#she’s like actively taking notes of people ..
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ace-of-bass · 1 day ago
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Also: Building community is not just an outreach tool. It is a tool of keeping ourselves safe and keeping resources available to all. Offering things on social media like rides to abortion clinics, or diy hrt, or anything else that is perhaps not-totally-legal in all places, is not a great strategy. For one, you shouldn't trust strangers on the internet with information that sensitive, so those you are offering those services to would do well not to trust you. If you want to meaningfully contribute to providing things such as the above, or even more legal-but-logistically-complex things like feeding a large number of people, handing out narcan, etc, you need to organize in person. How do you organize in person? By meeting people in person, aka building community.
If this is your goal, you can start with people who are very similar to you! You don't have to start by reaching out to Alt Right David or even Annoying Uncle Bill - you can start by going to a local show or a group that meets at the library or hanging out with your D&D group when you're not actively playing D&D. Then, you have friends that you can rely on to take care of you, and who you might be able to plan some cool mutual aid shit with. I've been working on building community for awhile, at first not intentionally and lately very intentionally, and here's how I met the group of friends I started a monthly free store with:
1. Met Friend A at a choir thing since I like to sing and was looking for friends after moving somewhere new. Friend A ultimately left choir but we stayed friends, and at one point I told Friend A I'm ace.
2. Friend A said, "oh you'd love my friend B, who's also ace! She's doing a comedy show, let's go see her perform together and then you can meet her!"
3. Friend B and I become friends, and start a local peer support group for aspec people, based mostly on Friend B's existing communities and our sheer determination.
4. Fast forward a year and a half, Friend C comes to our aspec peer support group and I become friends with her.
5. Friend C and I are talking about activism, and Friend C says a lot of the things I'm interested in aligns with what Friend D has talked to her about. Friend C introduces me to Friend D.
6. Independently, I have been building a community space on my street, in the rough neighborhood of where Friend C, Friend D, and I live.
7. Friend D and I want to create a solarpunk future but decide to start small. Friend D ropes in several of his friends, one of whom I happen to know from the community space mentioned in 6.
8. This group of friends runs a free store once a month in the community space, open for all to donate to and all to attend. As we find out about others who are doing/want to do similar things, we try to join forces. In this way we've expanded from just a free store to a free store + clothing swap, and we're only on our third time hosting it.
All of these friends are lefty, and all of them are queer in some way or another. The free store friends are explicitly anarchist, like me. I think OP's point is useful for deradicalization and for growing the movement, but if you are alone and you are scared, encouragement to build community is just as much about finding your people in person as it is about forming coalitions with those different in you.
Another important note is that finding people like you should be a starting point, not an ending point. The goal of this is not to find friends, though that's a good start. The goal is to build dual power, which is done by working together with others and having open doors to join the movement. Once you've found some friends or communities, work to ensure that they are open to all, that you are reaching the people who most need the work you are doing, and that you are not simply making yourself feel good or just having a good time with your friends.
Activism is not cold-calling.
Activism is not cold-calling, and this is critically important to understand.
I'm seeing a lot of posts on here about 'building bridges' and 'finding community,' and then (extremely valid) response posts saying "BUT HOW??" And I'm going to explain something that can be very counter-intuitive: there is strategy involved in community.
As a longtime volunteer labour organizer, I’ve taken and taught many trainings on the strategy of talking. Something that surprises a lot of people is the very first thing you do in a union campaign. You sit down with your organizing committee, take out pen and paper, and literally map it out. You draw a physical map of the workplace: where are the entrances, exits, break rooms, supervisor offices. Essentially, ‘where is it safe to have a union conversation.’ Then you draw another physical chart of your coworkers. You sort out who is union-friendly, openly hostile to unions, or somewhere in the middle, and then you plan out very deliberately and carefully who talks to whom and in what order.
Consider: If Vocally Leftist Jane walks up to Conservative David and says "hey what do you think about unions," David is going to shut down immediately. He's not inclined to listen to Jane. But if Jane talks to Moderate Jason and brings him into the fold, then Jason is a far more effective strategic choice to talk to David, and David may actually hear him out without an instant reaction.
IMPORTANT CAVEAT: If Conservative David turns out to be Alt-Right David, and could be dangerous to follow organizers, we write him off. We are not trying to reach Alt-Right David. We are trying to reach Conservative David, who may actually be persuaded to find solidarity with other employees as fellow workers. Jason is a safe scout to find out which one he is. It does no one any good if Leftist Jane (or even Moderate Jane who is a visible minority) talks to Alt-Right David and puts herself on his radar. Not only has she done nothing to convince Alt-Right David to join a union - she's probably actively turned him against the idea - but now she's also in danger and the entire campaign is at risk. NOBODY WANTS THIS. Jane was NOT a hero for doing this. The organizing committee was foolish and enacted a terrible strategy to everyone's detriment.
Where you can make a difference is with people who will listen to you. You having a conversation with your well-meaning but clueless Centrist Democrat Auntie, and maybe gently helping her understand some things the media has been glossing over, is way more strategically useful than you marching up to MAGA Neighbour You've Met Once and trying to "build community" or "understand" them. They don't care. They're impervious, dangerous, and cruel. But maybe your beloved auntie will think about what you said, and then talk to her friend Anna who IDs as "fiscally conservative" but didn't vote because she can't bring herself to get on board with Trump. Then perhaps Anna talks to her brother Nic who has MAGA leanings but isn't all the way there yet. Proto-MAGA Nic would not have listened to you, nor would he have listened to Centrist Democrat Auntie, but he might absorb some of what his sister is saying.
This is not a cop-out or an echo chamber. This is you spending your time and energy strategically and safely. You are not a useful activist to anyone if you’re dead. Anyone who is telling you to hurl yourself directly at MAGA assholes like cannon fodder has no understanding of the strategy behind community building, and you should feel comfortable writing them off.
Last point: If you are tired, emotionally devastated, and/or in danger: take a break. This post is for people who would feel better jumping into action, not for people who are too overwhelmed to even think about it right now. You are worth so much even if you’re not actively Doing Activism, and your rest is worth more than “a break period so you can recharge and Do More Activism.” We all deserve the individual dignity of being worthy of comfort, rest & safety just on the basis of being human, outside of whatever we're doing for others' benefit. To deny ourselves that dignity is to devalue ourselves, and that’s the absolute last thing any of us should be doing right now.
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azrielgreen · 1 day ago
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Hi everyone, so way back in July @thorniest-rose and I posted Chapter Sixteen of Prism and then said in the notes that we were taking a much needed break and would be back in October. Real life being so unpredictable, we weren't able to do that, but the last month or so, Brooke and I have been talking and lot and being really honest and our time allocation for what is essentially hobby writing going forward.
I've loved working with Brooke every single second from the first time in the doc up until the CH16 climax in the church. She is one of the best and most wonderful people I could ever hope to meet, and we're always going to be in each other's lives. I have learnt so so much from her, and it's from her brilliant mind that Prism was born at all!! She inspired me to write darker iterations of characters, she made me feel accepted for liking characters who others had made me feel terrible about, and I say with my whole chest, knowing her in real life is a complete and utter privilege. She is the sweetest, most lovely person, and I love her dearly.
Going forward, Brooke will not have the time to continue actively writing Prism with me. When we started Prism, it was intended to be a one shot, then around 60k, then 150k max, and it snowballed beyond either of our comprehension. Prism wouldn't be what it is today without that open welcome of all ideas and limitless enthusiasm. If we had censored ourselves, it wouldn't be the same. But life has changed since we started writing it for both of us, and therefore, starting with the next chapter, I'll be continuing our fully planned vision and hopefully making Brooke proud.
Ch17 will debut end of Nov.
Thank you all so so much for your patience, support and enthusiasm.
~ A z r i e l
✨️🖤🌛🌕🌜🖤✨️
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manic-sapphic · 18 hours ago
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i know this is a running joke fr but i think there's a good reason for it.
lol like, only sw could find a way to make a sacrifice a selfish move.
literally, only decent thing she ever did was this moment - incinerating herself and the whole room. thanks for finally getting tf outta the way of these girls annnd uhh thanks for.. hmmm.. literally nothing else.
and like, i don't even mean that as getting outta the way of their love. though obvi she actively worked to keep that shit in shambles. i just mean - get out of the way of them living a healthy happy fucking life you old pos :)
but side note, i have had people tell me they think what sw said to catra before the room bursts into flames - was an intentional validation she "knew" would offer her & adora success w the failsafe that sw realized she wouldn't have.
and yeah i sincerely do hope that stupid bitch at least was emotionally aware enough to know that yeah - if she was the one to take adora to the heart, it wasn't gonna work. but even still, if that were true, that wouldn't mean taking the hit from the monster so adora & catra could continue on together somehow awards sw any credit for their success. a chance is never a guarantee.
adora and catra made every stride that had to be made on their own (literally and figuratively). everything shadow weaver tried to brainwash them w in the horde - every awful fucking instinct she worked to ingrain in them - they had to find the power in themselves to reach past all of it. to conquer the divide sw fucking created herself, and meet in the middle.
so no lol. sw gets no cred or love from me. (sorry if this post seems extra aggro tho, it's late where i am and i can't sleep, it gets me kinda irked sometimes lol)
sincerely, manic catra~
bonus tho here's a 3 second edit i found on yt celebrating catradora's freedom from sw ~
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acediscowlng · 2 months ago
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another funny kind of narrative dissonance with dead boy detectives is like. okay. so the boys are convinced that once a ghost's unfinished business is done, Death can find them immediately and take their souls. Which she does. When they're ready to go, she arrives and takes them where they need to go. But therefore this means that the boys immediately have to run away as soon as a case is finished or she'll take them too.
But there's also like. A whole community of ghosts. Just kind of hanging around. Everywhere. Like. In general. There are a lot of ghosts. They seem to be a whole entire community of ghosts. Emma hangs around in a graveyard, a place infamously not associated with death. Suicides apparently automatically get a special version of being a ghost where they are not in Hell but also not taken by Death to the afterlife. Like. Are all these ghosts also under the impression they're like. Pulling a fast one on Death? Do they all think that she can simultaneously turn up to where a ghost is within seconds but also somehow fails to notice a whole community of ghosts just kind of chilling in the same place for decades. Or is this like, a Charles and Edwin thing that no one has the heart to correct them on despite the fact that most ghosts are fully aware that Death simply does not give a fuck where they hang around.
#ara rambles#dead boy detectives#the existence of the lost and found department also kind of makes this more confusing#because like. what is their actual job???#because hell and Death are the ones actually taking the souls#and neither seem to need a guide on where they are???#they just turn up???#Death is death she just turns up she doesn't lose souls there is never any indication that she ever loses souls#so like. the lost and found department has an entire bureaucracy to.... keep track of young souls that aren't actually lost???#we see the devlin girls end up there for processing???so death must take them there but for what???#because the decision on hell/not hell is decided the moment they leave because either Death picks you up or Hell does#so if you're bound for Hell that's decided the moment you die#so what is the processing for??#and on that note. because again. it's not the lost and found department's job to pick up souls#that's either Death or Hell#so like. what was the Night Nurse's plan. why did she want to pick Edwin and Charles up???#That is literally not her job it has never been her job and it continues to not be her job#like the devlin girls are also lost child ghosts and it's not the night nurse who picks them up??? it's still death??#also they're a lost and found and like....#*other* people bring lost things to lost and founds#lost and founds do not actively go looking for things you lost that is not and has never been a thing#so genuinely have no idea what's going on there tbh#i have so many worldbuilding questions about this show you don't understand
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shalpilot · 4 months ago
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confiding
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slumbergoblin · 9 months ago
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Hi Mei :)
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quillkiller · 1 month ago
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having so many university au rosier twins thoughts
#i need to keep writing my bartyrosiers fic….:/#thinking about grumpy social abomination evan who just wants to stay with pandora in their shared bedroom all day every single day#but pandora brings him to parties and events and to meet her friends and to the movies and etc etc etc#and like. evan goes. because even if he Hates it… it’s not like he’s going to be apart from pandora#so he just stands behind her as a looming presence making everyone feel uncomfortable#’pandora do you have to bring this brother…..’ ’yes?’#<- it’s not that pandora is Normaler than evan either shes just better at pretending to be#its like she puts on a different disguise depending on who she hangs out with#<- because pandora is fascinated by People and Relationships and Dynamics and Interactions#she’s like actively taking notes of people ..#whereas evan would prefer to just. keep them locked up in their room#so when they finally get home again pandora is going through her notes / and evan is going through his own notes and dangerous thought-#experiments#shoulder to shoulder and mindlessly playing footsie#pausing sometimes to make out and whatever <3#anyway exasparated irritared quiet evan tagging along to whatever pandora wants to do because like. what else is he gonna do……#NOT be with pandora ? absolutely not…#so he comes along and no one likes him <3#as if pandora isn’t doing literal experiments on these people and their boundaries and interactions without them knowing… 🤍#she’s just better at pretending to fit in<3#rosier twins
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deanpinterester · 6 months ago
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mcu stans losing their minds on twitter over florence pugh's quote of "i actually like marvel's strict schedule because that means they're not wishy washy and it works for me :)" and they're going SEE MARVEL'S TIGHT SCHEDULE IS NOT A BAD THING and meanwhile the vfx workers are still suffering from supreme crunch Because of the strict schedule but yeah i'm sure the actors' opinions are the only ones that matter 🥴
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party-gilmore · 9 months ago
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there was literally… ZERO reason… for her to bring up Jews in that article… at all…
this was a devastating story about a military man fatally self-immolating in protest of america supporting the ongoing message and should have REMAINED focused on him and message, there was… literally no fucking reason for that article to derail and complain about “israel supporters” being “afraid of antisemitism”
…like what the actual fuck.
“You simply cannot fit more America into a single incident than a man dying a horrifying death in protest of war crimes while a first responder screams at cops to stop pointing their guns at him and go get fire extinguishers. If you were to pick a single moment in history to sum up the essence and expression of the US empire, that would be it.”
Caitlin Johnstone, The Most American Thing That Has Ever Happened
#like until i actually CLICKED on the article#i was like SO fucking true this is ridiculous that it’s come to THESE levels of outright ignoring even an ACTIVE DUTY AIR FORCE MEMBER#when he’s so fucking desperate for this country to stop aiding war crimes and being complicit in this genocide he will commit suicide via#public self immolation in protest. that’s a HUGE fucking statement. but then. this.#this was SO fucking unnecessary the story LITERALLY could have just been about him and focus on how terrible it is that these are the limit#we have to go through to be heard about something like just NOT GENOCIDING A BUNCH OF PEOPLE.#but NOPE gotta make sure we take one last dig at ‘Israel Supporters’ here and mention how their fear of rising antisemitism isn’t genuine#because they aren’t [checks notes]… publically killing themselves over it as protest#‘israel supporters’ ffs just say what i know you want to say here like. ‘oh but she separated them from Jews later in the statement’ yeah#right after using the words ‘super serious’ to describe the antisemitism crisis to use us as a token for ‘israel supporters’ to ‘claim’ we#feel unsafe. like the story could (AND SHOULD!!!) have BEEN ABOUT this airman!!!!! and who even the boots on the ground in OUR MILITARY kno#this is so wrong they’ll go to such extreme measures in protest!!!! and how american police literally just… pointed their guns at a#a burning man instead of trying to get him put out???? and he died???? like there was ZERO reason to pull Jews into this conversation AT AL#why even MENTION us or antisemitism????? if it wasn’t as part of one final derailing dig????#tw: antisemitism#tw: suicide#tw: self immolation#free palestine
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neverendingford · 9 months ago
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#tag talk#just realized the intense depression and associated anger issues and intrusive violent thoughts are prolly related to the Lamictal I starte#I was like “I don't think I need this don't think it'll help but I'll try it for science” because I'll try anything once#and uhhh. I went to go to bed and realized there was a bowl with food tucked into my bed covers.#laundry all over is one thing. that's kind of normal. but food in my bed is massive warning bells so I was like uh oh that's real depressio#so anyway i messaged my dr like hey I think these meds are making me feel so fucking lethargic and despondent and also I want to kill peopl#because I would just stop taking them but I'm willing to see what she thinks.#also my current psychiatrist is really great and I like her a lot idk if I already talked about her but she's really cool.#the first one I got was an absolute dick and was passive aggressive towards me and also straight up lied in her notes about me?#said that I had said I'm not sexually active and like. bitch where did I ever say that ever that's literally untrue and you wrote it down.#like. I don't think medical professionals are supposed to lie about you actually that's kind of a big problem#also she was like “I'm not seeing adhd here at all” and wanted to do a full on adhd diagnosis before trying any meds for it#whereas my new person was just like “oh you don't have to talk about being adhd it's pretty obvious to me” and I was like kissing you kissi#ng you kissing you kissing you kissing y#but yeah. I don't think I want to keep taking these meds and I think I'm just gonna take the meds I have to today not the short term ones#some days I just don't need my adhd meds or I would rather feel my normal relatively unproductive self.#still gonna take the ssri and estrogen obvs cause those need to keep up levels in my body and also duh I wanna keep my E levels up#but the others nah my body is super sensitive to meds (or any substances tbh) so I need a break from them today I feel really unbalanced#I did have my gf deadass ask me “should I be worried?” when I mentioned the violent intrusive thoughts and I was like no no no no it's fine#because like. I've never genuinely hurt someone fully impulsively like that. it's all thoughts it's all in the head#I'm not gonna kidnap and murder and dissect anyone it's just theoretical situations my brain likes to fuck me up with.#but it does kinda suck to have people around you inherently mistrust you because of how your brain works.#my brother told me a while back that he locks his door at night because he's worried about me and you do know how fucking hurtful that is?#the person you trust enough to move out and move in with is afraid of you enough to lock their door at night.#not like that would stop me if I genuinely did try to hurt him obviously. interior door locks are a joke.#but like... that someone would hear you talk about intrusive thoughts and genuinely think you capable of them to some extent.#idk that hurts a lot.#I wish I weren't like this.
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main take aways from Halloween (1978) rewatch:
michael myers is canonically 21??? this bitch should be at the club
*sees tiddies* ***MURDEROUS RAMPAGE NOISES***
that's it that's the movie
outside of the fact that everyone who has sex is murdered by the narrative, this is a surprisingly chill portrayal of female sexuality? these teen girls are horny and actively enjoying Getting It On with their boytoys. no pushy boyfriends sneaking in through their bedroom windows--these ladies are taking the initiative to sneak out and GET SOME. one of them gets laid and then immediately orders her boyfriend to get her a beer. (yes she gets Slashered soon afterward, but so does the boyfriend so honestly, gender equality.) yes the Final Girl is the only one not having sex, but she's not bullied for that, nor are her friends slut shamed except possibly by being murdered by the narrative
actually the only character who is shown being morally condemned on-screen is michael myers. specifically FOR his violent overreaction to other people's sex lives. (people he is spying on). metaphorically, the villain is American Puritanism sticking its judgy nose into other people's business.
aka Michael Myers Is A Republican
but actually the real villain is the doctor. guy's a judgemental, shaming, pathologizing asshole. and he's been in charge of michael's care since he was SIX YEARS OLD? kid never had a chance. i'd go on a killing spree too
also the parents. where are the parents? it's halloween night and all the teenage girls are home babysitting their younger siblings? come to think of it, michael's first victim was his own older sister, whom he killed while she was babysitting him. teen girls are really shouldering a labour burden here. maybe parentification is the true villain
side note: mike commits his first murder wearing a clown costume...which is never referenced again? his 'iconic' costume is a generic mask and wig and jumpsuit, when we coulda had a Killer Clown Michael Myers??? travesty
i like how the Final Girl and her friend casually smoke weed in her car. yeah she's an honor student and her friend is the sheriff's daughter. yeah they smoke weed. so what it's 1978
(to reiterate, mike is 21 and should be at the club. im not saying he shouldn't be rampaging, im saying it's sad that he broke out, tasted freedom for the first time in his life, and immediately snuck back into his childhood home to go rampaging. let's have a remake where he goes to a nightclub and has a few beers. maybe some slutty dancing. then rampage)
oh no he's hot
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#HALLOWEEN#halloween the movie#michael myers#do you think he's a mike? mikey? to his friends? if slashers had friends?#i'll be honest i was expecting this movie to be way more of a bitch to its female characters#i mean yeah they died but so did some dudes#there's just a lack of cattiness compared to the way most later movies portrayed teenage girls idk#yeah the Final Girl is a Virgin and a Bookworm. but there's no bullying or any strong sense that's she's morally superior to everyone else#mostly she AND the other girls feel a bit sorry for her lack of a social life. one even tries to set her up with a date to the school dance#solidarity! trying to get your nerd friend laid!#overall it's just teenagers being teenagers and then a slasher comes in and ruins everything with his Lack Of Chill#like yeah dude sometimes teenagers have sex. get over it#also something to be said about how while the girl who survives is the one who isn't sexually active and dresses conservatively...#ultimately those things aren't ENOUGH to prevent her from being targeted#you could say that the other girls 'provoked' the villain (the same way women irl are so often accused of provoking their attackers)#but ultimately that doesn't keep the Final Girl safe. it just delays the inevitable.#because violent men never need excuses. no matter how eager society is to provide them.#ultimately she is at the mercy of the same violent whims because it was never her behavior that invited the violence.#gendered violence doesn't need an invitation.#also she doesn't save herself the doctor saves her#it's not her actions or choices that put her in danger OR save her from it--once again it is the whim of a man#no this wasn't intended to be a feminist movie it's just fun how you could argue it that way
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seospicybin · 3 months ago
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THE FUCKBOY NEXT DOOR.
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PART I
Bangchan x reader. (s,a)
Chapters: Part II / Part III
Synopsis: Having issues to break up with your boyfriend, you seek help from the boy next door and the number one fuckboy in the area, Chan. (10k words)
Author's note: I went through a nasty break up a few weeks ago and this is basically just me trying to cope by being delulu about having a fuckboy Chan as a neighbor. Enjoy x
It becomes a habit now that Chan doesn't know where he is when he wakes up in the morning.
The first thing that he'll do is retrace everything to last night. He was DJ-ing at a club, had a few drinks in between, met a girl who was eyeing him the whole night, had a few more drinks, there was a little touching and a quick makeout session in the dark alley and people can guess what happens after that
So this is where he is right now, the girl's bedroom and he can recall everything that happened last night except the girl's name.
"Fuck!" Chan mutters under his breath.
Judging from how bright the sun is outside, he knows he only has a little window to make his escape so he quickly gets off the bed as calmly as possible. He then tiptoes around to gather his clothes and put them on without making any noise.
However, he fails at it as the head from his belt hits the bed frame and the clanging of metal meets metal echoing in the room.
The girl steers on her sleep and rolls over to the side, she brushes her hair away from her face, catching Chan putting his belt on.
The plan to make a quick getaway has come to a failure but he keeps his cool, continuing to buckle his belt and then plants his hands on each side of his waist.
"Morning," He awkwardly says with a forced smile.
"Morning," the girl replies with a smile then props an elbow against the mattress, sending the duvet sliding down her body and exposing her bare chest to him.
Chan might have been a little drunk when he met her but damn, his fuckboy radar works well even under the influence of alcohol.
"You're leaving already?" She asks, flipping her hair to the back to expose more of those beautiful mounds to him.
Chan has to tell his pervy brain to focus actively, he looks away and picks up his jacket from the floor.
"I promised a friend to help him move out today," He lies, then pretends to check the time on his phone, "And I'm kind of late."
The girl nods then twirls her hair around her finger, "Well then... when can I see you again?"
"I hope soon," Chan says with his charming grin that disguises the insincerity in his answer.
The girl smiles at that which confirms that the grin works, "But seriously, I can't wait to see you again," she says.
"I'll call you," he says because that's what he can promise her at the moment but whether he'll do it or not is uncertain.
"But you don't have my numbers yet," she says with her eyebrows wrinkled in suspicion.
"No, I'm sure you already did," he says, convincing her by scrolling the contacts on his phone.
"Yup. I have your numbers already," he lies again, showing her a random contact on his phone for a quick second.
"But my name is Thalia," she says, cleverly catching the name on the contact.
"Yes, of course, you're Thalia," he says with utmost confidence and his ultimate weapon of a dimpled smile.
The girl seems alarmed though. She sits up on the bed and clutches the duvet close to her chest, "We're going to see each other again, right Chris?"
"Yes," he answers without a beat, and at this point, lying is as easy as breathing to him.
"Can I get a kiss before you leave?"
"Sure," he says, coming around the bed to give her a quick peck on the lips.
The girl smiles when he lets go and watches as he walks to the doorway, "I'll call you, Tanya."
"It's Thalia," she corrects him with an apparent displeasure on her face.
Chan shoves his phone into the pocket of his jeans and takes the time to properly bid her goodbye. Nothing a girl likes more than a sweet mouth and a little assurance, he'll give her exactly that.
"I'll see you soon, Thalia," Chan says with a smile.
"See you soon, Chris," and the girl naively believes him, if only she knew that this will be the last time they're seeing each other.
Yet again, Chan makes another successful getaway.
-
The warm weather of spring makes it a pleasant walk from the bus stop to his apartment building. He wants to stop somewhere for breakfast but his head feels heavy from the hangover, he just wants to go home as soon as possible, have a bowl of cereal then take an aspirin for the pounding headache.
In the lobby, he makes a quick stop to collect his mail and takes a quick check at it, sorting them out on the spot so he knows which ones he should bring upstairs.
From the corner of his eyes, Chan catches his neighbor, you with your boyfriend chatting by the elevator. He notices the gestures, the expression, and the whole interaction, it doesn't take a genius to know that something is going on there that the naked eyes can't see.
Chan throws the unnecessary mail into the trash bin nearby and walks to the elevator, hearing the little conversation going on between you and your boyfriend.
"...the waffles were delicious. We should have breakfast there again," the boyfriend says as he looks at you, "What do you think?"
"Yeah," you meekly answer while looking at the little screen that shows the floor the elevator is stopping in.
Chan tries to remain invisible but his eyes accidentally make contact with your boyfriend so he may as well make his presence known.
"Hi, neighbor," he greets, he knows your name but you seem to prefer to be called that way.
You do what you always do whenever you meet each other in the building, give him a quick judging look and a courteous smile.
"And hi neighbor's boyfriend," he greets your boyfriend next.
"Hi," your boyfriend greets back, "Chris, isn't it?"
"Yes and you are Lee," Chan responds.
"Right. So how was your Friday night?" Lee initiates a small talk.
"I believe it wasn't as good as yours," Chan playfully answers.
"Oh, we just stayed in and watched a movie, right baby?" Lee says, putting his arm around your shoulder.
All of a sudden, you take a step forward and say, "It's here."
The elevator doesn't chime until a moment later but you seem to be more than eager to get in. You turn around to give your boyfriend a quick hug.
"I'll try to leave early so we can have dinner together," Lee says with a quick kiss on the cheek.
"It's okay. Take your time," you say with a faint smile.
Chan quietly gets into the elevator and holds the door open for you, he tries not to look at what's happening in front of him not out of politeness but it's just painful to watch.
"I'll call you," Lee adds, catching your hand as you enter the elevator and kissing it.
"Okay," you say then wave your hand at him.
To help you get out of it, Chan releases his finger off the buttons and sends the doors sliding shut.
"Bye, baby," Lee says for the last time before the doors completely close.
It's just another awkward elevator ride with you and he'll usually try to endure it but after watching all that and trying not to say anything is hard, he can't help but impose.
He glances at you to check whether you're ready to hear about what he has to say but you always have the same stoic expression. Then it occurs to him that he has never seen you smile impolitely or out of joy, or even hear your laugh, but maybe after you hear what he's about to say, he'll get to see a different facial expression on you.
"Oh, man! That was painful to watch," he sighs as he keeps looking straight ahead at his reflection in the shiny furnace of the elevator.
There's no one else in the elevator so you're fully aware that he's talking to you but you don't respond until a while later.
There you go, with your judging look and stoic expression, looking at him as you say, "Excuse me?"
Chan doesn't want to sound rude but beating around the bush isn't his thing, he prefers to be straightforward. He knows it's all based on assumptions but he's pretty sure his judgements are pretty accurate.
He's going to just do it and lay out the facts, he turns to the side, then leans his back against the cold surface of the elevator.
"Your shoulder tightens when he called you baby and the fact you lied about the breakfast tells me that you didn't actually like his choice of restaurant," he pauses to let out a cynical chuckle, "the waffles weren't that good, I guess?"
When he wants to see a different facial expression on you, he doesn't mean seeing your angry one, but oh well, the damage has been done.
"Because I'm a good girlfriend that's why I let him choose the restaurant," you become defensive all of a sudden but that's an unconvincing answer.
"No, you let him choose out of pity," he simply remarks, "And just now, your nostrils flared when I pointed it out."
With all of these signs combined with his personal experiences, Chan narrows it out to one conclusion. He looks at you in the eyes and says, "You're about to break up with him, don't you?"
It looks like you've been slapped right on the face except that the slap doesn't come from someone, it's from the truth that comes out of Chan's unfiltered mouth and he instantly regrets it for meddling in in someone else's business.
"I'm sorry, but why are we having this conversation?" You ask, crossing your arms together in front of you.
"It's not like you're any better. You slept around, you're scared of commitment and now, sticking your nose at my business. You are the kind of person that I deeply despise!" You angrily say with your chest heaving.
It seems like you're saying all of those things about him out of anger because he sees right through you but now he knows why you always give him that judging look. He's the one who started it so yeah, okay, maybe he deserves that but that doesn't change the truth. The problem is what he said and your response, they're heading in the opposite direction.
"I think someone has her panties in a twist," Chan coyly responds.
"Look, there's nothing wrong with wanting to break up. That doesn't make you a bad person," he adds and decides to end the talk right there.
It gets quiet in this enclosed space and it's already suffocating as it is but how lucky that he has to patiently wait for the elevator to ride through three more floors to get out of here.
When the elevator finally dings open, Chan lets out a breath he doesn't know he's been holding but he's not the one in a hurry to exit both this space and the situation. He stays where he is and lets you out first.
When he thinks you don't have anything else to say, you stop right outside the elevator and look at him with a piercing gaze.
"Don't, for one second, think that you had any effect whatsoever on my panties!" You emphasize every word in anger, then storm off.
Know what? Maybe Chan should skip the bowl of cereal and take two aspirin instead. As for you, maybe you need to chill the fuck out.
-
Just because you've been neighbors with Chan for the past three years doesn't mean that you know each other on a personal level.
All you know about him is that he's a DJ which explains why there's always music playing in his apartment, he always wears a sleeveless top to showcase his muscles, and he always has a stupid grin on to show off the stupid dimples on his stupid face, an annoying Australian accent and from how many times you caught different girls taking a walk of shame out of his apartment, it's safe to say that he's the number one fuckboy in the area
So how dare he say all of that stuff in the elevator when he doesn't know anything about you at all? Moreover, what does a fuckboy like him know about relationships?
It shouldn't be hard to ignore because it's something you usually do but gosh, the memory of the conversation still vexed you a few days later.
Then it hits you that it bothers you so much because deep down, you know what he said is true. You've been wanting to break up with your boyfriend and hearing that comes from someone outside that relationship only solidified that thought.
There's nothing wrong with your boyfriend, Lee is nice, too nice even, and when you think about it, maybe that is the problem, he is too nice and that leads you to another problem, you don't know how to break up with him without hurting his feelings.
But you know who can help you with that? Someone who has a lot of experience in breaking up with people.
Oh, what a joy that you find the answer right across your door!
Before you get to ask for his help though, you're fully aware that there's another thing to do and there's no other way to do it but walk up to his apartment, knock on his door, and apologize.
As you're standing there in front of his apartment door, you're dreading it. All sorts of thoughts crossed your head like why did you have to be so riled up that time in the elevator? Why did you have to say that thing about the panties? Just why? Ugh!
Let's just get it over with, you mutter inside your head.
With hesitant hand, you knock on his door and then hold the urge to turn around and run back to your apartment. You let yourself take a step back as you wait for him to come for the door.
Do not open the door, do not open the door, you chant inside your head while tapping your foot against the floor. However, things are not always going the way you want.
The door swings inward and a second later, Chan appears with disheveled hair and he only has one arm in the sleeve of his t-shirt, then you spot a girl's shoes next to his feet.
Oh no, please don't say you're coming at the wrong time.
You reflexively take another step back but he grabs your forearm and then opens the door wider, showing you that there's a girl there.
"It's my neighbor, she's here to remind me about the tenant meeting," he says to her.
The girl looks at you rather suspiciously and crosses her arms together in front of her as she glares at Chan.
"No. Don't you dare try to get out of this, Chris!"
"But it's true. We have to leave now," Chan says, then gives you a look that tells you to lie along with him, "Right?"
Running a quick assessment of the situation, you're certain that Chan is trying to get himself out of it to avoid having a difficult conversation with the beautiful lady. You hate to be the accessory to his crime but if this means that it would help you earn his forgiveness...
"The pigeons!" You make up a lie on the spot.
"The pigeons are ruining our rooftop garden so we held this urgent tenant meeting," you add with what you hope is a convincing smile.
"Oh, those damn pigeons!" Chan heavily sighs with a phony expression.
The lie makes your throat dry and your cheeks hurt from forcing a smile, you have to keep it going as the lady considers whether to believe that the tenant meeting is true or not.
Chan grabs his jacket from the clothes hook and puts it on, "We'll continue this later, okay?" He says to her.
Without waiting for her answer, he gets out of the door and drags you with him to go to your apartment. Once both of you get inside, he immediately closes the door behind him and lets out a long sigh.
"Oh, wow!" He exclaims once he realizes that he's inside your apartment.
He allows himself further inside and leisurely walks around your apartment, checking your kitchen, trailing his fingers on your book collection on the shelf, and observing the potted plants lining up on the window sill.
He walks back to the middle of the room and takes another 360-degree look around the apartment, then nods in approval.
"So, this is what the inside of your apartment looks like," he says in a cryptic tone.
Not sure if he wants you to respond to that or if should respond at all. You choose to remain silent and only respond when his intentions are intelligible.
Chan then sits on the sofa, making himself comfortable, and looks at you, then at what you're holding in both hands.
"Is that for me?"
The jar of cookies you've been unknowingly holding in your hands is a token of apology and it is for him.
"Yes, it is for you," you say, handing it to him with both hands.
"I'm sorry about the other day," you sincerely apologize, but you know you have to let him know what you're apologizing for, "for what I've said to you. I'm terribly sorry."
"Well, since you're helping me with the uh... situation," he coyly says as he scratches his eyebrow, "consider us even."
See? That wasn't so hard. You feel bad for lying to the girl but at least, you've been forgiven.
"Thank you," you add with a smile.
Chan doesn't say anything else but opens the lid and takes a cookie out of the jar. He gets comfortable on the sofa, sitting slumped with his legs spreading wide, and then he takes a big bite of the cookie.
It doesn't take long for him to notice that you have something else to say to him other than an apology.
Before he gets to it, you force yourself to start speaking.
"So, Chris..." you call, then abruptly stop talking. You suddenly have a second thought about asking for his help.
"What's up?" He asks while chewing on his cookie.
It's at the tip of your tongue but your mouth feels like they're sewn shut. You clasp your hands together and muster up the courage to just blurt it out.
"Do you want something to have with the cookies?"
You swear you plan on asking for his help but somehow, your mouth saying a different thing.
"Milk would be nice," he answers.
"Milk. Yes, I have milk," you awkwardly say, slowly making your way to the kitchen like a walking dead.
You take a carton of milk from the fridge and while pouring it into a glass, you're scolding yourself for being so cowardly.
After taking a moment to take a deep breath and muster up the courage to ask, you walk back to the sofa with the glass of milk in hand. With a smile, you hand it to him.
"Thank you," he says, his eyes catching something in your eyes.
You immediately break the eye contact and take another step back, standing and watching him finish his third cookie then wash it down with a sip of milk.
"I hope you don't mind that I'm going to stay here until the girl leaves my apartment," he informs.
"Oh?" You meekly gasp.
"But I can leave if you're uncomfortable," he says as he sits straight on the sofa.
"No, it's fine," you shortly reply, "Take your time."
"Okay, thanks," he says, reclining back on the sofa and continues munching on the cookies.
You can't decide if he stays longer than you expected is a good thing or not. You use the opportunity to reconsider it and walk to the kitchen to get out of his sight.
"Do you need help or not?" You quietly ask yourself as you pour yourself a glass of water.
Why is it so hard? He's right there. All you need is to go and ask for his help.
The water sloshes out of the glass as you fill it too full and you reflexively back away to avoid getting water all over the front of your dress.
"Everything good there?" Chan asks in a slight panic.
That's it! Enough time has passed from overthinking it! You walk up to him and just do it.
"You're right," you blurt out, "I've been wanting to break up with my boyfriend."
Sensing that it turns serious, Chan slows down his chewing and puts away the cookie jar. You expect the I-told-you-so grin on his face but no, he looks saddened instead.
"Things aren't working out," you openly share with a sad sigh.
You take a seat on the ottoman facing the sofa and sadly sigh, "I've been wanting to break up with him for a week now but I just don't know how."
"How long you've been dating each other?"
"Three years," you answer.
"Wow," Chan lowly gasps in awe.
Three years is not a short time, he understands why you hesitate to break up and it isn't an easy decision either.
"I need your help," you hopelessly say, unintentionally becoming vulnerable in front of him.
"My help?"
"Help me how to break up with him," you further explain.
"Of all people, why me?" He asks in utter confusion.
It's hard to answer that without being rude, you decide to let him process the question until it leads him to the answer. After a while, he lets out a dry chuckle and nods, "Okay, yeah. Make sense."
Chan takes another minute to accept the fact that his help is needed because he knows how to break up with someone without feeling awful about it afterward.
"I guess you want to let him down gently?"
"Yes," you answer.
"Well..." he inflates his cheeks then lets the air out through his pursed lips, "You can break up with him through a text."
Which part of 'let him down gently' did he not understand? How is it a good idea to break up through a text? But okay, it's just one suggestion, you give him the benefit of the doubt for now. Who knows he'll come up with better suggestions.
"I'm sorry. No, I can't do that," you kindly refuse his suggestion.
"You can send it when he's sleeping," he adds.
Oh, God! He gives you an even worse suggestion instead of better ones. You know what? This is a bad idea and you regret asking for his help.
"I don't—" You stop yourself from talking and get up from your seat.
"I'll just check if the lady is still..." Your words trail off as you walk towards the door and check through the peephole first, then you get out of the door to check his apartment next.
"Hello? Excuse me?" You shout from the doorway but no one is answering you.
You take it the lady has left and walk back to your apartment to deliver the news to the rightful owner of the apartment.
"She already left," you tell him.
Chan lets out a sigh and closes the cookie jar, he finishes the milk to its last drop and then gets up from the sofa.
"Thank you for the cookies and the milk," he says with his signature grin.
"No worries," you reply, trying so hard to hide the disappointment in your voice.
Chan holds the cookie jar in one arm and takes a step closer to you, "if you need help on how to write breakup texts, I'm just across the hall," he says.
You don't respond to that but keep a smile on for him as to seem polite.
"And good luck!" He says with gentle pats on your shoulder.
The second he walks out the door, you collapse onto the sofa and dread it even more than before. Turns out, asking for his help is not helping at all.
The next day, you meet him as you collect your mail in the lobby and it's hard to ignore him when his mailbox is next to yours.
"G'day!" Chan greets you as he leans the side of his body against the wall while sorting his mail.
"Good day!" You respond and hurriedly walk toward the elevator. You push the button to summon it to the lobby and hope it comes soon enough for you to avoid talking to Chan.
Of course, things don't go as you want it. He comes just in time for the elevator about to arrive, he crumples a few letters in his hand into a ball and then tosses it into the trash bin.
"How did it go?" He asks.
"Pardon?" You nonchalantly respond.
Good thing that the elevator chimes open and you can pretend to forget about what he asked you a while ago. You get inside while clutching your mails in hands in front of you but it's not safe yet as you have to share the elevator ride with him.
"So... the break-up texts? Did you do it?" He asks again, going to the corner of the elevator and leaning his back against it.
"Chris, I think you can't just end a three-year relationship with a text," you put it as nicely as you can.
"Yeah, I reckon," he innocently answers.
It seems like Chan can't tell the difference between what is easy and what is right. It isn't a good idea in the first place to ask for help from someone like him who doesn't consider other people's feelings except his own.
"What are you going to do then?" He asks, shifting his weight on one leg.
Since his help is not helping at all, you have no answer to that yet. This should be something you have to figure out on your own in the first place.
"I'll figure it out," you not-very-convincingly answer.
Chan crosses his arms in front of him, making the muscles and veins on his arms more evident under the fluorescent light of the elevator.
"Lee seems like a nice guy," he remarks with a deep inhale of air.
Well, if you have to compare your boyfriend to Chan, then yes, Lee is a really nice guy. Lee excels in a lot of things, including how to treat a person with feelings.
"Yes," you settle with a simple answer.
"A drawn-out break up is only going to end in a big scene," he says, "Just saying."
Chan has a point. It's worse to prolong the pain for both you and Lee, you can't keep pretending that the relationship works and it's unfair that you keep Lee oblivious about all this.
"We can practice, you know," he offers.
"Practice?"
"On how you're going to break up with him," he explains.
He comes up with a better suggestion this time and is almost endearing even but again, he wouldn't know how a person with real feelings reacts to a break-up which makes you unsure if the practice would be any help.
The elevator is about to arrive anyway so you decide to skip on responding to his offer. Once it chimes, the doors part open and you take the first turn to get out with Chan getting off after you. You turn to the left to your apartment while he turns right. You take the key out of your pocket to unlock the door and push your way in while clutching your mail close to your chest.
"You know where to find me if you need help," Chan says just before you close the door to your apartment.
Hard pass, you answer in your head but you put on a smile for his kind offer, then close the door
-
Okay, you admit it. You were too haste when you said that you didn't need his help. You were doing fine for these past few days, you've been avoiding meeting your boyfriend to give you some more time to think of the best way to break the news to him until he calls you.
The phone rings and you just stare at it, considering whether to pick it up or not. If you pick it up, that means you have to lie to him and if you don't, it'll alert him that things are, in fact, not okay.
The latter seems like a better idea so you pick it up after taking a long, deep breath.
"Hi, baby. Am I calling you at the wrong time?"
Not entirely wrong but it would be nice if he didn't call you, you answer in your head.
"Yeah, sorry, I was in the bathroom," you lie.
"Coconut shrimp for dinner. What do you think?" he asks out of the blue.
"That sounds nice," you easily respond.
"I know you'll like it but, babe, do you mind getting us a bottle of wine on the way?
"I'm sorry?" You ask in confusion.
"For our dinner, remember?" he answers, "I'll cook tonight we'll be having dinner at mine."
You hardly paid attention to him because your mind was always elsewhere, you couldn't remember saying yes to the dinner but you did and it must be out of pity.
"No, of course, I remember, I'm just..." you rake your brain to think of something to say.
"I thought it was next week," you lie again with an awkward chuckle.
"You silly!" Lee says, "Aren't you glad that I called, huh?"
"So glad," you lie, again and again.
"I should start prepping the ingredients so they'll be ready when you get here," he says, his voice exuding enthusiasm.
"Okay."
"Don't forget the wine!"
"I won't."
"I can't wait to see you, baby," he sweetly says.
The lies are piling up so may as well add another one to the pile, "Me too."
"I love you, bye."
Don't think you can lie your answer to that, you gulp air, "Bye," you say to the phone, then quickly hang up.
Desperate times call for desperate measures and you don't know your desperate measure means knocking on your neighbor's door. Probably because you hate to admit that you need his help.
Not long after, Chan opens the door and his head pops out from the gap, "What's up?"
"My boyfriend just called and tonight, we'll be having dinner in his place," you blabber in panic.
It takes a second for him to process it then his face turns a little surprised, "What are we going to do then?" He asks in confusion.
You may be in dread but you catch the error in his question, "We? Now, you got your panties in a twist," you tell him.
"Shame on you!" He responds with a sly grin then opens the door wider and shows himself dressed in nothing but a white towel hanging low around his hips.
He puts one arm against the doorframe and leans close to you as he says, "Cause I'm not wearing any panties right now."
You should have noticed it from his wet hair and the beads of water rolling down his neck, and now that you're seeing the whole of it, your eyes immediately following where the beads of water going, they're going down the outline of his abs and eventually, to where they're all gathered as his pelvic bones leading down to one way: down south.
However, your instinctive reaction goes against what you're actually feeling inside.
"Ugh!" You groan and turn to the side, "Put some clothes on and I'll see you at my place!"
Without waiting for his answer, you rush back to your apartment and close the door behind you as fast as possible, then you rest your back against it.
The images of his naked body flashing through your head, his glistening wet pale skin, and how some parts of his body are blotchy red around the neck and chest. You get flustered all of a sudden, you immediately press the back of your hand to your cheek and you can feel them heating.
"Get it together!" You scold yourself.
After waiting for almost fifteen minutes, Chan finally comes knocking on your door like it's a musical instrument.
"Are you dressed?" You ask with your hand on the doorknob.
"Hardly," he jokes.
You peek through the peephole and see that he's already dressed to what you can say is his usual attire of dark short pants with a matching sleeveless top, showing off his bulging biceps. You open the door to let him in and he coyly walks in, treating your place like it's his own, sitting on your sofa with his legs spreading wide.
"Okay, so, why am I here?"
You stand in front of him with your hands clasped in front of you, "I've been lying to him the whole phone call and honestly, I've been doing it since the moment I decided that I want to break up with him, and I... I don't think I can lie to him again."
It's easy to admit your mistakes to him because he barely knows you and his opinions about you won't matter that much to you.
"I need to do it tonight," you hopelessly say.
"I take it you need my help to practice your break-up speech?"
You hate that he guesses it right but it's also convenient that you don't have to beat around the bush to ask for it. But first, you try to explain the situation as much as possible so he has ideas on what you're facing here.
"Lee is a man of many emotions and I'm not exaggerating when I say he'll likely cry," you inform.
Chan's forehead wrinkles as he processes this piece of information then stifles a nod. It seems like he still has no idea what you want him to do about it.
"I think it's less painful if you acknowledge the dumpee feelings," you blatantly explain.
"Okay, I got you. Let's practice!' He says, sitting up straighter on the sofa and then putting his hands on his knees.
It's just a practice but your anxiety takes over you not just mentally but also physically as your palms get sweaty. You wipe them down your jeans and take a breath.
"Lee," you call him by your boyfriend's name, and even though it's weird that you're roleplaying, you continue, "I want to break up with you."
Chan looks at you and gets quiet for a moment, "Wow. I'm in utter shock and it makes me very sad to hear that," he says with a rather serious tone.
Not the kind of reaction Lee would likely pull off but that will do if you decide to continue with it.
"I'm fully aware that this is so sudden but I've been thinking hard about it for some time and I think this is a decision that I should take," you say and you know it's a practice but you feel something caught in your throat.
"I'm sad and I need time to process it, but I'll be okay," he calmly says.
Chan gets the tone right but you believe breaking up wouldn't be this easy in real life, especially when there are real feelings to protect. To be honest, you're not ready to face the truth that you may hurt those feelings tonight.
"I think that went very well," Chan says, returning to his default settings.
"Yeah, I think that's it," you meekly say.
The worries and sadness are drawn on your face that Chan can easily see through your veiled expression, "If Lee is as nice as you said he is, then you shouldn't worry much," he says.
He waits until your eyes meet his to continue, "He may get surprised or shocked even, but he'll come around and respect your decision."
You can't believe that those words are coming out of his mouth or that he even tries to comfort you, but you appreciate it. Maybe his heart is still there, he just doesn't let it control him most of the time.
He gets up from the sofa and walks up to you, he takes your hands, ignoring how cold and sweaty they feel in his, "You got this," he assures you.
"Thank you, Chris," you sincerely say with a sad smile.
It is time to stop torturing both you and Lee with lies and forcing yourself to believe that the love is still there. It's time to accept the truth that if you can fall in love, you can also fall out of love.
-
It's a surprise that Chan worries about things that aren't his business. He's been playing some music to distract him from his head but he keeps the volume low because he doesn't want to miss hearing the sound of the elevator that will tell him any signs that you're back from the dinner.
Eventually, he tires himself out from worrying and falls asleep on the sofa. He startles always close to midnight after hearing the knocking on his doors.
Half disoriented, he trudges his way to open the door and finds you there, surprisingly, looking nice in a white cotton dress and your eyes dry.
But from the way you let yourself into his apartment, forgetting your impeccable manners and walking with shoulders slumped and carrying your shoes in your hands, he takes it that you did it.
"So... how did it go?" He carefully asks, following you as you're making your way to the sofa and then sitting on it.
You let a heavy sigh and your shoulders slumped even more, "At least, there's no crying," you answer with a sad smile.
Chan is unsure of how to react to that, is that a good thing or a bad thing? He just stands there with his arms crossed on his chest, thinking out loud.
"And even though it was ending... it was incredibly meaningful to me and I'm going to miss him," you say with your lips trembling.
Oh, no, Chan knows when a girl is about to cry, he quickly finds a remedy to it, one that he knows always works wonders for him. He runs to the kitchen and brings a bottle out of his alcohol stash, then hands it to you.
"Let's have a drink!" He says, realizing that he forgot the glass.
"Wait another second, I'll get the glass," he says, sprinting to retrieve two glasses from his kitchen cabinet.
When he returns, he sees that you're chugging the alcohol straight from the bottle. You gasp and then wince from the bitter aftertaste of it.
"Okay, straight from the bottle it is," he says, popping onto the sofa next to you.
You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and then hand the bottle to him in which he wastes not another second to take a sip of it.
"The thing is... I really care about him but he wanted to get married, and I'm just not ready for that," you share with your eyes blank and looking at the void.
You take a deep breath but it seems like it only sends your heart sinking deeper and deeper, and making it harder for you to breathe.
"And if I'm not ready with a guy as great as him then what if I'm never ready?" You say, turning your head his way with your eyes glassy, pooling with tears.
"What if that was it..." you lift your shoulders then drop them as you let out a low sigh, "my one chance at love?"
The tears start streaming down your face like a bursting dam and Chan knows he can't do anything about it but let them out.
Hearing your words makes him think about what his idea of love is. He used to think that it was something he could get whenever he wanted it but now he knows that he's wrong, because that's just a short-lived infatuation, just some sort of meaningless connection.
From you, he learns that love is a privilege that not everyone can experience.
"What if I never get a second chance?" You ask him the question that he doesn't know the answer to.
"I don't know. I'm just sad," your voice cracks, then you break into tears.
Chan is quick to catch you into his arms and offers you his embrace. He knows he can't do anything about this sadness but he can try to soothe the pain, he's placing gentle rubs on your back as you cry into his chest.
The cry is resounding in this space, echoing the sadness back to you and it makes him inexplicably sad too, and he gets the urge to make it stop.
"It's going to be alright," he murmurs at the top of your head.
You look up with your eyes wet and red with tears caught in your lashes, "Is it?" You croak.
He doesn't know when but he knows for sure that time heals everything.
"It will be," he answers with a gentle caress of his knuckle on your wet cheek, "eventually."
Your eyes tell some more assurance for him and he doesn't know what drives him to do it, but he leans in, then kisses you.
To his surprise, you kiss him back and he knows you're doing it because you seek his comfort and he wants to give you exactly that. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, giving you that closeness you seek. He kisses you ever so softly because he knows he's kissing a broken heart and he wants to mend it. He can taste your sadness and the bitterness of it, and also the relief underlying all of it. As he kisses you, he lets his heart open just enough to take some of that sadness away from yours.
As the kiss deepens, the sadness withers, and something else emerges. Chan loses in it for a bit until he realizes what you're trying to do with your hand that reaches for the front of his jeans.
He abruptly detaches his lips from yours and shakes his head, "No, we can't do this," he says.
As much as he fancies you enough to have sex with you, he knows better not to do it when you're not in your right mind and your judgments are clouded with sadness. The last thing he wants is you waking up in the morning full of regrets.
"I want this, Chris," you croak.
"No, we can't," he adamantly says and takes your hand away from him.
"You're sad. You do want this," he says in an effort to put some sense into you.
You roughly crumple the front of his t-shirt and pull him close, "I want– No, I need this, Chris," you say to him with your eyes dark like two bottomless pits.
"Please?" You plead as a tear rolls down from the corner of your eye.
This is the most hopeless he ever heard of you and it breaks his heart. You said it yourself, you need this and he knows what you mean by that. You need the distraction, you need him to take this pain away even just for a fleeting moment, moreover, he can't break what's already broken.
He takes your hand off of his clothes and puts it in his, he leans in until his forehead is pressed against yours.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asks once again.
"Yes," you answer without a beat.
That's all Chan needed to hear, he inhales air and puts an inch between your faces. He then tenderly holds your face with both hands and looks at you, unsure where to start but maybe, he can start by making those tears coming out of your eyes.
Chan dabs the tears pooling in the corner of your eyes with his knuckle and without the slightest of hesitancy, he places a gentle kiss on each of your closed eyelids and before you can open them, he captures your lips in a kiss.
Sex is not something new to him but Chan knows that this time is not about physical fulfillment, but a way to offer comfort and hopefully, to also mend your broken heart.
He takes his time to strip away every piece of clothing on you until you're bare, lying on the bed with nothing but sadness that fills your heart.
He touches you with utmost gentleness, using just his fingertips to feel the softness of your skin and you're so pliant, sensitive to his touch.
To make it fair, Chan takes his clothes off as well before joining you on the bed, caging you in between his arms and hovering only inches away above you.
"Touch me," he says to you, taking your hand and placing it on his shoulder.
He then glides your hand down his neck and chest, he makes you feel every inch of his pale skin with him. However, when he looks at you, your eyes remain on his.
"You feel so warm, Chris," you lowly mutter.
He brings your hand close to his mouth and kisses it, then crashes his lips on yours.
The gap between your bodies becomes non-existent as you keep pulling him close, he relents by lowering himself on top of you and props an elbow against the mattress to not put his whole weight on you.
Lips locked, hands around each other, bodies pressed together and the temperature keeps on rising in the room. Chan makes you feel every part of his lips brushing and gliding over yours. He skillfully parts your mouth open with his tongue so he can kiss you deep and hard, yet slow until you run out of breath.
At the same time, his hand makes its way down until his fingers land on your delicate flesh. He touches it tenderly, running his fingers between the folds, and drags them upward to rub on your bundle of nerves.
"Ah..." you moan against his lips as you curve your hand around his neck and pull him incredibly closer.
Judging from it, he knows he's doing it right and he should continue, he applies gentle pressures on your clit, making you drenched and that way, he can slowly put a digit inside of you.
You let go of his kiss to let out a moan and your head falls onto the pillow as he puts another digit into you, two fingers pumping in and out of you.
Chan intently watches as your face contorted along to the pleasure, how your jaws slack open and breathless moans keep spilling out of your parted mouth.
The way you clench around his fingers makes him impatient to feel you and how tight you feel around him, and the noises you make oh, they're his new favorite tune that he wants to keep listening to until his eardrums burst.
He glances down as he pulls his fingers out of you and finds them thickly coated with your essence, it doesn't stop him from shoving them into his mouth and lick them clean.
Chan holds you by the chin to keep you still as he kisses you, "Give me a second to get a condom, yeah?" He says to you and you nod in answer.
He makes his to the bathroom and pulls the drawer open to take a condom. To save time, he decides to put it on right away, he tears through the foil packet with his teeth and rolls the rubber down his hard length.
On the way out, he catches his reflection in the mirror and gets reminded that this is not about him. Tonight, it's all about you.
He returns to the bedroom, finding you still lying in bed naked and hugging yourself. He climbs onto the bed and lowers himself on you, letting you absorb his body heat to warm you.
Craving for another taste of it, he goes down and plants his mouth on your cunt next, tasting you right on his tongue.
You're squirming as his tongue laps over your wetness, drinking in on your essence and then using it to circle on your clit.
He's not the only one getting impatient and asking more of it, you both want it and there's no wasting time anymore. Just before he takes it to the next part, he places a long, tender kiss on your clit and immediately brings his mouth to yours again so you can taste yourself on him.
"I'm going in, mmh?" He says as he endearingly brushes your hair away from your face.
You hold on to his shoulder as he settles himself between your legs, aligning his cock with your entrance but before that, he rubs his length between your folds, lubricating it with your essence.
Your hands fly to your chest, hugging yourself again as you lowly moan to his hard length rubbing over your clit and then, pushing its way into you.
"Goodness fu—" he can't even finish his sentence without breaking into a satisfied groan.
It's just the tip but he can already feel how tight you are around him, he's scared yet excited to push more of him into you. He reorganizes his breathing and rests his hand on your abdomen to do it.
Chan looks down to check and he still has a little more of him that needs to be inside you, he sharply inhales air through his nostrils and pushes the remaining length in one quick push.
"Oh..." you breathlessly moan as you're squeezing on your breasts.
Chan allows himself to take a moment to adjust himself to being inside you and you seem to also need time to adjust to his size because you feel so incredibly tight around him. It makes him wonder how this little thing can take him so well.
He takes your hands away from your chest and puts them around his shoulders, that way he can put his body on top of you, lips locked with yours again in no time as you wrap your legs around his waist, sending him deeper inside you.
As he takes a breath in between kisses, you hold his face and look at him with a different kind of sadness in your eyes which only reminds him that his initial plan is to make it go away.
He starts thrusting into you, wanting to fuck this sadness out of you. He wants to make you think of nothing but how his cock fills you full and how good he is fucking you right now, and soon, he's going to make you feel nothing but immense pleasure.
"Ah... ah... ah..." you moan for every thrust going into you and the skin-slapping sounds echo along with it in the room.
Chan plants his mouth on your breasts to contain his grunts and groans while keeping the steady motion of his hips pulsating against you.
A hand reaches for his chin and forces him to look at you, instantly engaged in eye contact with you. He continues thrusting into you with eyes looking deep into you, they're no longer looking like bottomless pits, they look like deep oases that he wants to dive into.
The next thing he knows, Chan finds himself deep in you, not just physically but also connected with you in a way that he's never experienced with anyone else until now. He feels barer than he already is and instead of shutting himself off, he embraces it and lets you in.
Soon enough, he finds himself lost in it and fully connects himself to you in a way that lets him know how it feels to love without fears or insecurities holding him back, without worrying if it's being reciprocated or not, to love wholly and completely.
"Oh," you let out a broken moan and that's when he notices that you break into tears again.
Chan abruptly stops moving, afraid that something he does is hurting you without realizing it.
"No, keep going, keep going," you tell him with your voice hoarse.
He needs to make sure to continue, he cups your jaw and asks, "Are you okay?"
"Yes, please, keep going, please," You repeatedly nod and plead with your teary eyes.
He wants you to stop crying, he wants you to stop thinking about what hurts you and start to see him as he tries to take this pain away from you. His body picks up the pace, going impossibly fast and also taking himself close to his high.
Your eyes are screwed shut, your breath is ragged and your hands are gripping onto his shoulders, overwhelmed by the pleasure that he brought on you.
The moment he's sure that you already come to your climax, he allows himself to let go and uses all of his strength to give you a few more thrusts until there's nothing left in him but waves of pleasure that wash over him.
"Chris..." you softly call and then pull him for a chaste kiss on his lips, "Thank you."
Chan's face hovers only inches above you as he softly gazes into your eyes, you look so fragile and open like a wound and he's just glad that he can make your heartache gone even just for a while.
"Shh..." he stops you from talking by running his thumb over your lips and then kisses you with his heart wide open. He lets this beautiful feeling pour out of him and into you.
"No, thank you," he mutters his gratitude between kisses.
Thanks to you, he experiences something he's never felt before with someone else, something new, something pure and real, something that feels a lot like love.
When he wakes up in the morning and finds you're not there, it hits him that maybe it is love but Chan is not ready to admit it yet.
-
A week passes and Chan hasn't seen you ever since that night.
He can't tell if you're avoiding him or needing the space and time to piece yourself back from the break-up, he hopes it's the latter. Gosh! Let him be right.
Regardless of what happened, he can live with the fact that you despise him but it would be sad to know if you choose to go down the path of believing that you're not going to find love again.
Chan just needs to know if you're doing okay, that's what matters for now.
Fortunately, the two of you have been neighbors for quite a long time to learn your routine and knockabouts. He knows what you like to do on a Saturday morning, he goes to the lobby and chats with the concierge as he waits.
At the first sight of you entering the apartment building, his heart palpation, and in all honesty, he's just so happy to finally see you after a while.
Are you not seeing him there? Or you're just pretending which only confirms his initial thought that you've been, in fact, avoiding him.
You're walking through the lobby carrying a bag of groceries in your arm, you skip checking on the mailbox and go straight to the elevator. It just happens that the elevator is vacant and the doors slide open after you push the button.
Chan decides to take the risk, sprinting to get into the elevator before the doors close. You already despise him so a little more hate shouldn't be a problem to him.
"Morning, sunshine," He greets you with his dimpled grin.
"Good morning," you politely reply without looking at him.
Things are going back to normal and he should be glad, right? At least, you're back to your usual settings of looking stoic and acting polite, and the best thing about it is you're still talking to him.
"I should learn to avoid people from you. You're good at it," he pushes it a bit just to see if he can crack through this facade.
"Excuse me?" Your head turns his way and with your eyes widen, "I have not been avoiding anyone."
Chan holds the urge to smile for successfully getting your attention and rests his back against the cold, metal furnace of the elevator, "Are you sure?"
"Well, we're seeing each other now," you tell him.
"That's because I know you like to go to the farmer's market every Saturday morning," he says at the same time, admitting that he knows about your routine.
You slowly turn your body facing him and squint your eyes at him, "You've been keeping tabs on me?"
"It's my favorite pastime activity," he shamelessly answers then pokes his cheek with his tongue.
"It's better than watching porn," he playfully adds, something that he knows will annoy you the right way.
"Ugh!" You groan as you look straight ahead.
Oddly enough, that's what he misses the most about it, interacting with you and seeing your reaction to his antics, but you, especially.
"Don't be so uptight," he coyly says.
He takes a step closer to you and puts his hand on the handlebar, "it's not like we haven't slept together or anything."
You let out a scoff and hoist the strap of your grocery bag higher on your shoulder, "I'm shocked you even remember," you say.
You turn your head next and your eyes immediately lock in a gaze with him, "I figure I'm just a low notch on a very long bedpost," you add.
"Are you calling me a man whore?" Chan says, feeling offended.
You take a step closer to him and daringly stare back into his eyes, "I didn't call you a man," you answer with a sly smirk.
There's a few seconds of silence until Chan realizes what you just said to him but you know what? He's going to give it to you, for now.
He looks at you and smiles, "Touche!"
You both look at each other and at the same time, burst into laughter, and it keeps going until the hilarity subsides with each passing second.
Is this real? Did you just poke fun at him with a beautiful smile on your face? Did you really laugh and the sound of not only echoing in this enclosed space but also in the back of his mind? Did he just see a different facial expression on you? Either way, he likes it and he likes how it makes him feel.
The elevator chimes open and soon, the doors part open. He lets you get off first and then takes his turn after, he gets a little disappointed as you both are going in the opposite direction.
"Hey, Chris," you call as he's only a couple of steps away from the door of his apartment.
His heart palpation again but he keeps his calm and then slowly, turns on his feet to face you, "Yes?"
"I'm cooking curry for dinner and I know it'll be not as good as the one you always ordered but you can come and..." your hand is fiddling with the strap of your grocery bag as you speak but your eyes remain steady on him, "see if it suits your taste."
And did you just invite him for dinner? Him, the neighbor you despise so much?
Chan acts coy and scratches the back of his head, he holds the urge to answer right away. He has a reputation to uphold and he reckons, you have to at least wait a minute for his answer.
"Yeah, okay, let's see," he nonchalantly answers but his smile tells otherwise.
You crack a laugh and nod, walking to your door with the keys jangling as you're unlocking it.
Chan thinks that's the end of it until you call his name again, his heart leaps this time and he almost flies his way to you.
"Yeah?"
"Don't worry, I'm not going to ask you what are we," you say with a smile then get inside of your apartment.
That's funny because, after that night, he was hoping that you would ask him that as most girls do but that's where he is wrong, you're not most girls, you are his neighbor whom Chan is secretly in love with.
-
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why does my roommate have such dogshit taste in tiktoks
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reyalvr · 5 months ago
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SHE’S MINE | 00
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CATCH ME, I’VE FALLEN IN LOVE FOR THE FIRST TIME.
synopsis ┊ thrust into the spotlight, ken sato had easily become the next big thing tokyo had seen in decades. alongside his fame came the inevitable string of rumors, of which sprung forth scandals and discrediting information against his image. of course the obvious and most rational solution would be to address them like every other celebrity, but this was ken sato; nothing would ever be rational with him, which is how you wound up with a ring on your finger and the sato name in your papers.
genre ┊ fake dating, fake marriage, idiots-to-lovers, friends-to-lovers, mild angst, chaotic fluff, smut
pairing ┊ ken sato x fem-PA!reader, ken sato x fake-wife!reader
warnings ┊ mild cursing, eventual smut, mentions of alcohol, all events in ultraman: rising take place a year after kenji moves back to japan, RUMORS isn’t related to anything that happens in this series
word count ┊ 798
author’s note ┊ YAY i finally wrote it! i really love the fake dating/marriage convenience trope and i’ve been itching to write it with kenji. this is highly inspired by one my favorite books of all time, terms & conditions by lauren asher! if you enjoy fake dating i highly recommend reading it. as mentioned at the top, this is only the prologue! i'll be putting out part one and the series masterlist asap hehe... as always, happy reading!
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SOMETIMES YOU WONDERED IF ANYTHING YOU SAID EVER STUCK WITH KEN. For the past year and a half, you had the supposed “dream life” that every assistant yearned for. It confused you, really, as you tried to ponder on what part of your job was envious. Were the late nights drafting NDA breaches so desirable? What about the press statements after altercations, were those résumé worthy? You let out a deep sigh as you watched Ken from the TV in his dressing room, crossing your arms as you sunk deeper into the couch.
He was on a press tour for his latest collaboration, his overconfident persona charming everyone left and right. You had to physically stop yourself from rolling your eyes when he used his signature flair to charm the show’s host. At least he was sticking to the script… for the most part. He wore the product, threw in a few adlibs, and of course, flirted. Be it a talk show host or a random photographer on the street, Ken always found a way to leave people smitten with him- save except you. 
It’s not like you were actively trying to hate him, he just made it so easy. At first you thought it was just some awkward phase, like he was just trying to adjust to working with a new team. But then he just kept doing the same things over and over again. A brawl with an opposing team member? Just another Sunday night. A rumor about having a fling with yet another supermodel? Sounds just about right. 
“I mean of course I have to thank my team,” Ken’s voice cut through your train of thought. “It was a dream of mine to play for the Giants as a kid, now I actually get to do it.”
Tone it down, asshole. You thought to yourself, noting the sarcasm laced in his words. Of course the general public wouldn’t have caught on, but you had no doubt his coach and the other players would. Then again, he’d been relatively untouchable because of his rank in the sports world. You poked your tongue into your cheek, shaking your head as you sat through the rest of his interview. The clock on the wall counted down the remaining time, the bright red numbers casting a reflection on the screen. Two minutes left, and all he had to do was to keep the act up…
…Until he didn’t. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what was about to happen next. 
“Now I don’t want to hold here any longer, but you know I have to ask it,” The host teased, almost like an overexcited child ready to tattle. “Any special someone back home?” 
Ken chuckled, just like he usually did when asked the question. “Cheeky question,” He paused and grinned, his eyebrow raised slightly as he shrugged his shoulders. “What if there was?” 
“Well, is there?” The host pushed, his tone eager to have the Ken Sato answer such a juicy question. He gestured toward the crowd before he continued. “I mean there are a lot of fans here today who would love to know more…” 
“Yeah? And if I said yes, then what?” He replied, his smile growing brighter and his eyes shining. 
The crowd cheered even harder, itching to find out the truth. You shared the same sentiments, trying to figure out what the hell Ken was up to now. Did he have a girlfriend? If he did, why didn’t anyone know about it? You stood up straight now, your right hand deathly gripping the remote. What the hell do you have up your sleeve, Kenji Sato? Your inner voice seemed to yell as you waited for him to speak up. 
“I mean only time will tell, yeah?” The host replied, leaning back in his seat. “C’mon Ken, it’s not nice to keep secrets.”
Ken mimicked the host’s moves, leaning back into his sofa chair as well. He shrugged his shoulders, licking his lips as he fiddled with his fingers. He bit the inside of his cheek, and though it was brief you caught it. You knew that look; his look of contemplation. Your grip on the remote was still taut as your breathing seemed to quicken the longer he waited. Granted it was only a few seconds, but those seconds felt like hours. 
He tilted his head slightly then, his eyes staring directly at the camera. It slowly zoomed closer to focus entirely on him, and he let out a small laugh before he finally replied. His gaze was strong, and it almost felt like he was actually looking at you.
“Yeah, yeah I do.” He finally said, throwing in a lovesick smile for good measure. “And she’s the best damn thing in my life right now.”
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rhaenyratargcryen · 4 months ago
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you're my shotgun lover and i want it all | tyler owens (twisters)
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masterlist ❈
summary: Every once in a while, the two of you will get a little too drunk, stay until last call, sneak back to your motel room, and fuck. Nobody knows – at least you don’t think they do – and you never talk about it when you’re sober. Tyler will generally stay until you fall asleep, but he’s always gone when you get up the next day. Only once has he woken up in bed with you the next morning, and you’ve never made that mistake again. There isn’t a name for what you feel for him, you don’t think, and you can’t tell what he thinks of the arrangement. Clearly he likes it, or he wouldn’t be making eyes at you from across three people’s laps as you pull these peanuts from their shells. author's note: i...wrote this...in one.......single......afternoon. my fingers hurt anyway he's so hot i have had a crush on glen powell since 2018 (set it up supremacy) but this movie reawakened something in me. i should probably watch top gun now
pairing: tyler owens x f!reader word count: 9,123 (...oopsie) warnings/tags: pWp (with, y'all!), alternate universe: canon divergence, friends to lovers, friends with benefits
also cross-posted to ao3 okay love you bye xoxo your comments and reblogs are appreciated but not required i will love you all the same i hope u like !!!! <3
all characters are 18+ these are 18+ activities minors pls do not interact my eye is twitching as i write this 
It has been one hell of a week.
The tornadic activity has been off the charts – more storms built up under ideal conditions for weather hell-bent on destruction in a multiple-day stretch than you can remember ever tracking before. Your team had obviously been up for the chase, but now that the storms have passed, and the sun shines on the cleanup efforts, you can’t help but wish you’d chosen a different life path. You love what you do, but God, were you tired. Blisters have formed on the palms of your hands despite the gloves you’d donned. You could practically feel the knots forming in your neck. You shovel one more load of leaf litter before heaving the blade into the ground and leaning against it. Across from you, a backhoe is demolishing and excavating the remains of a house.
You close your eyes and try to just let the sun warm your face, thinking about how fast it can all just be gone. Mother Nature’s a beautiful force, but she can be cruel.
“Hey, don’t be slowin’ down on me,” Tyler jokes, clapping a hand between your shoulder blades. You hadn’t heard him approach, and his voice has startled you, pulling you from your thoughts. “We’re ‘bout halfway done with our part, I think.”
“No,” you reply, swiping the back of your arm across your forehead, trying in vain to clear your bangs from your eyes, but they won’t budge. Tyler reaches up and, almost as if he isn’t even thinking about it, takes the unruly pieces of hair between his thumb and forefinger and tucks it behind your ear, underneath the temple of your sunglasses, to make sure it stays this time. The action is so intimate it sends a flush crawling up your neck. You chance a look around to make sure no one else has seen. “Not slowin’ down, I promise. Just thinking about how lucky we are to be alive. How sad it is that all these people just lost everything.”
You’ve known Tyler since the two of you were in college together, fast friends who’d stuck together through a lot that could've put a strain on any other relationship, although you hadn’t studied meteorology – you’d been in school to be a librarian. 
One night, he’d asked you to stay up and help him with a lab he’d missed for one of his classes, and he loves to say he knew it then – that you were hooked – but you were too far along in your degree to do anything about it now. Switching from an arts degree to one in STEM? You’d have had to start over from scratch. 
Tyler had formed his team while you were in grad school and he was working as a cowboy for the rodeo back home, and you’d dropped out without a second thought when he asked you to be a founding member, to travel the country with him every tornado season. Said he wouldn’t – couldn’t – think about doing it without you. You’ve been riding with him ever since.
The two of you share everything, always have, and sometimes you wonder if it might be too much for the professional relationship you’re supposed to have.
“That’s what we’re here for,” Tyler grins, the hand still glued to your back rubbing gently, sending goosebumps across your skin under your shirt. “To help ‘em feel like their luck is turnin’.”
Always the optimist, Tyler Owens. He clears his throat, the hand on your back pulling away, and steps slightly closer to you.
“One of the folks over there gave these to me,” he says, gesturing to a group of people gathering in front of a house that looks like something had tried to suck it into the ground from dead center. “I saved their cat from their screened-in porch, poor thing had been yowling all night apparently. Know these’re your favorite, so, here you go. I think you earned it.”
You take the tin from him and open it, your mouth instantly watering at the sight of the small, round butter cookies inside. “God,” you groan, picking one up and taking a bite, savoring it over your tongue. You can feel Tyler watching you carefully. “Thank you. You get me.”
“Do we get cookies, Tyler?”
Lily’s voice sounds from your left, and you glance over at her. The shit-eating look on her face tells you she did see Tyler fix your hair for you. Your stomach somersaults.
“If you’re good,” Tyler says, smirking, “after the sun sets, we can head back to the motel, find some shitty bar, and drinks’ll be on me, okay? How’s that sound?”
Lily whoops, turning to Dani, who’d since appeared beside her, and the two snicker and fist bump. 
“You need any help over here?”
You look back at Tyler, cupping one hand above your eyes to shield them from the sunlight. Despite your glasses, it shines bright from directly behind him, and you can hardly stand to look at him. 
“Yeah, I’m good,” you murmur in reply, bending down to toss some siding that had been blown off one of the houses on this street into the wheelbarrow you’ve been using. “You should go see what Boone’s up to – I don’t think anyone has seen him in a minute.”
No doubt Boone was hiding somewhere with one of the breakfast burritos Lily and Dani have been rolling since early that morning, seeing how long he can get away with not doing his part. He’s a good guy, but the manual labor side of the job isn’t really his thing.
“Eh, he’s better off wherever he is,” Tyler laughs, and a small smile takes over your face, too. “Hey, you sure you’re okay? You don’t need a break? You can take a minute to yourself, no one’ll judge. I know how this can all get to you a little more than it gets to everyone else.”
You know him well enough to know he’s not calling you weak-stomached, that he’s genuinely concerned for how you feel, but he’s right. It does all get to you. Settling in to help survivors of these natural disasters is just something that comes with the chasing – there isn’t one without the other for you and the rest of the crew. You nod, glancing back up at him. 
“I’m okay, Tyler. Go off and be the face of the operation – you don’t have to worry about me.”
Tyler’s eyes narrow, his gaze shifting between your eyes, trying to find evidence you’re withholding the truth from him, but he seems to find nothing. With a minute tip of his head, he turns to resume working through a long-term plan for rebuilding the town with the mayor and some other members of the local government. 
This is something else you know he loves to do – shmooze with higher-ups, show off his people skills. Not only are they higher-ups, they’re small-town folk. His kind of people. He knows how to get through to them, how to get them to trust him. You love that about Tyler. He’s never condescending – he always has a genuine desire to help. He’s been through this hundreds of times, and these people may only have been through it this one time. You look around at them, at the people of all ages picking up the pieces that remain of their community, then cross your fingers and send a thought out to anyone listening:
Please let it be the only time.
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After a few more hours of genuinely back-breaking work, you hear Tyler’s sharp whistle and know it’s time, meandering over to his truck where it’s been parked for almost eighteen hours. Using your teeth, you pull your gloves from your hands and hiss. They’ve been rubbed raw, the skin blistering where each finger meets the palm. You try to ignore the throbbing sensation, leaning against the passenger side door and closing your eyes. The rest of the crew sidle up to you, taking long drags from water bottles and cigarettes and trying to make peace with how you’re leaving this place tonight.
“Does anyone else want to break off to shower first?”
It seems Dani’s the only one, and they shrug, putting their hand out, palm up, to Dexter, who hands them the keys to the RV.
“Meet y’all there,” they say, stifling a yawn, and you know it’ll be a bit before you see them. The rest of you will have to pile into Tyler’s truck, and before you can object, the other three crawl into the back seat and leave you on the front bench with Tyler. You let yourself in and close the door behind you, buckling and watching as Tyler shakes someone’s hand and hustles to meet the rest of you. His Texans cap hits the bench before he does, between the two of you, and he turns his keys in the ignition, buckling his own seatbelt.
“Where we headin’?”
“There’s a place with a mechanical bull nearby. I vote there.”
“How nearby is ‘nearby,’ Boone?”
“Uh,” he pulls his phone from his pocket, does a quick Google to double-check. “Forty-five minutes?”
Dexter leans over and grips Boone’s phone, reading the screen. “In the opposite direction of the motel, Boone.”
Everyone groans, objecting, and you press your hand against your temple to alleviate the pressure there. The noise, God, the noise.
“Could we go somewhere closer to the motel, maybe?”
“It’s got a mechanical bull,” Boone stresses, and everyone rolls their eyes.
“Boone, you know damn well we’re not making it back to the motel if we go that far away.”
He groans, and you pull your own phone out, checking Maps to see what’s around the motel.
“This one’s three minutes from where we’re stayin’,” you say, showing Tyler your screen, and he nods, shifting into reverse, backing out, and starting down the one lane of the street that’s been cleared of debris. 
“Hey Boone,” you toss over your shoulder as Tyler shifts into second gear. “By the way. Long time no see.”
Lily snorts, smacking you on the shoulder to let you know she thought that was a good one. Boone shakes his head. 
“Hey, just because you didn’t see me all day doesn’t mean I wasn’t out there, too. How do I know you were workin’, weren’t sitting on your ass in the shade somewhere, hm?”
You hold your raw, red palms out for him to inspect and that shuts Boone up quick. Tyler whistles as he gets an eyeful of your skin.
“God damn, girl,” Lily murmurs. “That looks like it hurts. I think I might have Aquaphor in my bag back at the motel if you want some.”
“I’ll be alright,” you reply, knocking your elbow against her knee behind you in thanks. “Appreciate you.”
The rest of the drive is taken mostly in silence, everyone in the backseat trying to rest their eyes, but you stay up, your eyes on the road, so Tyler isn’t the only one making the thirty-ish minute drive back to where you’re staying, where you checked in only after it’d been decided which towns had been hit the worst, so you could reach all of them easily by truck.
“What’s goin’ on in your head? Hm?”
You turn to look at Tyler and he glances at you from out of the corner of his eye, then at your lap, at the fingernails you’ve picked down to the quick. “Real quiet over there.”
“Nothing,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.
“Don’t let Boone get to you,” Tyler says, tapping his right fist on your thigh once, twice, then letting it rest there. You brush your knuckles against his and he opens the fist immediately, taking your hand in his but not squeezing, careful not to put pressure on the blisters on your palms.
“It’s not that,” you start, then realize your mistake, your admission. “I really – I think I’m just tired. It’s been a long week.”
You’re acutely aware of your hand in Tyler’s. It’s not like you’ve ever been shy around him – your cheeks flush at the thought – but this is…different. Sweet. More.
“Yeah, that it has,” he sighs, adjusting his left hand on the steering wheel so he can drive a little more comfortably, but his right hand stays in yours. 
You settle back into silence, Tyler seemingly having dropped the subject, and your eyes return to the road, but you feel him looking over at you, checking on you, every once in a while. You try your hardest not to meet his gaze. 
Soon enough, Tyler is putting the truck in park, then shutting the thing off. The noise – or lack thereof, you guess – wakes Dexter in the back, then Lily, who snorts when she sees your hand in Tyler’s. You pull away and unbuckle your seatbelt, watching as Tyler, with a hurt look on his face, wipes his hand on his jeans and swings himself down and out of the truck.
“C’mon, Boone,” he shouts, slapping a hand on the door that Boone has his head resting against, and the man sits up straight, wiping sleep from his eyes. “The sun hasn’t even gone down yet. Drinks on me, pal!”
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The motel really is that close to the bar, so you all decide you’ll leave the truck parked there and walk home at the end of the night. The unspoken verdict is that you will all be getting shitfaced tonight.
The lingering smell of cigarettes in the air seems to rejuvenate everyone and Lily pumps a fist when she spots the old-fashioned jukebox across the room, then claps a hand over her mouth when she realizes there’s a TouchTunes sitting right next to it.
“Oh, I am so forcing you fuckers to listen to Chappell Roan all night,” she says gleefully, and you laugh along with her, looping your arm in hers and letting her pull you across the room while the boys settle in at the bar.
“So what was that all about?”
“What was what all about?” You play dumb, shrugging when Lily gives you a hard look and unhooks her arm from yours.
“Girl, seriously,” Lily scoffs, bumping your hip with hers and slipping a twenty dollar bill into the TouchTunes. Evidently she wasn’t joking when she meant you’d be listening to Chappell Roan all night. “I saw that thing earlier, the hair thing, don’t think I didn’t. And y’all holding hands in the truck. What’s going on there?”
You shake your head but she grabs your wrist. “I’m serious, Lil. Nothing’s going on. We’re friends – good friends. He noticed I was having a hard time today, and wanted to make sure I was alright. That’s all.”
You can tell she doesn’t fully believe you, and when she opens her mouth to object, you cut her off.
“I’m gonna run to the bathroom, okay?”
Lily watches you, trying to read the small line between your eyebrows, but eventually she nods and lets go of you, letting you turn away from her. You push through the door to the women’s restroom, your nose wrinkling at the smell, but you ignore it. Standing in front of the sink, you watch yourself, hands shaking. This isn’t you. You’re better than this at shoving these feelings for Tyler down, way down – or, rather, you had been, up until this week broke you, apparently. Turning the knob for the cold water to the left, you let it run over your sore hands, hissing at the feeling. Carefully, you cup your palms and watch them fill, then splash the water onto your face, soothing the flush. There. That should help.
There’s a cold bottle of Coors in front of the seat next to Dexter when you arrive back to the group, “Red Wine Supernova” playing from the speakers. You almost snort at all the old men – regulars, no doubt – groaning out their distaste for whoever chose the music all across the room.
“Thanks,” you toss over your shoulder at Tyler, sitting on the other side of Dexter and Boone. He nods and nurses his own. You frown and settle onto the stool, leaning an elbow on the bartop so you can turn and face your friends. The cold beer against the palms of your hands feels so nice.
What’s wrong with him? He won’t make eye contact with you, and you notice his jaw clicking as he grits his teeth. What’s got his panties in a twist?
As the night unfolds, you find yourself laughing more and more, loosening up, letting the stress of the last week fade into memory. Someone has produced a deck of cards from God knows where and Dani – who did join the group eventually – is showing off card tricks you didn’t even know they knew. You feel a warmth spreading through your body, and you can’t stop thinking about how much you love all of these people. Your friends. Your family. Empty bottles are swiftly replaced with full, cold ones without notice, and everyone is languid, relaxed, unburdened by the work that you’re all doing.
You take a pull from your drink, using the cover of the bottle to risk a glance to Tyler three seats down from you to find that he’s already watching you, and the look in his eye tells you exactly what he’s thinking. That somersault-y feeling is lower than your stomach now. You’re only three beers deep, but the air in your head reminds you that you’ve barely eaten all day, so you’re a little more affected by the alcohol than you’d usually be. Impolitely, you reach across Dexter next to you to grab a handful of peanuts from the basket to his left.
Glancing back up at Tyler, you meet his heady gaze again, and he smirks around the lip of the bottle against his mouth. He knows he’s got you right where he wants you. You swallow nervously around another sip of beer.
Every once in a while, the two of you will get a little too drunk, stay until last call, sneak back to your motel room, and fuck. Nobody knows – at least you don’t think they do – and you never talk about it when you’re sober. Tyler will generally stay until you fall asleep, but he’s always gone when you get up the next day. Only once has he woken up in bed with you the next morning, and you’ve never made that mistake again. There isn’t a name for what you feel for him, you don’t think, and you can’t tell what he thinks of the arrangement. Clearly he likes it, or he wouldn’t be making eyes at you from across three people’s laps as you pull these peanuts from their shells.
“Alright, y’all,” Lily says, slapping a hand on the bar, startling you out of your thoughts. You watch her, popping a nut into your mouth. “Think I’m gonna head out. I suggest you all do, too, fuckers, it’s late.”
Everyone starts to protest, but one glance at the clock tells you you’ve all stayed much longer than you thought – it’s a quarter past midnight, and you’ve got to be up with the daylight. You balk, but if you want to talk to Tyler tonight, you know you’ve got to shoulder your exhaustion and stick it out a little longer.
“I think I might stay for a bit,” you murmur, watching everyone stand and gather their things. You glance over at Tyler, who you can see clearly now that everyone’s out of their seats, and he’s watching you, too. The look on his face reads plain, now – he wants you.
“I’ll stay with her,” he says, eyes on yours. The green in them has disappeared almost completely, you notice, his pupils blown wide. “Walk her back. Y’all head back if you want.”
“I might stay, too –” Boone’s voice cuts off, coughing as Lily elbows him in the stomach, maybe a little too hard. “What the fuck was that for?”
“You’re going to bed, too, Boone,” Dani interrupts, a hand on his shoulder, guiding him towards the door. They poke him once when he starts to protest. “C’mon, now.”
Everyone shuffles out the front, Dexter calling good night, and all of the sudden, it’s just you and Tyler. You don’t know why, but your palms begin to sweat at the thought of being alone with him again. He stands, palming his drink, and slides onto the seat next to you, his body angled towards yours.
He’s never made you nervous like this. You don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you.
“So,” Tyler starts, grinning at you. “You come here often?”
You snort, emboldened by the booze, and he chuckles in response. “Idiot.”
“God, but I do love making you laugh.”
You blush under his scrutinous gaze, and take a quick swig of the dregs of your drink, unsure what to say to that. He mirrors you, taking a sip of his own while his eyes bore into yours. Accusatory.
“You don’t do it much anymore, you know that?”
“Do what?”
“Laugh.”
You press your fingertips to your mouth and Tyler’s eyes follow your hand. “I guess I just haven’t had much to laugh about lately,” you start, sighing deeply. “Tornado season’s been hard this year, and you know how much that – it gets to me. As much as I love what we do. You know. Remember that family a couple weeks back whose daughter was stuck under her bunk bed when it pressed on her too long, lost her leg below the knee? That got to me, Tyler. It did.”
“It gets to me, too,” he murmurs, knocking his knee against yours. “I guess I’m just better at hiding how bad it affects me. You can talk to me about it, though. You can talk to any of us.”
“I know I can,” you breathe, trying to keep your hands from shaking. “I know. Sometimes I don’t know what to say, though, you know, what is there to say? It’s not fair to complain about how sad it makes me to watch these people lose everything.”
“You’re allowed to feel sad. And to feel frustrated. It’s not fair, you’re right, but we’re doing good work, yeah? Fighting the good fight. Figuring out what makes these things tick, how to warn people when they’re in the path, get them outta the way and safe. Maybe they lose their house, their car, but they won’t lose themselves, or each other. That’s what matters most. Just remember that.”
You look up at him, set your elbow on the bartop, and prop your chin on your open palm. Your hands don’t hurt so bad anymore, you notice. “Thanks, Tyler.”
“Anytime,” he smiles, but you shake your head. 
“Seriously. You always know what to say.”
A look crosses his face then, too quick for you to read, and he sets his drink down, flagging the bartender over to close out the team’s tab. You frown, wondering if you’d, ironically, said the wrong thing.
“What’s up?”
Tyler looks back to you, and this time, the look in his eyes is unmistakable. It burns. “Taking you home, sweetheart.”
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The walk back to your motel is done in silence. Tyler’s hand swings next to yours, and you feel it searching for yours more than once, but you don’t take it. You climb the stairs together, slowly, and he walks you to your door. His room is one more floor up.
You can tell he thinks you won’t invite him in, that you’ve changed your mind – or maybe that you never made it up. He hadn’t, after all, told you plainly that that was why he’d stayed with you at the bar. You unlock the room with your key card and step inside, opening the door only far enough for you to fit through it. You turn back to look at him, his face awash in the street lights shining into the hallway. You flip the lightswitch on next to you, illuminating the room behind you, too.
“Well,” he murmurs, making to head back down the stairs. “Good night.”
“Tyler?”
His head turns back to look at you, watching as you hold out one hand and he takes it, letting you pull him closer to you. You press yourself into him, push your whole face against his chest, your hip keeping the door from closing on the two of you. You inhale deeply, the smell of him overtaking your senses. His cologne, yes, but underneath that, the smell of dirt, earth. Home.
You feel his arms wrap around your back and you turn your head to the side, press your ear to his heartbeat. Your hands come up to scratch down his back and you feel it when he shudders.
“Stay?”
You hear his breath hitch in his chest, then the deep rumble of his voice as he says, “Alright, baby.”
With a short inhale, your eyes flutter, nearly closing at the term of endearment. You step back, pulling him with you, and as you close the door behind you, he pushes one hand up into your hair and pulls your head toward his.
“I, uh,” you whisper against his lips when they get close enough to yours, “I think I might shower first, if that’s okay with you?”
“Alright,” he murmurs, unlacing his hand from the strands of your hair before toeing his boots off and carefully setting them under the chair next to the front door. “You want company?”
You swallow. You’ve never done anything like that before. It’s always been quick. When you do this with him, you hardly ever have time for a chat before he’s got your shirt over your head and his mouth on your skin.
“Sure,” you reply. You feel him watch as you turn around and pull your shirt off, reaching back to unclasp your bra. The modesty feels redundant, but you can’t help it.
“Not gettin’ shy on me now, are you? S’not like I haven’t seen you naked before,” he chuckles, and you throw a look at him over your shoulder just as he’s pulling his own shirt over his head. He left his hat at the bar, you think. You’ll have to go back in for it when you pick up the truck.
“Tyler,” you scold, and he laughs at you, steps across the room to wrap an arm around your torso and press a kiss to where your neck meets your shoulder. The place he knows makes you melt. You sigh and push back against him, the feeling of his hard chest against your bare back a welcome one. This feels more like what you know, what you’re used to.
“Shower,” you remind him, and he nods, his forehead pressed into that spot now, and he pushes his fingers underneath the waistband of your jeans, running them along the bit of skin there around to the front, where the fabric splits at the button. He pops it undone, then uses his thumb and forefinger to grip the zipper and slowly – so slowly – pulls that down. He can’t help himself, you know that, and so you hold your breath and wait for him to push his hand into your panties. Ever a predictable man, he does just that, and you gasp at the feeling of his warm hand against you.
“Are you sure?” Tyler’s breath against your neck makes you shiver, and you press your ear to the side of his chin. He runs his fingers along the seam of you, finding first your clit, your legs twitching at the sudden rush of pleasure when he brushes his hand against it, then pushing down to find you wet and wanting. You cry out softly. “You don’t sound sure. You don’t feel sure.”
You hum, your neck stretching back until your head is pressed to his chest, and he pulls his hand back up to start working small circles on your clit, your wetness on his fingers allowing for smooth movement, with just enough friction to have you panting for more. 
“Sounds more to me like you kinda want me to fuck you with my fingers.”
“Tyler,” you whimper, telling him with just his name that you are getting close. He smiles against the side of your neck, pulling his hand away and shoving your jeans and underwear down just enough that his hand has room to smack your clit lightly. You squeal, right leg kicking out at the feeling, and he continues moving his hand in circles to soothe the hurt.
Your breath is coming out of you in short huffs, and before you can come, Tyler takes his hand off of you and wraps it around your stomach to join the other. You pant and whine, rubbing your thighs together to chase the feeling he’d had you practically pressed up against, now ebbing with the loss of his fingers.
“You said you wanted to shower,” he whispers in your ear, pulling your panties back up, and you scowl, pushing away from him. He laughs and holds his hands up in defense as you pick your t-shirt up off your bed and crack it at him like a whip. “Let’s shower, baby.”
“I might kick you out right now, Owens,” you snark, but the small smile on your face gives you away, and Tyler unbuttons his own jeans, leaving them in a pile on the floor at the end of the bed. Your jeans join his, and you’re both left in your underwear.
“You wouldn’t,” he replies, pulling his briefs off slowly, biting his bottom lip as you watch him. “You like this cock too much.”
You can’t help laughing at him, but the sight of him bare in front of you does have you biting your lip. You step forward to cup his growing length in your hand. Before you can move it, Tyler puts a hand on your wrist.
“How’s your hand?” He makes to pull it away, presumably to turn it over and appraise your blisters, but you shake your head.
“S’fine,” you whisper, tightening your grip. You tug once, twice, and press a kiss to his bare chest, then tip your head back to search out his lips. He leans down to oblige you, his lips parting against your mouth as you twist your fist. You love these moments you share with him, when you’re both bare, physically, emotionally, away from the real world, and you can pretend this is an everyday thing. When you’re not trying to tell yourself you feel nothing for him. Like this is just how it is between you.
Tyler groans when you pull your hand away from him and you click your tongue, press that same hand against his bicep.
“Doesn’t feel so good, now does it?”
Before you even know what’s happening, Tyler is picking you up, one arm underneath your back and the other around the backs of your knees. You look up at his face and laugh. “Put me down, Owens!”
He grins and carries you the few paces into the bathroom, placing you on your feet in front of the tub. Tyler leans down and pushes his thumbs underneath the waistband of your panties, waiting for you to put your hands on his shoulders and step out of them.
He lets you pull away from him to turn the hot water on, adjusting the cold side until the temperature is perfect, before pulling you against his chest once again. This time, you can feel his hard cock pressed against your backside, and you hum appraisingly. You reach behind you to fist him again, but he shakes his head – you feel his chin brush against the top of your head – and he groans out, “Mm-mm.”
“What?”
“We’re gonna shower, baby, c’mon.”
You glance back towards him and watch as he flicks the overhead light on. “So we don’t slip and die,” he says, and you laugh, pushing the shower curtain to the side. Holding Tyler’s hand, you step over the lip of the tub and under the steady stream of warm water, inhaling deeply when it hits the sore muscles in your shoulders and back. Tyler groans at the feeling, too, when he steps in behind you.
“Here, switch with me,” he murmurs, guiding you by your waist until you’re the one underneath the water. You let it fall onto the top of your head, over your face and down the back of your hair, for a moment, eyes closed, relishing the feeling. Tyler reaches both hands up and brushes the water out of your eyes, runs his hand over the top of your head. 
“Shampoo?”
You open one eye, the other shut against the water, and nod. You gaze up at him, heart squeezing at the way he’s watching you. His smile widens and he takes the tiny bottle in his hand – it looks even more comically small now – and dumps the product into his other palm, setting the bottle down onto the edge of the tub and rubbing his hands together.
“Turn around.”
You do as he asks, inhaling sharply through your nose when you feel his hands run through the hair at the crown of your head. Your stomach aches with longing as you register how unnaturally intimate this is. His fingers feel so good against your scalp, which is slightly sunburnt, you’re now realizing. He massages the shampoo further into your hair, running his fingers down the back of your neck and across the tops of your shoulders. When he’s satisfied with his shampoo job, he steers you by your arms to face him again, then carefully helps you tilt your head back and rinses it all from your hair.
You watch him pick up the other small bottle from the shelf, warm water still running down the back of your head. 
“I’ll do my conditioner,” you murmur, taking the bottle gently from his hands. “It’s a – it’s a science.”
“I am very good at science, if you can recall.”
You laugh, shaking your head. “It’s something I’ve gotten perfectly right. It’ll take just a sec.”
So you work the conditioner through the ends of your hair, avoiding his gaze as he watches your hands first coat your hair in the product, then rinse it out. He reaches forward to run his own fingers across it, as gently as he can.
“Hm,” he makes the noise in the back of his throat, pulling his hand away. “Soft.”
You can hardly look at him, the twisting feeling in your stomach shifting to something warmer, something further from apprehension, something that feels a lot like want. “You?”
Tyler shakes his head. “I’m good. Here,” he says, rubbing his hands across the plane of your upper back. “You’re tense. You worked hard today. Let me help.”
You weren’t going to protest, but before you can, Tyler guides you forward and out of the direct spray of the shower, then presses his thumbs into your muscle. You groan, your head falling forward onto his chest at the feeling, and he chuckles at you, continuing with his hands. “Feel good?”
“So good,” you whimper, and you feel his cock twitch against your stomach.
“You fucking dog,” you joke, and Tyler laughs against you, pushing your hair off the back of your neck and pressing his thumbs in there, too.
“Hey, what can I say? I like making my girl feel good.”
You freeze. His girl? His girl. He hasn’t noticed your reaction, and he keeps pressing his fingers into your sore muscles, pulling one hand away briefly to push the showerhead down and away from the two of you. You glance up, already missing its warmth, but you find that the steam rising around you is doing a good enough job at that.
“Here, baby,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead and guiding you to press your hands against the tiled wall to your left, running his hands down your back.
“What are you –”
Before you can finish the thought, you feel Tyler’s fingers parting the seam of your cunt from – from behind, and you groan at the feeling of his middle finger slipping inside of you.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” he groans, his knees hitting the floor behind you. You toss a glance at him over your shoulder and your own knees nearly buckle at the way he’s looking up at you – with hunger, and with reverence, and with something else entirely unrecognizable. He looks wild. He looks in love.
One of Tyler’s hands clamps down around your hips and he leans forward, pressing a kiss to the back of your thigh as his finger starts to shift in and out of you. You shiver and push your face into the cool tile, groaning softly when he finds that rough bit of flesh inside of you, the one that makes you come undone if he works it long enough.
“Yeah?” Tyler sounds fucked out already, his voice breathy against your skin, and you can picture the look on his face, the concentrated expression he gets when he’s trying to make you come. You try to focus on the feeling of the shower’s spray where it hits the edge of your foot rather than how good his finger feels inside you because if you think too closely about how good it feels, you’ll get lightheaded. And nobody wants that.
“Yeah,” you reply weakly, and for a few minutes it’s just like that, the only sound in the bathroom the shower, your panting moans, and the noise your pussy makes as he pulls his finger in and out.
“Sound so good for me, baby,” he says, pressing a kiss to the back of your thigh again, and you whine, trying to protest when he slips his finger from you. He laughs deep in his chest and lightly smacks the swell of your ass.
“Don’t complain when I’m doin’ somethin’ nice for you,” he jok, and you can feel then that he’s shifting himself around. You want to look over your shoulder, want to see for yourself what he’s doing, but freeze when you feel his palms cupping your ass, his nose pressing against the inside of your thighs.
Your mouth forms the word oh, but no sound comes out until you feel his mouth press against your cunt, tongue pushing inside of you, and then you cry out, chest heaving, when he presses a sloppy, wet kiss to your clit. You pull your face from where it’s still resting against the tile and look down at Tyler to find he’s already looking right up at you. His grip on your ass tightens when you make eye contact with him, and he spreads you open wider for him, eyes narrowing as his tongue flicks again, and again, and again.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” he moans against you, the vibrations causing your legs to twitch. You already thought you were going to burst, the steam from the shower, the way he’d washed your hair, the fact that he was in your room at all – it all made you feel slightly insane. To add insult to injury, he’s just pushed two fingers inside of you and immediately found the spot that takes you out, and you start to shake a little.
“Tyler,” you whine, pushing one hand down to grip his hair. He groans when you tighten your hold on it, fucking into you a little faster. “Tyler, fuck, gonna come.”
“So come, baby,” comes his reply, and you do, you come so hard that the toes on your right foot curl until you’re on tiptoe and Tyler has to reach up and grip your waist to steady you. You feel it crest, and peak, then subside, but he keeps working you through it, his mouth moving against you still, and a second, smaller – though still good – orgasm wracks your body right after the first.
You breathe through it, push your foot down so you’re standing flat on the surface of the tub again, and wait for Tyler to pull his fingers out of you. 
“Baby,” Tyler groans, squeezing your hips, his fingernails biting slightly into your skin. “You gotta let go’a me, if you want me to get up.”
His voice, fuck, his voice, you think, releasing your grip on his hair and turning to watch him rise from his knees, the tile cold against your back. You surge forward to kiss him square on the mouth and he catches you, smiles against you when you part your lips to taste yourself on his tongue.
“Was that good?”
“Yeah,” you breathe, pressing one, two, three more quick kisses to his mouth, before he reaches behind you to turn off the water. “So fucking good.”
Neither of you bother with a towel, instead opting to stumble toward the queen bed in the middle of the room and climb right underneath the covers.
“Hi,” you whisper when you’re settled in, the duvet pulled up under your chin. Your eyes rove over his face, then glance over to the alarm clock behind him. 1:56 in the morning. “You still wanna fuck?”
Tyler snorts, reaching over to poke you in the side, gripping the skin there until you start to laugh. “You still wanna fuck?”
“Yeah,” you reply, grinning, when you catch your breath. “Wanna?”
He’s quiet for a second, watching the duvet rise and fall with each breath you take, before he peels it off of you, using his elbow to push himself up until he’s leaning over you. There’s a rosy flush on your chest, your breasts heaving and it’s all he can do not to lean down and take one of your nipples in his mouth, the one closest to him. Instead, he runs the back of his other hand across your chest, catching against the hard peak, and watches your breath stick to the inside of your throat. You feel yourself subconsciously leaning toward him as his face comes toward you. You want him to kiss you, but instead, he angles his mouth to kiss the skin below your chin.
“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes against your neck, pressing his open mouth to you there, and you gasp at the feeling – of his mouth against you, and of his praise. It all feels so nice. He just made you come in the shower, and now he’s going to make you come in this bed, hopefully more than once. 
You wrap your hands around his back and pull him toward you, watch as he settles in between your thighs. You can feel his thick cock, heavy, insistent, where it presses against you, and you want to take him into your hands, but he has other plans. 
With one hand pressed into the pillow on either side of your head, Tyler uses his knees to knock your legs out further, sitting back against his heels when he’s satisfied. He wraps his big hands around your thighs and pulls you closer, smiling down at you. “You’re so beautiful.”
You blush when he repeats himself, suddenly feeling very bare. He’s just as naked as you are, but you can’t help but feel like he’s seen your whole hand, meanwhile you hardly have any idea what cards he might hold. In the dim light from the lamp beside your head, you notice that you can see the green of his irises again. It seems like the shower sobered the two of you up very quickly.
His gaze locked on yours, Tyler takes himself into his hand, groaning at the pressure of his grip after neglecting his own want for so long, but he suddenly curses, pausing just as he’s about to press inside of you.
“What?”
“I don’t have a condom,” he breathes, sitting back again. He runs one hand through his hair, visibly weighing the options.
“It’s okay, Tyler,” you murmur, leaning up onto your elbows. “It’s okay. I have an IUD, and I got screened after the last time I was with someone. I’m good. I’m good if you’re good.”
Tyler heaves a heavy sigh, running his hands up your thighs. “You’re sure? I’m clean, too, cross my heart. But only if you’re sure.”
You nod. “My head is clear. I think I shook off my drunk an orgasm or two ago.”
A grin crosses his face, and you roll your eyes at him before he even opens his mouth. Two? he mouths, then whistles lowly. You smack his stomach, and he grabs your wrist in his hand, lightning quick, pressing a kiss to the pulse point there. Your jaw falls slack, and you go all soft and pliant, letting him pin your hands above your head. His body comes down over yours, and his mouth presses to your cheek, then your forehead, and when your eyes flutter shut, the ghost of a kiss crosses them, too.
“I’m gonna fuck you so good,” he murmurs, and normally if a man were to say that to you, you would immediately regret letting him into your bed. But for some reason, when Tyler says it, it sends that familiar warmth spiraling down into your gut. You know he means it.
Slowly – too slowly – he guides himself back to your entrance, shifting his hips so they’re resting comfortably against yours, and he presses himself inside of you. You hiss; the girth of him, although a welcome stretch, is also a bit of an uncomfortable one. He leans down to kiss you, working you through it with a thumb pressing circles into your clit, sliding himself in bit by bit until he’s fully seated. 
A groan pushes out of him when you clench around him, testing the waters.
“Careful,” he murmurs, easing his hips back. “I’d like it if this lasted longer than ten seconds, please.”
You laugh against the side of his head, pull your hands down from where he’d left them above you and wrap yourself around his shoulders, pulling him flush against you. Tyler grips your thighs and starts to work himself in and out of you, carefully, gently, but you squeeze his waist with your knees. Encouraging him. Asking him to pick it up. You can handle it.
His hips start to pull back and snap against yours quicker and quicker, Tyler panting in your ear, lifting up onto his palms and pushing himself off of you. He sits up onto his knees and tilts your hips up for a different angle, one that sets sparks dancing in front of your eyes. You groan, head tossed back, and dig your nails into his thighs as his pace picks up.
“Fuck, yeah, that it, baby? I can feel you – fuck, feel you squeezin’ me.”
You hardly have a voice with the rate he’s slipping in and out of you, barely enough to squeak out, “Fuck,” before your cunt has him in a vice grip, working through another orgasm.
“Ohhh, that’s it, huh, that’s it.” His mouth is going a mile a minute, neither of you really paying much attention to anything he’s actually saying. You’re both focused on his own mounting orgasm – you don’t feel like your body is capable of much more than that – and you weakly clamp down around him once more. His eyes squeeze shut, his hips stutter, and he grits out, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck fuck,” before he slots against you and you feel him filling you. You run a hand down his back, soothing him as he comes, biting your lip at the feeling, foreign but enjoyable.
Tyler groans and glances down to where his cock is softening inside of you. He eases his hips back, cupping your face and pressing a kiss to your forehead as he does. “Shit, I’m sorry, are you okay?”
You nod meagerly, pressing the back of your hand against your warm cheek. He watches you and, assured that you’re not going to pass out on him or anything, stands and hobbles into the bathroom. The sink turns on out of sight, and you close your eyes, listening to the water run. Tyler returns with a warm, wet towel and wipes the inside of your thighs, swiping gently across your cunt, before folding the towel and letting it fall to the floor at your bedside.
You feel loose, calm. Safe. You hardly notice him turn the light off, but you do feel the bed dip beside you as he rejoins you under the covers and pulls you into his arms. You melt against his sturdy chest, his heartbeat under your face a comfort, the rhythmic tick tick tick of it lulling you to sleep. But there’s still one thing you have to know before you can relax completely.
His breathing has started to even out, but he hasn’t snored yet, so you know he’ll still hear you when you ask, “Are you gonna leave?”
He grunts an acknowledgement of your question, nuzzling down into the top of your head.
“Do you want me to stay?”
You know your answer, but you still bite your lip, considering the question. You hadn’t thought before that maybe he left after every night you spent together because he thought you didn’t want to wake up with him. “Yes.”
“Okay,” he murmurs against your hair, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Then I’ll stay.”
If he’s at all worried about what will happen when you wake up tomorrow, he doesn’t show it, but anxiety courses through you at the thought of anyone finding out. Does he want the others to know? Because that’s what it feels like.
“Stop thinking about it,” he whispers, like he can hear your thoughts racing. “It’ll be fine. Just go to sleep.”
Easy for him to say. He’s out like a light. And you’re left alone with your thoughts until you fall into fitful, dissatisfying sleep sometime around when the world outside starts to turn blue.
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A pounding on your door wakes you from deep sleep – the deepest you’d gotten all night, at least – and you try to sit up but find there’s a heavy weight on your chest blocking you. You rub the sleep from your eyes, glancing down at the sleeping body next to you. It takes a second for it to register: Tyler’s here. 
Tyler’s here. Sidled up against you, arm thrown over your stomach like this is where he belongs. He didn’t leave. He stayed, like he said he would. His face looks so peaceful – so beautiful – you almost hate to wake him.
“Come on, sleepyhead! Time to get a move on!”
Almost. You scramble to push Tyler off of you, ignoring his noises of protest, jumping out from under the covers and grabbing various articles of clothing off the floor to pull over your naked form. You plop back down on the bed, this time on his side, right next to where he’s starting to wake.
“Dude, get up, they’re gonna know you’re not in your room. They’re gonna know you’re in here.”
“So what,” he grumbles, rolling over as you push him and settling deeper into the bed. “Let ‘em.”
You sit up straight, one hand on his arm. “You mean that?”
He hums and turns his neck to glance at you over his shoulder. “Yeah, ‘course I do. You’re my girl.”
Your face flushes a deep pink and Tyler grins, reaching over to wrap an arm around you and drag you back down into the bed, pinning you under him and peppering an assault of open-mouthed kisses all over your face. You grin, thinking that you could get used to this – just not right now.
“Seriously, Tyler,” you laugh, pushing a hand against the side of his face. He squeezes your hip. “We have to get up. We gotta get back out there.”
Tyler sighs, loosening his grip on your body and kneeling over you. “Yeah, you’re right. Alright, alright.”
He stands and takes the top sheet with him, wrapped around his waist, and heads to the bathroom. To brush his teeth, you hope. God.
“You know,” he says, head popping back out into the room, mouth full of toothpaste. “Yesterday. I wanted them to see us holding hands.”
You watch as he smiles at you and disappears back into the bathroom, then fall back onto the bed, hands pressed over your eyes. 
Fifteen minutes later, the two of you are dressed, teeth brushed, hair taken care of, day packs slung over your shoulder, and you’re pulling the door closed behind you when you hear a whistle that pulls your attention to the parking lot.
“Damn, Owens!”
The voice makes you jump, and you groan. You thought you were going to get away with the sneaking around, but the rest of your team is watching from next to the RV as the two of you descend the stairs together.
Lily and Dani turn to Boone with smug looks on both their faces, and he rolls his eyes and pulls his wallet from his back pocket. They hold their hands out for him to slap two twenty dollar bills down into.
“What’s that?” You ask when you get close enough to them.
“We had a bet that you and Owens would come out of that room together. Well, that one or his. Didn’t matter which.”
“A bet I just lost,” Boone groans, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I thought for sure…”
The rest of the crew snickers, including Tyler, who won’t look at you. You poke a finger into his chest.
“Did you know about this?”
“No, I swear,” he says, hands up, and you don’t know why, but you believe him. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t drunkenly confess to Lily weeks ago that sometimes we, you know…”
You scoff, almost mad, but then Boone shouts and the scoff turns into a snicker because, hey, you love him, but you can’t help but relish in his defeat.
“So they knew?! That’s cheating!”
He storms off while the rest of you laugh, Dani clutching their side and following him around the side of the building to try to make amends, trailing off, “If it makes you feel any better…”
Lily looks over at you, then at Tyler, a grin swallowing her face. “So, are you guys, like, together now? Or something?”
You look up at Tyler, who’s smiling softly at you, clearly deferring to you to answer that question. You feel a surge of affection for him swell in your chest. Clearing your throat, you turn to Lily.
“Or something.”
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nicoliine · 9 months ago
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About the times when Alastor touched you and when he expected you to do it back.
☆彡 How in the world does the radio demon, who doesn't really like physical contact, end up looking for any excuse to have his hands on you?
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 ☆ Reader is g/n; no pronouns or y/n are used.
☆ Warnings: not really. Does a mental breakdown count as a warning? Alastor is a warning itself yk.
☆ English isn't my first language, so if there's any mistake I sorry-
 
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You noticed that Alastor didn't like people's proximity when you first arrived at the hotel and he didn't even try to shake your hand. There, with your hand on the air, you stand waiting for his shake as you observe his ramblings about a whole different subject—not that you mind about all the weird souls that can be met in hell—watching him around the other hotel staff, you confirm it.
 
After a couple of days in the hotel and witnessing his power display, you made a mental note to not mess with him. That being said, you didn't really want to touch him.
You were a very touchy person, content to hug Pentious when you first saw him around in the morning or cuddle on the couch with Angel before he started to make a lewd comment about his job and you just ended up leaving him alone. Nifty seemed to enjoy being all over you, sitting on your shoulders while you were reading or just playing with your hair.
 
Another one who was happy about your touchy personality was Charlie, but she is just happy about everything.
 ☆◦•◦☆
It started a month from your arrival.
Alastor, being a self-proclaimed gentleman, didn't seem to be aware of your not touching Alastor rule, he started holding the door open for you then creating a shadow to lift up that heavy box that you needed to move, and you ended up—it was hard for you—just trying to move up your body away so you didn't end up too close to him, but he seemed to love your personal space so much.
 
One time, you were in the hallway, not really aware of your surroundings, until you felt an arm around your shoulders. When you heard his static voice, you froze on your steps, slowly turning your head to see him there, standing with that so-known smile of his. When he started to walk, still holding you, talking about that great idea for the hotel, you just couldn't pay so much attention. Your mind is running on thoughts about his proximity.
This wasn't the only time he ended up having you close to him; being honest, it seems to have a personal liking to your presence. You doubt he was like that before your arrival (as you already spoke with Charlie about it), but he could be found anywhere you were. If you ended up helping fix the balcony fence, he was there behind you—you're glad he's at least silent—or when you are in the bar just scrolling through your phone and he is watching you from the other side of the room, not wanting to be near your technology artifacts, is he just trying to drive you mad? Even though that look of his seems to be asking for something you don't know, you won't ask what it is. Just wait to see how it goes.
 
His touch soon became more frequent. You often end up with your own theory that it's something involuntary, like something he doesn't even notice by the way it feels, like deep in the end he just wants to be touched but don't know how to ask for it. But with that demon, nothing is sure; everything he does used to be planned. That's why you found yourself confused and don't want to test your luck.
 
When you are in the lobby in the middle of one of Charlie's activities and his arm ends up holding you by his side.
Or when he just kisses the back of your hand every time you first see him in the morning and every time he leaves, no exceptions, that confusing look of his is always there.
Just about that, your hands—he often takes your hands. While you are in the kitchen and waiting for the pasta on the stove, one of your hands is resting on the counter as you hold a recipe book, reading the next steps. He's by your side the whole time; one of his hands takes your free hand, making you pause your reading and look at him in surprise for the sudden action. He says nothing, and both of you are standing there in silence until you have to go back to cook. However, he doesn't seem to want to let you go yet because he will follow you as you move around the kitchen.
 
From them, it seems that everyone is aware of this weird Alastor thing.
Nobody talks about it though—you are surprised as they have stayed out of the subject, just making silent bets about the cause of this behavior of his—but you know it wouldn't take long for someone to talk about it.
 
 ☆◦•◦☆
The last time he put his hands on you, you were scared. So much has passed since the last time you felt this way. Anxious and terrified, everything around you was spinning; you had to run away from the hotel activities all day.
When Alastor found you in your room, you were a mess, all your stuff scattered around the room. You saw him from your seat in a corner on the other side of the room; the only candle in the nightstand seemed to be dead soon. He just stood there in front of you; you didn't even try to look up at him, just his shoes. You can tell so much about someone else by his shoes; his shoes seemed almost perfectly clean even after destroying his enemies. He's such a collected person that it scares you.
 
"Why, dear, would you look at me?" Alastor surely doesn't enjoy being ignored; you know that. You just couldn't find the strength to move when he spoke to you. It passed almost 5 minutes before you turned your head up, and he was so patient with you the whole time. "What is that troubling your mind, dear?"
 
You didn't respond right away; you're not sure how much time passed until you did it.
 
"It's just... everything." Your hands run around your face as you try not to have an attack right away in front of him. "I'm so scared, Alastor."
 
He just smiled; nothing was said; he didn't even try to touch your shoulder or hold you; he just smiled with that now so common smile of his, —you could swear it was the biggest smile you had seen on his face —one of his arms extended to you.
You have no idea why you did what you did; maybe he asked you directly, or you imagined it all, or his eyes showed what he wanted, or the candle in your room was one of Angel's drugs, or you just simply had a death wish. You don't know.
But you hugged him—just a hug—so hard that you could break his bones. When you took conscience about what you were doing, you tried to back down, not knowing how he could react to your contact.
But he didn't let you; his arm took you by the waist, and his staff was forgotten on the ground when he held your head against his shoulder.
 
You now understand why he always touched you. While you hands grabbed fists of his coat, he held you so tight, like it wasn't enough, and you just needed to be closer to him forever; he didn't want anything else.
So he did, he didn't let you go for a single moment that night; even when you were in bed, he held your hand the whole time. He just let you go the next morning when Vaggie insisted he needed to go do his job, even so he wouldn't forget to kiss your hand before he left. The ghost of his touch accompanied you all the time; it was like your body grew so used to his presence and his touch that you could feel it as a part of you.
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Touch Starved! Alastor folks!!! Alastor is such an interesting character to write! I want ro respect him so bad.
Likes and reblogs are appreciated 💞
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