left him completely shredded.

She nodded, nuzzling her face into his neck and sighing softly. “Tired. I love you.”

Baron felt his stomach twist at her words, unable to keep the dumb smile off his face. “I love you too, baby girl.”

“Mm, carry me to bed. We're officially sick and calling in tomorrow. I'm not fucking done with you yet, Beast.” She said firmly after a minute, making Baron chuckle at how adamant she sounded.

“I think that's a great idea, baby girl. After all, we have a vacation to plan.”

“I forgot, oh my God!” She started squirming in his grip and Baron quickly set her on the floor, giving her hips a worried once-over with his fingers. No bruises from the counter, just a mark where his watch had dug into her skin.

“I'm sorry, I should have--”

“Baron. Did you hear me complaining?”

“Well no, but-”

“Then it obviously didn't bother me. Where did my bag go, where is...” Watching her scramble around the kitchen half-naked was oddly soothing. Baron dragged his pants up and leaned back on the counter, more than content to enjoy the show. She finally located her datebook, opening it and laying it flat on the table. She started pointing to different weeks, going on about how this might work and I'll need Sasha to cover this. Baron just let her talk, busying himself with tugging her hair to the side and kissing up her neck. “Beast, hey, you're supposed to-” Her protest died when his teeth grazed the shell of her ear.

“I know. Tomorrow, okay baby girl? Tonight, though, I think I need to taste you again. If you're...amenable, that is.” Baron smirked into her neck.

“You're really going to call in?”

“If you do, absolutely.”

Her reply was yanking her phone out of her bag and firing off a quick text. “Done.” Her mouth was eager, arms flinging around Baron's neck and fingers tangling his dark hair as they kissed. “Now take me to fucking bed, Beast.” She breathed in between kisses.

“Whatever you want, baby girl.” Baron whispered back.

#Baron Corbin #baron corbin smut #baron corbin x OFC #thirst party saturday #Total PWP #business!Baron #behold all my weaknesses in one post #baron's bitches #for you!

[lovemiamore]

Why?

INVOLVED: Mia Blackwell & Tyler Blackwell. TIME FRAME: Sunday, June 11th, 2017. LOCATION: Mount Sinai Hospital; Miami, Florida. NOTES: Mia ask Tyler why he got shot and demands answers.  

Tyler laid in the hospital bed, eating from the jello cup the nurse had left him as he stared at nothing in particular. Slowly his eyes traveled over to Mia and he held the jello cup and the spoon out, offering some to her.

Mia sat in the chair next to Tyler, she looked to her phone for a moment before she shifted. All of these days of missed work were starting to add up and there had been some demands placed on her but what were she to do? Mia looked up for a second, “no thanks” she said as she shifted in her seat again. Mia rested her elbow on the chairs arm, her hand resting on her aching head. Her head was killing her and her stomach was churning for no reason at all.

Tyler nodded slowly as Mia rejected the jello. Tucking his lips into his mouth he sat both down and just sat there, quiet as a mouse until he asked quietly, “are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay” Mia lied as she ran her hand down her bare face. She sat her phone aside working for causing her head to hurt worse and so were the countless text messages from friends, coworkers, and family alike.

Tyler watched her in silence, shifting his upper body in the bed a little, a small wince passing his lips. His wounds were still healing and his bandages still needed to be changed on the regular because sometimes he would bleed through them.

Mia sat there for a long while, she was quiet for the most part she had two kids, her husband had been shot up, heavy burdens had been placed on her shoulder. She was stressed, not even a little she was stressed a whole lot. She closed her eyes as she rested back in the chair tilting her head to the side, her hands rested over her upset stomach as she just sat there.

Tyler was quiet. Mia was quiet. The room was just quiet. His eyes scanned the room slowly before they settled back on Mia as she rested her hand over her stomach. He just gazed at her, his tired eyes taking her in before he asked. “Are you pregnant?”

Mia opened her eyes looking back to her husband “huh?” she asked him as she licked her lips. “No, it’s all of this stress that has me so sick” she told him as she closed her eyes again before pinching the bridge of her nose.

Tyler pointed to her hand over her stomach before she explained and he nodded. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, and he genuinely meant it. His stupidity had her stressed out and feeling sick. He had never meant for any of this to happen. Since he had woken up, he began to remember things about that night and he knew he should have just turned back to his car when he had the chance but he was stupid and he didn’t and this was the price that he had to pay. He had been shot and almost killed by her ex-husband and now he would probably never walk again.

“Sorry for what Tyler?” Mia asked him as she looked over at him. “For being wheelchair bound for the rest of your life?” she asked angrily. “Or for putting your entire family through this? What the hell were you thinking?” she said nostrils flared. “I thought you had died” she said her voice cracking. “I didn’t know what to fucking think, we have two kids. TWO!” she yelled holding up two fingers in the process. She blinked letting her tears fall and she covered her face with both of her hands before she quickly wiped under her nose and chin with the back of her hand. “I thought you left that shelf shit behind, that life behind. What the fuck were you even doing out there!” she asked him demanding answers.

Tyler gazed at Mia as she began questioning him and yelling at him and he sat there, hands resting in his lap as he looked down. “I did leave that life behind,” he told her softly. “I was trying to tell Isaiah that I couldn’t do it. That I couldn’t help him,” he told her softly. “I was trying to get out,” he explained.

Mia looked to Tyler her hand  on her head, she gave him a look of disgust as he mentioned Isaiah. “Isaiah, Isaiah, Isaiah” she mocked in a childish voice. “I tell you to stop fucking with that nigga, you keep fucking with him, and then he almost gets you killed. Is that enough? Enough for you to leave his ass alone?” she argued. “You don’t owe his snake ass shit” she barked as she stood up. “And if I was the old Mia” she said pointing to herself “I would whoop your fucking ass because you knew the shit was foul before you went out and did it” she said pointing at him as she walked up to his bedside. “Coming home fucking me to sleep so you can go out and do this? Sell some weak shit?” she said slapping him across his face and as soon as she did she did it she gasped. “Tyler, I’m so sorry” she breathed out apologetically.

Tyler sat there, quiet as a mouse once more as Mia went off on him. He stared down at his hands in his lap, licking his lips slowly. He didn’t say a word as he allowed her to express all of her anger and pent up emotion and when she hit him, he winced softly, looking up at her with sad eyes. “I’m sorry baby,” Tyler said gently as he reached for her, trying to pull her close despite his injuries.

As Tyler apologized and tried his hardest to pull her closer she pushed him away “who did this?” she cried. “Did Isaiah do this to you?” she asked him curiously as she wiped her face. Mia shook her head as she sniffled hard crying a little harder because of it all. She sat down on the edge of his bed “I thought you were dead” she said barely audible as she broke down before him. It was the thing she had been holding onto because it was the thing that rocked her the most. It shook her to her core, the fear was unexplainable. “I didn’t know what I was going to do without you baby...” she said as hiccuped loudly.

Feeling Mia push him away, Tyler allowed her to slip from his hands as he gazed at her. “No, it wasn’t Izzy,” he said jumping right over the question. “Izzy was trying to get me out of there,” he said honestly. As Mia sat down at on the edge of the bed crying, he slid his arm around her, pulling her closer to him. He rested his head against her arm gently. “I’m alive,” he told her softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I still hate his ass” Mia sniffled gently as she closed her eyes tiredly. She wiped a few more tears that rolled down her cheek, before she opened her eyes again. 

Tyler gently reached up and slid his thumb across Mia’s cheek, brushing away the tears gently. “I love you,” he said gently. “And I’m so sorry.”

Mia sat there for a moment before she finally replied “I love you too” she told him in a whisper.

Tyler gaze her a gentle squeeze. “Sechrest…” he trailed off gently.

Mia sat upright and she looked to Tyler “Sechrest what?” she asked, she knew what he was implying however she needed him to say it outright. “Sechrest…”

Tyler looked away from Mia shaking his head.

Mia looked to Tyler again, licking her lips slowly “my ex husband shot you…” she said. “Isaiah works for Sechrest?” she asked him.

Tyler looked down sadly. “I didn’t know…”

“I hate his ass” Mia growled as she clutched her fist tightly, she inhaled and exhaled it slowly. “I can’t believe this shit Tyler” she said shaking her head. “So stupid” she breathed.

Tyler let out a deep sigh. “Isaiah didn’t know either,” he said softly.

Mia looked at Tyler out of the corner of her eye, her face bright red like a tomato she was fuming over this. She had been wracking her brain around how this could have happened and why. And now that she knew it infuriated her more.

Tyler kept his eyes down as Mia stared at him out the corner of her eye and he licked his lips. “He’s not going to stop until I’m dead…” he said knowingly.

“I guess he has to die first” Mia said sarcastically. “He’s upset, you fucked his wife and then stole her. His bad. I didn’t care about the shit he talked however this takes it to a whole new level” she told him.

Tyler looked up at Mia, his eyes a little big as shock displayed across his face. “W-what?” he said shaking his head. “Mia…” he took her hand into his. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop.”

Mia looked to him her chest rising and falling as her breathing became heavy, she shook her head. “No!” she argued “I am going to handle this myself” she said.

Tyler looked at Mia, grabbing her hand. “Mia…” he said shaking his head. “It’s not worth it.”

“You may never walk again” Mia said as she looked to him “and for what?” she asked. “You can’t play basketball with Mekhi, that means possibly not walking Kenya down the aisle, your art?” she told him. “I’m angry” she replied tearing up again, “I’m mad as hell” she told him.

Tyler gazed at Mia with soft eyes, shaking his head sadly. She was right. If he never walked again, what was he going to do?

Mia looked away from Tyler before she closed her eyes again. “I can’t believe any of this” she breathed again.

#thread. #thread: why? #thread: tyler.

[warren-thomas]

Shit Happens || Closed Para

“Everything has to come to an end, sometime.” - L. Frank Baum, The Marvelous Land of Oz

Thomas wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his arm. He had spent the past two hours working out with the punching bag hanging from his apartment ceiling. His body was in the best condition it had been in since graduating high school. Actively staying in shape was something he had let slip away in the past year. When he looked in the mirror one night to realize his muscle mass had decreased significantly, he quickly made the decision that it was time to start bulking up again. It had become a mild obsession as of late. It wasn’t hard for him to quickly gain that muscle back and more. His body was feeling great as he dropped his clothes on the floor and walked naked to the bathroom for a hot shower. 

The water hit his face, cascading down his chest, and relieving the soreness of his aching muscles. Mia crossed his mind, as she usually did, when he was in the shower alone. He always secretly longed for her while she was at work. He imagined her naked body pressed against the him as the water washed over them. She was beautiful. A smile curved up his lips as he let his mind wander over all the dirty things he would do to her when she arrived home. As much as he was obsessed with working out, he was equally as captivated with his girlfriend. It was always like he could never get enough of her. He should plan another trip for them to adventure off to again. That was his way of stealing her for himself. He didn’t have to share Mia with the world when they were vacationing together. He was also tempted to see how many countries they could bang in...

His phone buzzed on the marble counter top next to the sink. The noise pulled him from his thoughts. Usually Thomas never cared enough to leave what he was doing to check his phone but, this time, he was hoping it was Mia sending him a text mid work day to check in. He finished washing the soap off him, turned off the shower, and grabbed a fluffy white towel to wrap around his waist. He crossed the bathroom floor to grab his phone. 

Text from Brock Wells: yo man long time since you hung out with the boys. we playing football tonight down at the field like the old days. come join! we have drinks

Not Mia. He was instantly disappointed that he left his shower for this. However, it had been a long time since he had picked up a football. Brock was an old friend who had played on the same high school team as Tom. They used to be unstoppable back in the day. After taking a second to decide if he wanted to drag up the past, he shot a text back. 

Text: alright. be there in 30. 

Football. His old love. If his life had turned out different, he could have been playing in college with a full scholarship right now. Instead he was here. He wasn’t complaining though. Here wasn’t so bad. Tom grabbed a fresh pair of shorts and an old jersey, dropping his towel on the ground with his other discarded clothes. Growing up with a maid, he had never learned to properly clean up after himself. He tied his shoes, scribbled a note for Mia on the whiteboard by the door (”out with friends. text me when you get home.” with a lopsided heart drawing), and left the building. 

Twenty minutes later he was pulling into the field he used to get drunk with his friends and play a game of football. It was strange being back here. His life was so different back then. He could see some of the boys out there already tossing the ball around. Thomas hunched his hands into his pockets and walked over towards them. 

“Hey, Warren actually showed! Who would have guessed,” Brock said with a smile. He was a tall, handsome young man. Last Thomas heard, he had gone off to play at the University of Florida. The other two boys with him, Cody and Kyle, were also former friends of his. Cody had dusty blonde hair and blue eyes that the girls had once fawned over. Now his hair was thinning and receding and he had gained quite a bit of weight. Aging had not done him any favors. Kyle was the shyest of the bunch. Tom had never been very close to him but the kid had a good arm and could throw a ball across a field with ease which Tom always respected. 

“You didn’t think I would show? I had to come remind you losers why I was the best on our team. I wouldn’t want you to get too cocky and forget,” he punched Brock’s arm. He could already feel the remnants of his old personality leaking back into him the longer he stood with these guys. “What do I have to do before I get handed a fucking beer?”

Cody chuckled and jogged over to a cooler on the grass where he pulled out a bottle and tossed it over to Tom. He caught it with ease. “You’re looking good, War. What have you been up to these days?” 

“You should see the chick he’s been fucking! I heard she’s a real freak. Like half the town has probably cum inside her at one point,” Brock replied with a cocky laugh. 

Thomas’ eye twitched and his jaw tightened at the comment, “Don’t say shit like that, man, or I’ll break your fucking nose.” 

Brock faked a shocked look and said in a mocking tone, “Oh no has little Warren gone soft?” 

Tom gripped his beer tighter and brought the bottle to his lips, chugging the entire thing down in a second, “Are we gonna play some football or sit around gossiping like a bunch of pussies all night?” The other boys let out a whoop of excitement and grabbed a ball.

 As the night progressed, their intoxication levels rose and their football skills declined. After about the fifth time Tom completely missed the ball due to his vision doubling, was when he finally gave up and rolled onto the grass with a drunk laugh, “I can’t see shit.” 

Brock sat down next to him, “I clearly remember you bragging earlier about how great you were.”

“That was ten drinks ago. I never made any promises about being wasted.” 

Cody nudged Tom’s side with his foot. He hadn’t stopped chugging beers since he arrived. His fair skin had turned a shade a red and his blue eyes were tired and bloodshot. “Come on. One more play. I don’t want to go home yet. Do you know what I have to go home to? A nagging wife and a new born that never stops crying. Give me one more hour of freedom before I kill myself.”

Thomas and Brock shared a look and burst out laughing. He wasn’t sure what so funny about what Cody had said but laughter had been his first emotional response. “Alright, alright! Jeeze don’t bring down everyone’s buzz, man. One more game. We’ll do Brock and I against you and Kyle.” When he stood up, the ground under him seemed to tilt and he stumbled to the side. 

“You sure you want to play another game? You can’t even stand,” Brock asked him. There was a touch of concern in his voice. 

Tom waved him off. “I’m good. I’m good. Give me a second.” He took a step back and promptly vomited into the grass. A groan of disgust was heard among his friends. He wiped his mouth and chuckled. “Some things never change. Let’s go!” 

He jogged towards the center of the field, away from the puddle of puke, and got in position. Kyle threw the ball into the air. Maybe it was the alcohol, but his aim was way off, and the ball landed right into Tom’s arms. 

“Wrong team, dumbass!” Brock shouted with joy. He ran down the field, looking over his shoulder and waiting for Tom to throw him the ball so they could score. Just as he wound his arm back to release it into the air, a heavy weight came piling into his side as Cody ran full force into him to tackle the ball away. 

When you get taught to play football, they teach you how to properly tackle and how to be tackled. The experience is meant to keep each player as safe as possible without impacting the force needed to take someone down. The person being tackled should attempt to land in a certain way so as not to damage anything and be able to get back up and continue the game. The person doing the tackle should know how to position their body to successfully bring someone to the ground without damage. Neither of the boys demonstrated that technique. 

The force Cody hit him with sent him flying to the side. Even if his reflexes hadn’t been limited by the alcohol, he still wouldn’t have been able to steady himself. Thomas landed on the ground, his left arm snapping under the weight of his body, and his head slammed into the dirt, bouncing back up before hitting the ground again. His vision blacked and his body went limp. 

Cody rolled off him and stood up, waiting for Tom to move. The three boys stood in silence as they stared at their friend as if waiting for him to jump up with a laugh. A slow ten seconds passed before any of them moved. 

“...Warren?” Cody nudged the limp body with his foot. 

“Shit,” Brock and Kyle sprinted over to where he laid. “Shit. Shit, what the fuck did you do, Cody?!” Brock rolled Tom onto his back. A bloody bone was poking out the skin of his arm. They looked at each other with panic before Kyle went into action. He pulled off his shirt and wrapped it in a tight knot around the arm to stop the bleeding. “Brock, get your phone. Call an ambulance. Cody, get me any ice left in the cooler.” Each boy ran off to do what they were told while Kyle checked for a pulse. “He has a pulse but he’s not breathing. I’m going to start CPR.” It took three rescue breaths before Thomas gasped for air. His eyes shot open staring up blankly at the dark sky. Kyle paused and sighed in relief until he noticed Tom’s eyes started rapidly twitching left and right. His muscles started to seize spastically as his eyes rolled back into his skull and his body started to shake. A trickle of blood began to trail out of each nostril. 

Brock appeared next to Kyle with the phone against his ear, “Fuck. Uhm, he looks like he’s having a seizure. Could you hurry the fuck up and get here?” Kyle gently placed his hands on either side of Tom’s head to keep him from banging it anymore. Brock kept talking on the phone to the operator as he paced back and forth when they heard the sound of car tires screeching on pavement. They both looked up. “...Cody?” Instead of going to get ice like Kyle had asked, Cody had apparently ran back to his car. They watched as he drunkenly swerved the car out of the lot and away from the scene. “What the fuck! What the fuck, Cody! That fucking asshole! I’m going to fucking kill hi-” Brock stopped his rant when he noticed Thomas had stopped seizing. “Shit, okay, he’s not...” Remembering he was still on the phone with the operator, “How long until the ambulance is here? I think he stopped seizing...no...no he’s not conscious yet. He hit his head really hard...” 

Thomas groaned. His eyes fluttered opened as he attempted to move. 

“No! No. Stay where you are, Warren. Don’t move,” Kyle placed a hand on Tom’s chest to keep him from moving. “You’re going to be okay. An ambulance is on the way. Just try to relax.” 

Tom glanced at the two faces staring down at him. He didn’t recognize these people. Why was he on the ground? His mouth moved but no words came out, only a slurred jumble of incomprehensible mumbles. He closed his eyes again. He wanted to go back to sleep. He had been sleeping before, right? He had been in his bed. Maybe. He couldn’t remember. His head was throbbing. Suddenly his stomach clenched and bile forms in the back of his throat before he vomited all over himself, not even having the energy to tilt his head to the side. One of the people there did it for him as he coughed up more of his stomach’s contents. 

“He’s puking. There’s blood in it. He tried speaking I think but we couldn’t make out what he was trying to say.” The other person was speaking to someone on a phone. Was he talking about him? Why were these people in his house? Thomas slumped onto his back and closed his eyes once more. Maybe they’d be gone when he woke up again. 

“Stay with me, Warren. You gotta stay awake.” The voice sounded so far away. Like an echo lost in a big empty room. He was floating. Floating in the grass as if it was water. It was almost peaceful, the rocking sensation he was feeling. Sirens in the distance pushed their way into his ears. The closer they got, the more his head started to feel like it was splitting in half. Too loud. They’re too loud. He tried to tell them to be quiet. He thought the words were coming out but he couldn’t hear anything but the piercing sound. Something in his pocket buzzed. 

Mia. Maybe Mia had texted him? Maybe she was finished with work? He had to check to see if she was on her way home. Thomas tried to reach for his pocket with his left arm but it wouldn’t budge from the spot. There was no pain. He was just confused as to why it wouldn’t move when he wanted it to. Those people were still talking to him. He couldn’t hear them. Their voices faded into nothing. He used his other arm to grab the phone from his pocket. He had to see when Mia was coming home. The phone slipped from his hand. He couldn’t grip onto it. He was tired. So tired.

Tom closed his eyes. Mia would be home soon. He’d tell her about the trip he was going to plan for them. She could pick anywhere she wanted to go. He’d follow her anywhere. 

His thoughts disappeared into darkness as his body went limp, unable to fight off the heavy need to sleep.

#para #its late and i didn't proof read so apologies in advance is its unreadable

[doubledrivel-blog]

13. Trump vs Lavar Ball - Ray Allen is a jilted lover - How old was Manute Bol?

Greg: Hello and welcome to another episode of Double Drivel. We are a weekly podcast offering a fan's perspective on the news and issues surrounding the NBA. Thank you for joining us. My name is Greg and I am joined as always by my co-host JT. You can find us on Twitter @doubledrivelers or email us at [email protected]. JT what up my friend?

JT: Not too much Greg. It's so nice to be talking with you again. Where have you been? It seems like you've been somewhere else lately.

Greg: I hosted Thanksgiving, and then we had a little family trip to Germany for a dance completion. I am known as the Lord of the dance. The Lord of the dance is what they call me. There's a lot of things you don't know about me and one of them is so my German folk dancing. It's very important to me, but I'm very private with it.

JT: That's incredible. What is the best thing about Germany?

Greg: My favorite thing is the food. There's a lot of great food, and the people are very nice. You can drink almost anywhere. I don't know of a place you can't drink. I don't really know the laws or the language well enough to know where the limits are. I know that I drank in a grocery store walking inside. I walked in with a beer from outside, drank it walking up and down the aisles of that grocery store, and checked out with that same beer. No one even blinked or looked at me or really cared in the least. Amazing, it's just a strange amazing place. From what I understand there was a lot of strange amazing stuff here during the time since we last spoke. Lavar Ball and Donald Trump went head to head, Ray Allen had some issues, and there's a story about someone that we loved growing up, a really big guy, Manute Bol, We're gonna start with the heavyweight matchup, Lavar Ball and Donald Trump. You had the best little

line here in the notes that it's a federal level Twitter beef, and it really was. Why don't you go over a little bit on why they're fighting?

JT:  Yes sir Greg. We have the President of the United States, who recently took a trip to China, a planned trip. The presidents travel, and wheel and deal. This is coming on the heels of three young UCLA basketball players who were arrested for shoplifting in China. We discussed committing a crime in China on last week's show Greg, which is actually a big deal. They actually will throw you in jail for a really long time for things that.

Greg: If you told me people still got their hands cut off in China for stealing I'd believe it I believe it 100%.

JT: There was a high-end retail shop attached to the hotel they swiped some watches from. They got caught, they

got arrested, and we were kind of on hold for a minute. Then they got released and the president started speaking

about how their release came to be. He says that he had to have conversations with powers-that-be in China, and he had to essentially call in a favor. The basketball players were released, they came back to the US, and then they put

these three kids up on the podium do a press conference at UCLA. They ask them look like a hostage video. Those

kids weren't even smiling. They were saved from 10 years in prison. They stood up there like they weren't thankful or happy about anything.

Greg: Very strange to me, but please continue.

JT: Imagine 19 years old and then you go from a very high end Chinese hotel to a Chinese prison to staying in that Chinese prison for a decent amount of time. Then they were on house arrest at the hotel.

Greg: They never made them actually go to the prison that was one good little thing.

JT: They didn't even spend time in a Chinese prison?

Greg: That's great. No one should-

JT: Fine even if they don't have to go there, they come back and our president was waiting for a thank you that he never got.

Greg: Trump was not happy. He felt slighted because he was never formally thanked. He went on an offensive.

JT: Oh no, mercy me.

Greg:  Lavar Ball said the release of the students didn't have a lot to do with Donald Trump. Mr. Ball had some people on the ground kind of downplaying Trump's role and it wasn't a big deal. That was the worst line of all. It wasn't a big deal he said.

JT: That's the kind of thing that gets Donny boy fired up. as we've

come to understand and let me pull up

Greg:  If they said any sort of thank you he would have caught it. He would have known He would have replied to it on Twitter the same way he replied to the fact they had not said thank you.

JT: It's important to always say thank you regardless of your views. If the guy got you out of ten years of Chinese prison you definitely say thank you.

Greg: The original tweet from the president was “Do you think the three UCLA basketball players will say thank you President Trump?”

JT: He was ready. He's just winding up. They were heading for ten years in jail yeah and this man transitioned right to the 280 characters of Twitter.”

JT: “Donald Trump from Twitter on November 22nd “Lavar you could have spent the next five to ten years during Thanksgiving with your son in China no NBA contract to support you but remember Lavar” he keeps using his name “shoplifting is not a little thing it's a really big deal especially in China ungrateful fool China strongly says.”  Strong words from the president.

Greg: You know what they have in common? They both have WWE appearances. Much like WWE careers one actually had almost the whole storyline built around him and one was just really a one-hit wonder that showed up on one episode. Lavar ball wishes he was at the level Donald Trump is. He is someone who wants to be in the news every day. This is someone who's dying for the kind of beef that Donald Trump brought him. It  gets him in the news and that's all he cares about. And fighting with the president, you don't do better than that. That's high level beef.

JT: Why waste the words on this? I didn't think it was gonna happen this way. I figured it'd be something stupid, but never did I think that a father of an unproven rookie, who doesn't have the platform for this volume of a message, he just doesn't fucking have it- There's no way I thought that two months into the NBA season these two numbnuts would be wagging dicks at each other. This is certainly much faster than anybody would have anticipated. I would have doubted that those two comments would have put across at some point.

Greg:  You're kind of a Monday Morning Quarterback though.

JT: Let me try to guess who else that he'll have a fight with. It's got to be easy enough. After the fighting with the president it's kind of like shooting fish in a barrel.

Greg: He's just rounding up people now. It's where we are, everybody's coming into contact. It's kind of amazing.

JT He's gonna fight with Kanye, how about that. He will straight up be fighting with Kanye in the next six to nine months. Like when  screech fought Hoody in the fucking celebrity dumb shit boxing show.

Greg: He's fought the guy from Welcome Back Kotter. Poor Horshack. He fought Horshack. Up next we’ve got something that you love, so keep your laughing face on. Ray Allen's on the scene. I know this is a story very close

to your heart. I actually heard someone reference his appearance in a certain movie, and how he was the best part of that movie. I don't know how I feel about that comment. Why don't you tell us a little about your love for Ray Allen, and give us a little backstory.

JT: I don't have a tremendous love for Ray Allen. The majority of it comes from my close association of late 90s basketball movies of which I am a huge fan. There's three I love, “Above the rim with Tupac and Leon. You know my man Leon, who also played David Ruffin The Temptations NBC movie which you know I fucking love Greg.

Greg: He was in Oz too wasn't he?

JT:  Yeah and White Men Can't Jump. I have that painting in my garage of Billy Ho getting his Reeboks pumped up by Sidney Deane. I also love He got Game the Spike Lee movie with Ray Allen and Denzel Washington. Everyone loves Denzel Washington.

Greg: In all honesty I don't know if I've ever seen that movie. I've seen bits and pieces of it, but there's no way I've seen the whole movie.

JT: In He’s got Game Denzel puts on a stronger performance than Ray Allen. Ray Allen's character’s name is Jesus Shuttlesworth. Not “Hay-Zues,” they go straight up Jesus. One line from is Jesus Shuttlesworth impersonating his own mother from childhood. They live in the  projects and there's a basketball court surrounded by high-rise apartment buildings, and come dinnertime his mother would put her head out the window and yelled “Jesus Jesus!” so yes, he go by Jesus. It's a great movie Greg, you should see it.

Greg: I'll watch it over Christmas break when I'm home.

JT: Be sure to watch it. That’s what put Ray Allen on my radar. He's in this movie I really like and then Ray Allen has a very successful NBA career. He sets the record for the three-point percentage in the regular season. He sets it for that same three-point percentage record for NBA playoff season playoffs. He's out but then he pops back up in the news. Ray Allen recently appeared in the Florida Court to respond to a claim of stalking. Ray Allen responded to claim that he has been stalking a man named Bryant Coleman. You know this isn't going anywhere good. Do we know a lot of stories about NBA players stalking anyone?

Greg: I can't think of any. The closest I can think of is a story I love with Matt Barnes. He drove all that way to punch Derek Fisher in the face. He drove 50 miles to whoop his ass because he was at his ex-wife's house. That's certainly not stalking but that's court stuff I think about when shit's getting dirty. Even in that situation that's NBA player versus current or former NBA player, and you can follow the charges and the situation. What could possibly bring on bothering and stalking a man

JT: I  bet you Greg Ray Allen wishes this was a drug charge. He was sitting around like “God I just need one reporter to think I got a coke problem, please!” He claims that this guy Brian Coleman impersonated many different women online and effectively catfished him.

Greg: That's no good. Isn't that weird though? Why would Ray Allen stalk someone who was bamboozling him? Allen was claiming that he was multiple women?

JT: At one time he was kind of stringing Ray along on whatever avenues he was pursuing women on, whether it be Craigslist or-

Greg: It was  probably Craigslist

JT: This is what Ray Allen claims, but Brian Coleman says that all along he was looking for me. There weren’t any girls or catfishing. My mam was looking for the Bryan. This guy says Ray knows I'm a dude, we get down, we've done this in the past, and we've done it pretty recently. This guy might have signed a non-disclosure agreement about it.

Greg: Oh snap! They're getting down like a couple of bills fans in the parking lot. Ray’s got to pay him off and get him to sign an NDA and then the guy breaks it. Usually you don't get into that type of situation unless you want someone to stay quiet. The only thing we can do to clear this up is invite them both on the show. We'll just clear the air. We can bring Alan, he’s always welcome, and Brian Coleman. I'll have to try to reach out but, Ray Allen, you’re always welcome.

JT: This is a come as you are, judgment-free environment. Anyone with anything to say can come on and clear the air. That invitation is out there. Ray Allen join us when it's convenient for you.

Greg: If you're in any sort of trouble I'm not gonna hit you with the hardball questions. I’ll give you a nice soft landing here to give you a platform. Thanks again Ray, we love this story. We are gonna move on to our good friend who we grew up with a big tall fella, Manute Bol.

JT: That's a guy who was 7’7. He was the tallest person ever to play in the NBA. There is reason to believe that he made up his age.

Greg: I always found it crazy that you didn't even know how old you were, that there was so little documentation around you that you wouldn’t have any idea. He looks old in some of those pictures we were looking at. He may have been 50 years old. Go back and look at those pictures JT. He looks about 50 years old.

JT: When he went to Cleveland State Greg he enrolled at the University of Bridgeport, a Division two basketball school. When he had to fill out the paperwork, apparently the coach just fudged the numbers because no one knew how old he was. I can relate to this story personally Greg. You and I were rubbing elbows at this point in Pleasant Valley with  Mark Bang’s son.

Greg: 'm gonna take the other half of the story. There were two kids in our grade at our school. They were adopted and they definitely came internationally. I don't know what country, but there is reason to believe Mark was very old.

JT: I remember eating lunch with Mark. We were in elementary school. I'll never forget it. It was second grade, and there was a man sitting at our table. His name was Mark, and he was in my class. He was not in second grade. He was 13, and he had a brother who had some disabilities. He was even older. Mark used to yell at him like he was a little brother, but he was much smaller. Joey's age also very cloudy.

Greg: I don't think the world will ever know how old Mark and Joey were.

JT:  They were great people Greg. They were great teammates. I got the opportunity to interact and spend time with both of them. He played Little League with us. They were fast as fuck Greg. Fast as the day is long, like a cheetah. He would hold his hands in ninja stance, do you remember that? When he was running it was like he was chopping through the air. He was probably five, six, seven years older than the rest of us.

Greg: Joey, Mark, and Manute Bol kind of riding that same wavelength. They're saying he was 50 years old when he was finishing up his NBA career. That's crazy to think about. He was so tall at the same time, just remarkable. He didn't weigh hardly anything. The guy was thin as a rail, but he was one of the first big men that was shooting threes from the outside. He used to line up behind the line all the time. That wasn't something people did at his size. They still don't. It was a very precious shot he had. It was a lot of fingertip and both elbows were  out. He gently put it up there.

JT: Now his son is playing Greg. His son, whose name is Bo Ball, just committed to Oregon. He's gonna be a duck. Greg: He's gonna have that big Nike logo on his giant self. Congratulations to the Ball family. However old Manute is on his next birthday, happy birthday to him. I may have just wished a dead man a happy birthday.

JT: Oh Christ alive, let's see. Yeah, he died in 2010. God rest his soul Manu Ball.

Greg: His son really carrying the torch for the family. That's good for the Ball family. Another great episode JT.

JT: Absolutely. Glad to have you back in the states,

Greg: I'm glad we're back too. Danka. We will be back next week with another episode. In the meantime you can follow us on twitter @doubledrivelers or you can email us at [email protected]. Subscribe to the show on iTunes, podbean, or Google Play. Until next week, we will see you on the Internet.