Inside Jokes - KaySun & TarBer 🔞 Yalı Çapkını

1. One Night Stand

Author's Note: Disclaimer: I do NOT ship TarBer irl. I was asked by multiple people to write this; I only enjoy their friendship.
I hope everyone enjoys this KaySun / TarBer fic! (Except if your name is Taro or Beril, then you cannot read this fic). Before you all come for me, I'll have you know this was highly requested and I usually NEVER write stuff like this. So, enjoy and please don't cancel me!

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When Beril wakes up, stretching herself and yawning, she opens her eyes and finds herself in an unfamiliar place.

It's not an ugly bedroom, per se, it's actually quite organized; however, now with the light pouring in from a gap between the blackout curtains, she sees everything is rather plain, furniture in shades of black, white, and dark blue. A man's bedroom?

Wait, where am I?

Still confused and sleepy, she wrinkles her nose and tries to get a hold of her bearings. The minimalist ebony digital clock on the study table across the bed reads 11:13. She begins to get a sinking feeling in her stomach.

There's someone breathing in bed beside her. Her eyes widen when it dawns upon her just who, exactly, it is. She knows it now, yet she can't bear to look. Not when she's blinking the sleep out of her bleary eyes and slowly realizing that if she leans forward, she can see clothes and underwear strewn across the floor.

She nabs an oversized Sex Pistols T-shirt that's been left on a chair to cover her naked body temporarily, then grabs her clothes and underwear and makes a beeline for the door, taking great lengths to stay as quiet as possible so as not to wake...him up.

Once she's in the living room, she finds her shoes, then grabs her bag and her phone, which has miraculously made it to morning with only 30% of its battery life left. A missed call from her manager glows up at her, and a few texts. You sure you don't need me to pick you up for set? You have until noon to change your mind. She curses underneath her breath.

There's no time to brush her teeth or eat breakfast. Instead, she slicks her hair into a smooth ponytail and changes back into her day-old clothes. As she leaves the man cave apartment, careful to shut the door behind her softly, she decides to take the stairs in the back of the building instead of the elevator, then proceeds to begin her walk of shame downstairs.

Memories of last night come flooding back to her mind: the alcohol, the flirting, the laughter, and of course, the sex. She winces. She barely remembers, but she knows it felt good. Like it was something she wanted for some time, like it was a dream she finally had fulfilled—though not without its fair share of regrets. And that it—the sex—went on for sometime. A long time. A record for her. And maybe him, she doesn't know. But still...Stupid Beril, letting your feelings run away from you. You don't do one-night stands. You never did, even when you are single. How will you face him now, kız?

As she hails a taxi, her cheeks burning from embarrassment and also from the almost-noon day sun, she sees him call her. She doesn't dare respond. Instead, she sends a text to her manager. Sorry, I overslept. Can you meet me on set and bring me breakfast and an iPhone charger?

He replies almost immediately. Ok. Then, This isn't like you, hope you're okay.

Another call is incoming, but she ignores it again as she slides into her taxi. "Bebek neighborhood please, abi," she says. "As fast as you can."

The taxi driver nods and starts his meter. "Had a rough night?" he asks, steering them into the Istanbul traffic.

The memories awash her again, and she kneads the space between her eyebrows with her fingers. "You don't know the half of it," she mutters.