#2 of my friends got him within 1 ten-pull wtf!!!!!

[uqb]

on that wuthering waves grind ....... 😃

[noona-clock]

I’ll Be Fine - Part 6

Genre: College!AU/Fluff

Pairing: Jae x You

By Admin B

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, The Great Cookie Bake-Off

“What are you-- ?!” you whispered, lifting your head and watching as he quickly but silently made his way over to your bed.

“I thought it would just be easier if we could actually talk instead of typing everything out,” he explained, lifting up the covers on the unoccupied side of your bed and sliding in underneath.

“That --” Oh, god, Jae was now in your bed. 

You had been about to say ‘That doesn’t make sense because actual talking makes noise and typing doesn’t,’ but the fact Jae was now lying in your bed next to you kind of turned your brain into mush.

“What’s up?” he murmured, turning to face you. “Are you too anxious to sleep?”

You blinked at him for a few moments, trying to wrap your head around this whole situation... but then you settled back down, turning on your side to face him right back. Just like the mistletoe kiss at the party, it was happening so you might as well just go for it.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, frowning slightly. “I’ve been trying to go to sleep for over an hour, but I just can’t.”

“Well, you just must not be tired then. We can talk until you’re tired, and I won’t leave until you fall asleep. How’s that?”

Oh, my word. The sweet, tiny little smile on Jae’s lips was enough to melt your heart, and you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling right back at him.

“I mean, you’re already here. I don’t want to be rude.”

Jae chuckled softly before reaching up and taking off his glasses. Instead of turning around to put them on the side table behind him, though, he reached over to put them on the side table behind you.

His warmth and his scent invaded your senses for just a moment, but it was enough to spark a very vivid image in your mind. An image of cuddling with him. His arm holding you tightly, your face buried in his chest, your arms curled up in-between you.

Truthfully, you couldn’t remember a time when you’d wanted to cuddle someone more.

Oh, this was not good.

“Your family seems nice,” he whispered, successfully breaking your thoughts of a major snuggle session. “Nosy but nice.”

“Yeah,” you replied with a somewhat awkward chuckle. Thank god he couldn’t read your mind. “I feel like I built them up to be overbearing and rude, but... they’re really not that bad. I love them, I just... wish they weren’t so hung up on the idea that you have to be in a relationship to be happy, y’know?”

“Yeah, I get it. Some people are just like that,” he pointed out. “Not everyone is as smart you.”

“Shut up,” you laughed softly. 

“I’m serious!” he whispered passionately, a huge grin pulling at his lips.

“Well, that’s a first. You’re hardly ever serious about anything,” you teased.

“Ha ha, very funny.” Jae reached under the covers to poke your side, and you swiftly swatted his hand away. “Really, though. Can I be honest about something?”

“Sure,” you replied albeit a bit hesitantly. You were a little nervous about the exact subject of this honesty...

“I’m really glad we did this. This whole fake dating thing.”

“...You are?”

“Yeah. Besides the whole Jamie thing and besides the whole family thing, I feel like... we’ve gotten closer as friends. I’ve gotten to know you better. And I’m really grateful for that.”

Were those butterflies in your stomach? Or maybe they were dragons. It was difficult to tell because your heart was beating so quickly you were having to focus on breathing normally.

“Me, too,” you whispered, somehow managing to sound like you weren’t all that affected by his words.

But, truly, you were grateful.

Before this, Jae had been the Meme Friend. The friend you could count on to go and eat with you any time of the day. The friend who played too many video games.

But now you knew you could trust him with your life. You could count on him for more than just company at meals. You felt comfortable around him (except for when he held your hand underneath dinner tables). You knew you could be yourself around him.

And you knew he would sneak into your room to talk to you if you were having trouble sleeping.

If that wasn’t a good friend, then what was?

Jae beamed over at you, and it almost seemed like he was about to reach up and touch your face. Or scoot over and pull you in for a cuddle-hug.

But, instead, he took a sharp breath in and said, “So, tell me about your favorite Christmas memory.”

Obviously, this was his attempt at tiring you out by talking, so you racked your brain for what you could classify as your favorite Christmas memory.

“Well, I guess it would be this one Christmas when I was in... second grade, I think,” you began.

You went on to detail the story of how you’d wanted a Barbie dreamhouse, but your parents kept telling you it was too expensive, too extravagant, your Barbies were content living in the cottage you’d built out of a cardboard box. You’d written to Santa for it anyway, but come Christmas morning, it wasn’t there. When you’d gone through your stocking, however, you’d pulled out a slip of paper which told you to go up into your playroom. Obviously, you’d raced upstairs and - lo and behold - there was your Barbie dreamhouse.

For years to come, you’d always used that story as an argument that Santa was real (because he is... duh), and you would be lying if you didn’t still believe in a little bit of Christmas magic.

Jae listened to your story intently, a goofy grin on his lips as you went on and on about how much you played with that dreamhouse. It was still the best Christmas present you’d ever received, and you were pretty sure you would remember that Christmas for the rest of your life.

You then asked Jae about his favorite Christmas memory, and it was your turn to listen to him with a goofy grin as he told you about the year he’d gotten a guitar.

“I had no idea you could play,” you said when he’d finished.

“I haven’t in a long time,” he admitted with a tiny shrug. “A few years, honestly.”

“Why did you stop?”

Jae scrunched up his nose as he thought, but then he just shrugged again. “I’m not really sure. I guess... To be honest, I stopped not too long after I started dating Jamie. It’s not like she wanted me to stop, I just... didn’t have time anymore, I guess. I don’t know.”

“You should start playing again. Bring your guitar back to school with you,” you urged.

“Yeah? You think I should?”

“I mean, if you want to. I would love to hear you play.”

“Maybe I will.”

The two of you ended up talking until almost 1am. The last thing you remembered was Jae offering to scratch your back; your blinks had become quite a bit longer than normal, and when he’d asked if you’d like a back scratch, you’d sluggishly turned onto your stomach. The soft, soothing feel of his fingers had lulled you to sleep within minutes.

Your grumbling stomach woke you up the next morning, as it usually did when you slept past the time you normally ate breakfast at school. But the first thing you noticed after opening your eyes wasn’t the fact you were hungry.

It was the fact Jae was still in your bed.

Last night, he’d said he wouldn’t leave until you fell asleep.

Well, apparently, he’d fallen asleep himself before he’d had a chance to leave.

Oh, god, this was awkward.

Actually, it wasn’t that awkward because he was still asleep (looking like an angel, at that). So you got out of bed with painstaking slowness, not wanting to wake him up and actually make things awkward.

You managed to step into your slippers and open the door without rousing him, and when you made it downstairs, you found your dad was making pancakes.

“Morning, sunshine,” your mom greeted as she poured herself a mug of coffee. “Cutie pie is still sleeping?”

“Oh my god, mom,” you murmured, your cheeks warming considerably. You slid into a chair at the kitchen table and promptly broke into a rather large yawn.

Your mom carried her mug over to the table to sit with you, sipping at her beverage before beginning with the third degree. “So, are you two serious?”

“What? I don’t know, mom, it’s been less than a month.”

“Well... why did you bring him home if you’re not serious?”

Your brow immediately furrowed and you looked at your mom with an absolute ‘WTF’ expression. “Really? Do you not remember Thanksgiving?”

“Thanksgiving?” your mom repeated, utterly confused. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“You don’t remember how often you and everyone else in this family asked me if I had a boyfriend?”

“Wha --”

“It was the main thing I told all my friends after getting back to school. I barely enjoyed myself because I was too busy dodging questions about why I was still single!”

“Well, honey --” your mom stammered. “We just want you to be happy!”

“I am happy! I mean, I was happy back then, too. I was happy before I met Jae, and I’ll be happy after we break up.”

(Sidenote: Yikes. Why did mentioning your break up with Jae form a small pit in your stomach?)

“I don’t need to be in a relationship to be happy, mom,” you continued, hoping your voice wasn’t loud enough to wake your sleeping fake boyfriend.

“I know that, dear, but... I mean, you can’t deny that you are happy right now. I think you seem happier even. When the right person comes along, your life just changes. Your perspective changes.” She reached out and put a hand over yours, her eyes warm and shining with love. “More than just being happy, I want you to find someone who accepts you for who you are and loves you for who you are. Because that’s such a precious thing, and you deserve that.”

“I’m still so young, though,” you pointed out. “I have plenty of time to find that person.”

“...You haven’t found him already?” your dad piped up, stacking the pancakes he’d been flipping onto a serving plate.

You didn’t answer that for very obvious reasons.

And, thankfully, Jae entered the kitchen just in time. (Though you could hardly make eye contact with him because you were wondering what he’d thought about waking up in your bed...)

After Jae had eaten about ten pancakes (much to your father’s delight since pancakes were his specialty), he announced he had to hit the road fairly soon. You both went upstairs to get ready, and Jae was all packed and set to leave within the hour.

Your parents thanked him for coming, your mom profusely so, giving him hugs and handshakes and inviting him back whenever he wanted to come.

“Y/N doesn’t even have to be here!” your mom chirped. “Just come on over if you’re ever in the area.”

“Mom, that is weird. Please don’t say that,” you pleaded as Jae bit back an amused chuckle.

Your mom simply rolled her eyes as you turned to open the front door and walk Jae out to his car.

“I know I already thanked you for coming,” you said after he threw his overnight bag into the passenger’s seat. “But, seriously. Thank you. Now I’ll only have to deal with questions about you instead of questions about being single.”

“I hope that’s at least a little more preferable,” Jae laughed, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck.

“Much, believe me,” you assured him with a grin. “So, my parents are most likely watching from one of the windows by the door... do you see them?”

You were currently facing away from your house, so Jae had a better view. You watched as his eyes scanned around, and it was very obvious when he spotted them.

“2 o’clock,” he murmured, giving away their position. So, they had almost a side-view of the two of you...

You hadn’t been planning on this, but you suddenly found yourself saying, “Kiss me.”

“Say what now?”

“A goodbye kiss! They don’t know we know they’re watching. If we don’t kiss, they’ll ask why when I get back inside.”

“Right, right, right,” Jae whispered. He stepped up to you, sliding his arms around your shoulders and first pulling you in for a hug.

You wrapped your own arms around his middle, squeezing him tightly and pressing your face into his neck. A soft sigh escaped your lips, though you hoped Jae didn’t really notice because your parents wouldn’t have been able to see or hear you sigh like that, so what excuse would you give if he asked about it?

After spending almost half a minute in this hug, you pulled your head away and moved to place a sweet, tender kiss on his lips.

Four days. It had been four days since you’d last kissed him, but it felt like four decades. It honestly felt like a whole other lifetime because that kiss had been in front of everyone and forced and rushed and awkward.

But this kiss was just the two of you. Kind of. Your parents were watching, yes, but they weren’t actually out here with you, so it felt like just the two of you. It was a kiss on your terms, not because of mistletoe. It was soft and slow and... natural. Even though it wasn’t.

“Safe drive home,” you whispered after your lips left his.

“Yeah,” Jae whispered back. “You, too. ...I mean -- not now. When you drive back to school --”

You let out a soft, whispering giggle before you stepped away from his embrace completely, giving him space to get in his car.

“Merry Christmas,” you called out just before he opened the door to the driver’s side.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.” He grinned at you one last time before ducking into his car and driving off.

For some reason, you were unable to wipe an incredibly cheesy smile off your lips the whole way back to your front door. In fact, it stayed on there as you went inside, as you trekked up the stairs, as you arrived in your bedroom.

When you flopped onto your bed, it was like the jarring motion of your body hitting the mattress quite literally knocked some sense into you.

Because you realized something which was now so earth-shatteringly obvious but also entirely problematic: you had a crush on your fake boyfriend. A major one.

Your Thanksgiving holiday had been ruined by your family, and now your Christmas holiday had been ruined by your boyfriend.

Your fake boyfriend.

Whom you had fallen for.

You couldn’t believe it.

Truly, you had definitely not planned on this happening.

But… apparently, it was happening. Of course. You wanted your fake relationship with Jae to turn into a real relationship with Jae, and it sucked. Because you couldn’t tell him!

Could you?

...No, of course, you couldn’t. When did confessions like that ever actually go well?

You let out a very long, deep, groaning sigh as you stared up at the ceiling of your dorm room, lying on your back on your bed. It seemed this was the position you were meant to be in after arriving back home from a holiday break.

You’d come back about a day earlier than most people, including your roommate, mainly because you’d wanted some time to yourself. Time to think. Time to try and unlike Jae.

The melodic sound of your ringtone cut through the air suddenly, and you jumped a little before reaching over to pick up your phone.

...Oh, great. It was him.

You answered it anyway, pressing your phone to your ear and hoping you would sound normal and not like you had a stupidly major crush on him.

“Hey.”

Okay, good. That was pretty normal.

“Hey, you,” Jae replied.

Oh, geez. Why? Why the ‘you’?! Why ‘hey, you’ and not just ‘hey’?!

“What’s up?” you asked as you moved to sit up.

“Are you back yet?”

“Yeah, I just got here an hour ago.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Wait, are you back?”

“No, I just want to know if you’re hungry. Don’t I always call you every few hours to see if you’re hungry yet?”

You held back a smirk, rolling your eyes playfully to yourself. So he was back.

“Dining hall, then?”

“Nah, let’s go to The Grill,” he suggested, referring to one of the local diner hangouts not too far from campus. “I’m dying for a burger.”

Actually, now that he mentioned it, a burger sounded absolutely divine right now.

“Ooh, okay, I’m game,” you replied, standing up so you could step into your winter boots.

“I’ll wait outside and we can walk together, yeah?”

“Sure, see you in a couple.”

By the time you pushed open the front door to your dorm building, Jae was waiting with his hands shoved in his pockets, his nose already pink from the cold weather.

“How was your Christmas?” he asked almost as soon as you got close enough.

“It was good!” you replied, falling into step next to him and heading off toward The Grill. You decided not to mention the fact you’d realized you’d fallen for him right after he’d left your house. “What about yours?”

“Pretty good,” he answered with a nod. “You didn’t get another dreamhouse?”

“No,” you sighed mournfully. “I guess my parents think I’m too old or whatever. Oh! Did you bring your guitar?”

“I did, actually.”

“So you’re going to start playing again?” you asked hopefully.

“I’m gonna try,” Jae chuckled.

You continued on talking about your holidays all the rest of the way to the diner, your hand constantly itching to reach out and take his. But the campus was fairly empty, so there was really no point in acting like a couple right now.

But when the two of you sat at the counter after arriving at The Grill, Jae suggested taking a picture so he could post it to his story.

“I mean, it’s been over a week since we’ve seen each other,” he pointed out. “I have to show the world how much I missed my girlfriend!”

Wow, how you wanted that to be true.

Jae got his phone out before the waitress had a chance to come and take your drink orders, stretching his arm out and leaning in toward you. He placed his chin on your shoulder, and you reached up to place your hand on his cheek. The both of you smiled happily, and when you looked at the finished product, you actually couldn’t believe how adorably cute Jae’s expression was.

He leaned back, adding some emojis and ‘reunited and it feels so gooooood’ and a location tag for the diner before posting it to his story.

Honestly, you were glad he was distracted for a minute because you needed that minute to recover from being so close to him and touching him and seeing his fricking fracking delightful, charming, cute-as-heck face.

“What can I get you?” a waitress asked, suddenly appearing in front of you. (Though, it probably wasn’t actually sudden. You’d just been too distracted to notice earlier.)

“Coke, please,” you answered. “And a cheeseburger with fries.”

“Make that two,” Jae chimed in. He looked up from his phone, flashing a grin at the waitress and thanking her as she jotted your orders down.

When she walked away, you nudged his side, a smirk pulling at your lips. “You got a crush on our waitress?”

“What?” Jae asked with a confused chuckle. “What are you talking about?”

“You were just smiling at her!”

“I was not!”

“You were. Like this.” You imitated his smile, though you admittedly made it a little more lovesick than his had truly been.

“Oh my gosh,” he laughed. “I was smiling to be friendly. I do not have a crush on our waitress, believe me.”

“Well, I thought she was pretty,” you shrugged.

“I mean, yeah, but it takes more than a pretty face to catch my interest.”

“Oh, it does?”

...No. No, no, no, no. You should not have asked that. You were treading in dangerous waters asking about what it took to catch Jae’s romantic interest.

“Yeah, it does,” he replied a bit defensively. “Besides. I already have a girlfriend, remember?”

You were about to ask just who that girlfriend was and why did you not know about her?! But then he reached out and tapped your nose with his index finger.

...Oh, yeah. He was talking about you.

“You’re a big nose-booping fan, aren’t you?” you pointed out, reaching up to gently swat his arm away.

“It’s cute!”

“No, it’s annoying.”

The two of you continued to playfully tease each other until your waitress brought out your orders, and then your mouths were otherwise engaged.

Not even halfway through your meal, though, and you heard the jingle of the bell above the door signaling the entrance of a new customer.

Even though you weren’t expecting anybody you knew to come here, you still glanced up to see who it was. It was human instinct, I guess.

You were glad you did, though, because your gaze landed on...

Jamie.

“Ex alert,” you mumbled, quickly averting your eyes.

Jae froze for just a split second, but then he put down his burger and moved his arm, placing it across the back of your seat. He leaned in closer to you, and when your gaze flitted over at him, you saw he was looking at you with those eyes. Even behind his glasses, you could see the love in those eyes.

It was heart-warming and heart-breaking all at the same time.

“She probably saw your story,” you whispered, picking up a french fry off your plate and feeding it to him.

“Is she sitting down somewhere?”

You glanced over his shoulder, seeing Jamie sliding into a booth. But she looked far too anxious and annoyed.

“Yes, but I doubt she’ll actually stay,” you murmured. “She looks super annoyed.”

Jae rolled his eyes because Jamie couldn’t see his face at the moment, and you bit back a giggle.

You watched as a waitress approached Jamie’s table, but Jamie simply waved her off, her eyes narrowed and a frown tugging at her lips. It really wasn’t an attractive look.

You continued to be super lovey-dovey, feeding Jae a couple of your fries, reaching up to comb his hair away from his eyes, gazing and beaming over at him. All the while, Jae’s arm lay across the back of your chair, his thumb gently rubbing your shoulder and upper arm.

“I think she’s about to leave...” you whispered when you saw Jamie scooting out of the booth.

Jae leaned in, pressing his forehead to your temple to try and finalize her departure.

“Is she still looking?” he muttered before he pressed his lips to your temple.

“No,” you whispered through your teeth, feeling your cheeks get warm at his touch. “She’s leaving, actually.”

When the door closed behind her, Jae squeezed your shoulder before bringing his arm back around and resuming eating his food. Resuming chattering and laughing and living life as normal.

Oh, god. You couldn’t tell him about your feelings. You just couldn’t!

You two were having a good time - you always did. And if you confessed your feelings, all that would be gone.

But… still. You knew if you kept quiet…

You would regret it.

You didn’t want to ruin this thing you had going because it was definitely working. And you also didn’t want to ruin your friendship with him.

But you couldn’t keep playing along. If you let yourself keep pretending, your heart would get seriously torn apart by the time you two “broke up.” And that just wasn’t fair to either of you.

You hadn’t known you wanted to tell him when you walked in here - in fact, you’d thought quite the opposite, but seeing Jamie made you realize you not only wanted to (even though you were super scared) but you kind of had to.

“Hey, Jae…” you began, your eyes fixed on the plate of food in front of you as you swirled one of your french fries around in your pool of ketchup.

“Yeah,” he replied before taking the biggest bite of his burger imaginable.

You let out a breathy chuckle, shaking your head as you waited for him to chew and swallow.

“What?” Jae laughed, reaching to grab a napkin and gently wiping something from the corner of your lip.

See?! It was things like that! Things like him wiping your mouth when you weren’t even pretending to be a couple which had made you fall for him. Things like him helping you put your glove on when you were holding hands. Things like taking your plate and carrying it for you in the dining hall. Things like walking you back to your dorm at night after playing video games. Things like coming into your room and talking to you when you couldn’t sleep.

It all made you believe it could be real.

“I…” you began, your voice a bit shaky as your heart began to pound. “Listen, I have to tell you something, and I really don’t want to ruin anything, but I don’t think it’s fair to either of us anymore.”

“…What’s not fair?”

“This… thing we’re doing.”

“Why not?” he asked, brow furrowed deeply. He looked super confused and super adorable.

“Because I like you.”

Jae stared at you.

For a good… ten seconds.

Which doesn’t seem like a long time, but when you’ve just confessed feelings to someone, ten seconds seems more like ten years.

His eyes were darting all over your face, his perfect lips slightly agape in shock. It was making your heart race even faster than it just had been.

Yeah… You had just made a huge mistake.

And your first instinct was to… keep talking.

“I actually wasn’t sure if I should tell you because I don’t want things to get awkward between us, but I know I’ll end up getting kind of really hurt when we stop fake dating, and I just -- Listen, it’s – it’s totally okay if you don’t feel the same way. I understand. I expect it, actually. So you can just tell me, and I’ll be okay. I’ll be fine. I just had to tell you. And we can still – I mean, if you want to, we can still –”

And then Jae interrupted you.

And what he said…

Well, you hadn’t been expecting it.

“I like you, too.”

Now it was your turn to stare at him.

“...I-- I’m sorry, what did you say?”

Jae held back a smile as he lifted a hand into the air, signaling the waitress. “Can we get the check?” he asked politely when she arrived.

“Wait, Jae -- what are you --”

“Can we go talk somewhere?” he asked. He reached into his back pocket for his wallet, taking out some cash.

“Go... talk...”

“Alone?”

...Okay.

Let’s take a second and make sure we’ve got this straight.

You confessed to Jae.

Jae, you were fairly certain, had replied with ‘I like you, too.’ (I mean -- unless you’d just completely imagined that.)

And he was now paying for your meal after having asked you to go somewhere to talk.

Alone.

Part 7

Master list //  RULES // Read About the Admins

[akaluan]

One day, when he's either 1) VERY drunk or 2) In a suitably Bleak Mood, Erich actually tells Urahara about Tanya. About the Monster that no one else could see; about a soul that Erich SWEARS was a hollow wrapped in human skin, caring for nothing but itself. Urahara - may or may not understand. But he can provide a willing ear. He can comprehend the shape of Erich's fear.

Upon reflection, Erich might admit that one of the primary factors contributing to his utter fear/horror/disgust of Tanya was that she was just - human. Just genuinely, terrifyingly, human. He couldn’t blame it on hollows or spiritual degradation; she was HUMAN, and that terrified him.            

((Have a …. have a /thing/. Oh my god, I don’t know how this got so long, or where the fuck half of this came from. Holy fuck these characters are starting to escape my grip, wtf, why already…))

“Rerugen-san?” Kisuke asked, stepping cautiously onto the roof of the shoten and approaching where Rerugen was sitting. He stopped well out of reach, lips pinched into a thin line, and took in Rerugen’s appearance; the man was dressed more casually than Kisuke had ever seen him before: leaning back on one hand, legs stretched out in front of him, his dress shirt unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, and his feet bare.

“Mmm?” Rerugen tilted his head slightly towards Kisuke, then looked away. “Urahara.” He took a drink from the glass in his other hand, then gestured vaguely towards the roof near him. “Sit, if you want.”

Kisuke took the last few steps and settled on the tiles, nose wrinkling at the harsh scent of the alcohol that his friend was drinking. A nearly empty bottle sat next to Rerugen’s hip, and Kisuke had the sinking suspicion that the man had started with a full bottle. It took a lot to intoxicate Rerugen properly, but three quarters of a bottle of high-proof alcohol would certainly do it.

“I’d offer you a drink,” Rerugen spoke again, pronouncing his words carefully, “but I only have the one glass.”

“That’s alright,” Kisuke said. His fingers /itched/ to take the glass from Rerugen to keep the man from drinking further, but there was a bleak /darkness/ in his eyes that held Kisuke back. So instead he gave the other a small smile and asked, “What brings you up here without inviting lil’ ol’ me?”

Rerugen snorted and drained the last of his glass, then sat up and grabbed the bottle. Hands trembling faintly, he poured out another few measures into his glass then slumped back into his previous position. The glass was held up towards the moon that sat large and full overhead, and Rerugen peered through the liquid, tilting the glass from side to side.

Kisuke watched the amber-toned shadows filter across Rerugen’s face, willing to wait out the silence. It was one of the first things he had learned when drinking with Rerugen; trying to rush the man gave him nothing, and trying to fill the silence with chatter earned him Rerugen’s ire.

(He’d rather not get another face-full of alcohol.)

“The first time I saw Degurechaff,” Rerugen spoke, voice barely carrying to Kisuke, “the first time I saw her, that little killing doll, she had blasted a grown man through a wall. They were trainees. Recruits. They were in the class /just below her/.” He sighed and took a drink, then bent his leg and rested his wrist on his knee, still swirling the alcohol in his glass. “The man was flat on the ground, stunned from being thrown through a wall and landing in the middle of the courtyard. And Degurechaff… she leapt from the hole after him, standing atop his body and shouting. Shouting about insubordination. About rules and military law…”

Kisuke fought not to stiffen. He’d looked up information about the Empire, trying to get a better idea of how Rerugen thought; military law had been part of that search.

(Insubordination was punishable by death. But for trainees to threaten each other with it?)

Rerugen laughed, low and bleak. “She wasn’t yet double digits in age. Didn’t even reach my waist. Couldn’t even carry the /fucking/ magic rifle she was issued. Screaming about splitting a skull open and carving the rules inside, knife held to strike.” He took another drink, head lolling slightly to the side to fix Kisuke with a blank gaze. “She fought me, when I stopped her. Told me it was her /duty/ to punish the man.”

“And was it?” Kisuke asked softly.

He shrugged and looked away again, back to the moon. “The others thought so. Told me she was just a little /enthusiastic/. That she hadn’t meant it. Just needed to prove herself over the men she was trying to train.” He drained his glass again and stared at it with a pensive frown. “Fucking blind idiots.”

Kisuke leaned forward, reaching out slowly to the bottle at Rerugen’s side. When the man made no complaints, he popped it open and poured a bit more into Rerugen’s glass, then set the bottle at /his/ side. If Rerugen wanted to keep drinking, then /Kisuke/ was going to be the one in control from now on. Already he doubted the man could even stand, much less walk, but clearly he /needed/ to talk about this. “How were they blind?”

“Thank you,” Rerugen said, sipping at his drink. He let his head fall back, closing his eyes and breathing out.

(He looked… unbearably /human/ like that, his neck bared and his poise shattered. Just a weary, tired man haunted by his past.)

(Kisuke resolved to never let the teens see Rerugen like this.)

“They praised her,” Rerugen said, not moving or opening his eyes. “She received the Silver Wings medal before she even reached ten years old, and from that point on… heh. She presented such a /perfect/ front. A little girl, the perfect soldier. Everyone loved her.”

“But not you,” Kisuke said with certainty.

Rerugen’s lips quirked into a wry smile. “No. But I said nothing. Who would believe me?” He gestured absently with his glass, but didn’t actually move to take a drink. “She was brilliant. Intelligent and strategic and the /perfect soldier/.” He scoffed, then whispered, “Perfect soldiers are nothing but /monsters/.”

Kisuke grimaced at Rerugen’s words, at the resigned despair contained within them. To be able to see, but to know that no one would believe…

(He knew how that felt. How bitterly it sat, watching from the sidelines and unable to do /anything/ to open people’s eyes.)

“I wanted to believe she /was/ a monster,” Rerugen admitted after a short silence. “A brainwashed child. A degenerate soul possessing a child’s body, out for revenge. A hollow in human form. /Anything/.”

“Was she?” Kisuke prompted, curious despite himself. Brainwashing a young child would have been easy enough, he supposed, but the other options weren’t something Kisuke had ever contemplated. /Did/ things like that happen?

“No.” Rerugen straightened up and took a drink, hand trembling enough that he spilled some on his undershirt. He growled in frustration, setting his glass down and rubbing futilely at the spots. “It was worse,” he grumbled, glancing over at Kisuke. “She was just /human/. Nothing more, nothing less. A tiny little psychopath, not even capable of sensing spirits or hollows. Just /human nature at its finest/. A monster just like all the rest of us.”

“You’re not a monster,” Kisuke insisted, leaning forward to snatch the nearly-empty glass out of Rerugen’s reach. If the man was sinking /that/ far into self-recrimination, he certainly didn’t need any more alcohol to help him along.

“I,” Rerugen said, “am /entirely/ monstrous.”

Kisuke sighed and stood up, reaching down to grip Rerugen’s arm in order to pull him up. Rerugen stumbled, swaying on his feet and slumping against Kisuke, face buried against Kisuke’s neck. Kisuke grimaced at both Rerugen’s weight and the way the man’s glasses dug into his skin, and reinforced himself a bit; Rerugen wasn’t particularly /light/ despite his thin frame, and he was resting almost all his weight on Kisuke at the moment. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.” He wasn’t going to touch on the topic of monsters, not with Rerugen in this state. Whatever the man had done to label himself a monster, now was not the time to further open old wounds.

Rerugen grumbled in faint protest as Kisuke moved. “Keep the teens away from me tomorrow,” he murmured. “Tell them… something. I don’t care. I can’t…”

“Shh. I’ll keep them distracted,” Urahara reassured, wrapping an arm around Rerugen’s waist and half-carrying, half-dragging the man towards the edge of the roof. “You just worry about dealing with your hangover.”

Rerugen laughed raggedly, one hand clenching tight in Urahara’s coat. “No reprieve for a poor, suffering soldier?”

“Not when the suffering is entirely the soldier’s fault,” he teased gently. Kisuke paused at the edge of the roof and considered how best to get the two of them down. The more expedient way, of course, was to just carry the man.

“I’ll remember that for next time,” Rerugen said, moving his head enough to stare blearily over the edge of the roof. “… Urahara, you better not—”

Before Rerugen could finish, Kisuke swept the man up and hopped down, landing as gently as he could.

“I am going to throw up on you,” Rerugen threatened half-heartedly.

“Do, and I’ll laugh at you tomorrow.” Kisuke said with a laugh, as he kept moving, not bothering to set the man down. It was just faster to carry Rerugen to the man’s room like this, and it wasn’t like Rerugen was /actually/ protesting or struggling.

“Why the fuck do I like you,” Rerugen growled, giving in and resting his head on Kisuke’s shoulder again. His eyes closed and his breathing started to even out, body relaxing further in Kisuke’s grip.

“Sometimes I wonder if you even do,” Kisuke murmured to himself, toeing open the door to Rerugen’s room and moving to the futon that was set out. He knelt and laid the man down, attempting to pry the man’s hand free of his coat, before giving up and just pulling it off and letting the man have it for the night. Something more to tease him about the next day, if it looked like Rerugen would allow it.

Rerugen situated in bed and on his side, Kisuke sat back on his heels and considered his options. He didn’t feel comfortable leaving the man alone, not after nearly a full bottle of /whatever/ that had been. Safer, then, to sit up and keep watch, just in case.

(Souls were resilient things, but even souls could die of alcohol.)

Rerugen’s bleak gaze wouldn’t leave his mind.

(’I am entirely monstrous.’)

Alcohol /and/ nightmare watch it was, then.

[weneverfreeze]

Sydney. My dear. I will love you forever if you write samnat for one of those au prompts you just reblogged (im feeling 1, 6, or 7 for them, but really any prompt is fine 😄😄)

Okay sorry this is late Mercedes! This didn’t get a reread, just so you know, and I started writing the ending at around 1 AM and it’s 4:30 (lolol it’s 4:47 now) in the morning right now, so yeah:

1.  I’m sleeping over at my friend’s flat from university after study group and just got woken up in the middle of the night by their roommate, who is sitting in the kitchen, listening very loudly to the dirty dancing soundtrack and crying. Like wtf, I didn’t even know they had a roommate and normally I would yell at you but damn you are cute. You really need to stop tho dude, its 4am, some people in this house want to sleep AU

6. We work out at the same gym and you are my declared rival because we have the same workout routine and you are always better than me and on my way to the locker room I passed you in the shower where you were singing the opening of hannah montana and I can still hear you and you switched to the lion king now and even though I hate you I think I am kind of in love with you AU

7. I’m hiding in the bathroom of a restaurant from a spectacularly awful tinder date and you are in a similar situation because a guy at the bar just won’t stop hitting on you and now we are planning an epic escape together even though we only met ten minutes ago AU

WC: 5747

There are two gyms on campus. Two gyms for nearly 40,000 people, so it stands to reason that you’d run into people very rarely. Two gyms, 40,000 people, seven days in a week, fourteen hours give or take each day when they’re open, four floors of exercise equipment and courts and weights and two pools per gym. This isn’t even factoring in her work schedule or classes, but somehow Natasha’s managed to run into this asshole every single time she goes to the gym. Out of both gyms and all the rooms and all the possible exercise routines. Every single time.

The first time she thought maybe it was just coincidence. It happens now and then of course, that someone comes in and has a similar routine to the one she’s perfected over the last six years. Last time it was Clint though, and that was first semester sophomore year, and that was only because Nat asked him. He’d complained the entire time about how hockey’s enough exercise for the both of them, and Nat I’m going to mess up my legs or my arms or my nose, okay, you remember how I got a concussion swimming. Clint came with maybe four times before deciding to do yoga by himself.

Since then Natasha had been alone in her workout routine. Thirty minutes on the bike, thirty doing weights, and thirty on the thigh machine downstairs on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Saturday’s for lazy laps in the pool when she isn’t making burritos at Chipotle. Her routine is simple and easy. In and out within 90 minutes.

But this asshole. Showing up all cocky and self-important. He’s been mirroring her pretty consistently the last month or so. At first it wasn’t that noticeable—he’s cute, maybe, in that sweaty sort of athletic way that she won’t pretend not to like, but she’s dated girls and guys like that before, so—just another body on the bikes a little down the row, or another person curling dumbbells, or another guy waiting for a weight machine.

Then it started being a thing. Nat had glanced over week 1.5 of this whatever-it-is at the same time he had, and they shared a nod and went back to biking. He seemed like an asshole even then. It was something, she figured, to do with how he wore cologne even when working out.

Then, week 2, it had been a very full Wednesday, and the only bikes were right next to each other. He was definitely looking at the display on her machine and she’d never tell Clint or Maria that that was the reason she was walking a little stiffly for three days afterward, because she definitely hadn’t been going a little faster than she should have been and checking his display as well.

Weeks 3 and 4 had been more of the same, except at week 3.5 she’d realized what exactly is so asshole-y about him: he doesn’t sweat, and he bikes further and can lift more than she can. (She’s better overall on the thigh machine, thank you, hockey.) Natasha would be over here straining to go up one last hill while he’d be pedalling easy as anything, scrolling through some article on his phone.

Natasha had been hoping when she walked in today that he wouldn’t be here, but no such luck, and he’d taken the machine she favors. She glances to her left; he catches her look, and raises his water bottle in an obnoxious salute. Inwardly she flips him off.

Only five minutes in. She readjusts her headphones. Five minutes in. She can do this.

The men’s and women’s locker rooms share a wall. Through numerous, painful post-workout showers, Natasha’s determined that unfortunately the wall must be dividing the shower sections of both locker rooms; someone’s been having a field day singing show tunes and pop music and rapping while she’s in the shower.

The variety, she thinks as hangs up her towel, is pretty impressive. Today the singer’s belting out Best of Both Worlds from Hannah Montana.

It’s not unpleasant today, which is surprising. The singer’s voice goes oddly well with the theme song.

The singer switches to Circle of Life. She joins in and they sing together until the water goes cold.

(It goes cold after six minutes.)

New Text Message

Clintyyy: Takeout?

Me: You’re buying

Clintyyy: Hey now, no

Clintyyy: It’s your turn

Me: Don’t make me bring up Budapest again

Me: You owe me

Clintyyy: ….fine

Me: Good

Clintyyy: Preference?

Me: Anything but tacos

Me: Chipotle has me sick of tacos

Me: You’ve never known true taco hatred until even just the smell makes you want to throw ingredients everywhere

Clintyyy: Please tell me you did not do that

Me: (read at 7:39)

Clintyyy: Tasha?

Me: (read at 7:43)

Clintyyy: We gotta pay rent still you’ve got a job right

Me: Of course I do

Clintyyy: Don’t do that to me

Clint’s got fried rice, lo mein, and crab rangoon waiting on TV trays in the living room when she shoulders through the doorway. Or, limps through; she’d done too much on the thigh machine again today, which she’s pretty sure Asshole Guy had noticed. Light from NCIS flickers over his face as he raises an eyebrow. A noodle is hanging out of his mouth.

“Don’t tell Steve,” she says. She plunks down next to him on the couch, pokes his thigh until he gives her more room.

He says, “That’d be embarrassing for you,” and she glares until he raises his hands in surrender. “I won’t, fine; just don’t kill me, okay?”

“Who am I gonna get to rent with me next year if I didn’t have you?” She opens the fried rice and quirks a smile and he bumps his shoulder against hers.

They’ve rented together for two years now after Natasha’s freshman year roommate gave her a photo album of her sleeping at the end of the first semester. She’d spent the majority of spring semester staying over at Clint’s room, which worked out nicely because Clint’s roommate Steve’s just about the nicest most stubborn guy she’s ever met, and he’d only asked them once if they were dating (they weren’t). Most other people have a look that says I don’t believe you when they say they’ve been friends as long as they’ve known each other, but Steve had just nodded and gone back to sketching his calculator.

“We should live with Steve next year,” she says, thinking; it’s October now, if they get a move on they should be able to get a nice place. She steals a bite of noodle from Clint’s container.

Clint pulls a face, but he holds the container closer to her. Nat offers the fried rice in return. “Nah, I’m good.”

She smiles. “To the rice or to Steve?”

He pretends to think about it, stroking an imaginary beard, and she leans into his side and waits. Onscreen Gibbs slaps Tony upside the head again.

“Both,” Clint says. She makes a face. “Kidding. Steve’s rooming with someone next year, they’ve really hit it off, so.” He tilts his head to the side like he’s deliberating and adds, “Or not kidding really, because that kid wheezes so much when he tries to sleep. Snores like you wouldn’t believe.”

“I was there, remember?” she says with a smile, checking the crab rangoon. “Do you want the last one or shall I?”

Clint waves it toward her and says, “What song today?”

She’s been keeping him updated on the gym since he refuses to go. He knows all about The Asshole and The Song Guy. He’s convinced that there’s a love story in the making between the three of them, but since she threatened him (half-jokingly) with a spatula, he’s been keeping that to himself.

“Circle of Life.”

Clint nods and shrugs appreciatively. “Good choice.”

She says, yawning, “Better than the week of Thrift Shop.”

“You love Thrift Shop.”

He starts playing with her hair and it’s so soothing she almost drifts off.

“I do,” she murmurs, yawning again—it feels really very nice—and curling closer. Clint unfolds the blanket along the top of the couch and pulls it over them. “That’s why it was so bad. He didn’t know all the words.”

Clint says something like “Neither do you” but she’s just about asleep now and doesn’t really hear him. Or at least, that’s what she’ll say if he mentions it in the morning.

New Text Message

1-347-867-5309: Hey Nat! Do you wanna study together Saturday?

Me: Who is this

1-347-867-5309: Steve

Me: Ohh right right

1-347-867-5309: You didn’t know it was me did you

Me: Of course I did

Me: I know everything

Steve: Sure

Steve: You’d think that

Steve: Since, y’know, we’re friends and all

Steve: You’d save my phone number

Me: Don’t be offended

Me: I’ve been friends with Clint for fifteen years and I only saved his number since coming to college

Steve: I guess that helps

Steve: Maybe

Steve: Not really. Anyway: study with me?

Me: Worried for the test?

Steve: A little

Me: Me too

Me: Where/what time?

Steve: My apartment? I’m off work at three, so four?

Me: Sounds good

Steve: See ya then

Asshole Guy isn’t there today. Today she’s got her machine again and the world is at peace once more.

To be fair, it’s Tuesday. She never knew for sure, but she strongly suspects Asshole Guy only works out Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, like her. But this week Fury has her working the night shift on the line, so Friday’s workout’s cancelled.

She probably shouldn’t be in today. Her inner thigh is still sore. Steve would kill her if he knew she was straining it—he’s a history and art double major, but, since his dad’s a trainer, he knows a fair amount of things. Including the fact that pushing a hurt muscle is a terrible idea.

Natasha knows that too, though, and it’s starting to hurt more than it had, so she sighs and lets the weights down gently.

“You alright?”

She whips around, ready with a snappy retort for another dude bro trying to tell her how to do her workout. It dies in her throat. Two gyms, 40,000 people, seven days in a week, fourteen hours, an entirely different day, no less, and yet.

It doesn’t help that The Asshole has nice eyes this close. He clears his throat, and that’s when she realizes he’s wearing the khaki pants, blue shirt, and red backpack of a student trainer. He says, “It’s Tuesday. You don’t usually—I mean, this isn’t your max weight, and you usually lift longer than this.”

He’s been watching. Nat raises an eyebrow. “Observant.”

“Part of the job,” he says. His cologne is sharply out of place with all the sweat in the air.

“You work here.” She regrets it the moment she says it; his eyebrows shoot straight up, then settle again. Of course he works here. No one wears khakis to a gym.

Instead of answering he plucks at the hem of his shirt and moves on. “Are you okay? I have to ask when someone lets the weights down like that.”

“Didn’t realize they were that loud,” she says, to have something to say. “I’m fine. Little sore from yesterday.”

The Asshole sets his backpack down and kneels to sort through it, all the while asking about her hydration and whether or not she’s eaten and you know, you’ve gotta rest between these kinds of things, you can’t do the same exercises back to back and expect to be totally fine.

This rubs her wrong. “My work schedule’s different this week,” she snaps. “I’m not an idiot.”

“Sorry,” he says mildly. He hops back to his feet holding a blue crinkly something. Natasha glares up at him and he holds his hands up before saying, “I know you’re not an idiot, just needed to say that. Job description and all that.”

She’s got her arms folded, so when he tosses the crinkly something at her she’s completely unprepared. It bounces off her elbow before she catches it, somehow, on the rebound. It’s a Nutrigrain bar. She stares at him.

The Asshole rubs the back of his neck and says, “It’s blueberry, not too bad if you—I dunno, if you eat that sort of thing.”

“Thanks…?”

“Sam,” he says, starting to walk away.

She says “Natasha” and Sam smiles and walks out of the weight room.

There is a profound silence from the men’s locker room. Today the water stays warm for exactly eight minutes before threatening to crystalize on her skin.

When she’s dry, she squeezes her hair with the towel and dresses. The Nutrigrain wrapper’s in her pocket when Nat pulls on her jeans. She’s not sure, really, why she’s still holding onto it.

New Text Message

Steve: Hey were you working out today? At the Heli?

Me: Yeah, why?

Steve: No reason

Steve: (Steve sent an emoji)

Me: The halo’s not reassuring Rogers

Steve:

Early Wednesday morning she wakes up in Clint’s arms while Tangled plays for the third or fiftieth time. Squinting, she looks up to see that Clint’s awake and bedheaded as ever; she’s still not sure if he styles his hair like that intentionally or if, thanks to the innumerable naps he takes, that’s just the way his hair grows.

She pulls the blanket over her more and Clint starts. “Sorry,” he whispers, grabbing for the remote. He mutes the TV (Rapunzel and Flynn are just about to be trapped in the mine) and Nat closes her eyes again.

“S’okay,” she says sleepily. “How long’ve you been awake?”

“Somewhere around Flynn finding the tower.” He stretches carefully, rests his arm around her again. “You were saying something about Sam? In your sleep.”

“Mmm. No.”

“I think so. Fell asleep with my hearing aids in, so.”

“Your hair’s stupid” is all she says. He lightly pulls on one of her curls, and they drift off again.

Steve has to poke her six times to stay awake in lecture around noon. She’s lucky to have him there; Clint would’ve let her sleep and drawn mustaches on her with Sharpie. It’s especially important to be awake today because they’re reviewing for the exam, and she’s got a 93% right now and this test could solidify or jeopardize that A.

That doesn’t mean she’s not leaning on Steve right now. She’s lucky she’s on her left because she’s right handed, and even though he is as well he’s not the type to complain when he’s helping someone. Plus his right arm is ever-so-slightly more muscular than his left, so it’s somewhat more comfortable to lean against.

He’s really bulked up in the last two years; freshman year Nat used to be able to fit his wrist between her forefinger and thumb. Not so much now. He has a Russian pen pal according to Clint—kept in touch since they were five apparently—and they’ve been FaceTiming and working out together. She and Clint aren’t really sure what exercises they’ve been doing—or how you can work out with someone over FaceTime—but it’s working for Steve at least; they’ve doubled their efforts to get him on their hockey team.

Steve pokes her again as Professor Stark rambles on about medical experimentation during World War II.

“I’m awake,” she says. Their redheaded neighbor, Pepper, hushes them, and Nat sticks her tongue out at her. Quieter: “I’m awake.”

“I know,” Steve says, “you snore.”

“Hey!”

“Shh!”

Steve holds up a hand to stop either of them from saying anything. He whispers, “Did you meet Sam? At the Heli?”

Natasha stares at him. “How’d you know that?” Their prof changes the slide and she hurriedly copies down the information.

“He told me,” Steve says. “Ran into a redhead on the weights, said it wasn’t abnormal but for the fact that you don’t work out Tuesdays.”

“I don’t, it’s be—”

“Because of work, yeah.”

Nat worries her bottom lip. “You know him.”

“From high school,” Steve says. He nudges her and winks when she glances up. “He’s a good guy.”

She elbows him back, but she’s blushing a little. “You can’t be too sure. He wears cologne to the gym.”

Steve throws his head back and laughs so loudly that Stark stumbles over his lecture and stares, aghast.

“Excuse me, in the back; do you find this subject funny?”

Steve’s really doing an admirable job of biting back his laugh, she can almost see it straining to chime out. He hangs his head in the model of a subdued and solemn student. “Of course not, Professor.”

Stark narrows his eyes and resumes his lecture, casting dark looks at them from time to time. Steve whispers, “Cologne? Really?” and Natasha barely stops herself from laughing too.

Clint leans in her doorway while she ties her sneakers. “C’mon, Tasha.”

“I go to the gym on Wednesdays,” she says, sighing a little when she stands; her inner thigh muscles still hurt from yesterday.

What Natasha means is, Sam goes to the gym on Wednesday. She’s been thinking about him almost all day. She got on the wrong bus this morning because she was trying to remember the shade of his eyes. She’s even—it hurts to admit this, even to herself—she’s even bought him a blueberry Nutrigrain bar.

Clint knows her well enough and is, in general, smart enough to hear what she isn’t saying. “I get that, believe me I do, but. You’ve gotta rest up. You can go back to kicking butt and showing off next week if you want, or Saturday, but you’ve gotta rest.”

If she had enough momentum, she’d be ducking under his arm and in the hallway and on her way. Clint catches her stare and shifts into a more solid stance, the one that makes him look intimidating in his hockey gear but right now makes him look bedheaded and earnest and like her best friend.

Nat says, “I don’t really wanna go, but I do,” and Clint smiles with half of his mouth.

He looks up and runs a hand along the doorframe like it’s the most fascinating thing, still smiling like it’s just for her. “Wanna get out?”

“Where?”

“Dunno,” he says, and shrugs.

Their university does movies for free at the Union, so that’s where they go. Every Wednesday through Saturday at 9 PM whoever’s in charge of the videos cycles through blockbusters that came out earlier in the year, usually on a few month’s delay. It’s always very energetic; the room seats 150 people, give or take, and that many college kids in a room tend to laugh and talk to the screen now and then in very audible whispers.

It’s Moana tonight. Natasha buys the popcorn and Clint does the butter and salt in an easy routine that they’ve established over the last decade and a half, one born from Natasha having a job and but sense of what to do with butter and Clint not having a job but the amazing ability, somehow, to properly flavor even the vaguely cardboard-y popcorn served outside the theatre.

She’s checking his work—flawless, as always; he can’t seem to miss the mark—when he says, “Oh, hey Steve.”

Clint takes the popcorn back, which is good because she almost drops it. Steve smirks at her but she barely sees him; Sam’s leather jacket is filling up her field of view.

“Hey Clint, Nat,” Steve says. “Nat, I think you know Sam?” Nat glares at him and he shrugs in an I’m sorry kind of way, which would’ve been fine if his eyes weren’t plainly amused.

Sam says, “We’ve met. How’re your thighs?”

Clint makes a noise that sounds like he’s got popcorn stuck in his throat at that. “Her thighs?” Steve doubles over, laughing a little breathlessly.

“Fine,” Nat says, ignoring Clint and Steve, but it’s okay because she and Sam have both gone red now. “Just. Taking a day off. Rest day.”

“Good, good,” Sam says. He’s wearing what Natasha thinks is his my best friend is an idiot expression; she recognizes it because she makes the same face about Clint.

She looks at them—they’re not paying attention anymore, Clint’s showing Steve something on his phone—and then back at Sam and says, halfway between annoyed and flustered, “Wanna find a seat?”

And he says, “Absolutely,” and they sit next to each other and, in the dark, she imagines that this is, maybe, a date. A daydream ruined when Clint and Steve stumble over them to get to their own seats and spill Steve’s drink all over the floor, flooding over the tops of their shoes and making the floor obnoxiously sticky when they shift their feet.

New Text Message

Steve: yknow tht Sam liks you

Me: Are you drunk?

Steve: cant get drunk rmmber

Steve: scince

Me: That’s not how science works

Me: Are you okay? Do we need to come get you?

Steve: nahhhhh

Steve: mfine. got Sam

(Steve added Clintyyy to the chat.)

Steve: CLINT tell her

Clintyyy: What’s with the caps man?

Steve: phone bein weird

Steve: does that

Me: Are you sure you’re fine?

Steve: i am not Sam he’s in lov

Steve: *live

Steve: *lpbe

Clintyyy: We got you

Steve: you knoe what I mean

Me: He’s drunk

Steve: mnot

Me: Like Budapest all over again

Clintyyy: Ah the memories

Natasha has twelve missed calls from Steve when she wakes up. She checks through them, straining to separate the synth in the background from Steve’s slurred speech, and makes a mental note to make Steve the DD from now on. Boy can’t handle his alcohol very well.

She also has a series of quick texts from a number she doesn’t recognize, and she smiles when she sees them: Got him home safe, don’t worry. Got your number from his phone. Don’t forget to hydrate.

Clint walks with her to the bus stop, very blatantly reading over her shoulder. She lets him. “‘Don’t forget to hydrate’?” he says, one eyebrow raised.

Nat just shrugs and shows her ID to the busdriver. Clint follows behind her. He wants to ask something, she can tell, so she waits and leans the back of her head against the window. He pokes a hole in the knee of her jeans.

The bus slows to a stop by the main lawn five minutes later and they get up, sling backpacks over tired shoulders. Nat’s class is a little bit of a walk from the stop but Clint’s is in one of the old buildings ringing the lawn, so they hug and go on their way.

But he’s running after her a beat later, and he asks, winded (he should, she thinks, probably come with her to the gym), “You like him?”

“Maybe,” she tells him.

Clint studies her with the certainty and ease that comes from knowing someone for awhile. “You do,” he says, like he’s found something worth finding.

She says, “Yeah,” and they smile at each other.

New Text Message

Clintyyy: Still up for it?

Steve: Yessss

Me: Why not

Loud, overly flirtatious and forward drunk frat guys. That’s why not.

Thirsty Thursday is always a little over-the-top, but somehow, today, it’s one hundred percent worse; they’ve walked the entirety of College Ave. looking for a bar that wasn’t overflowing but still quality. There are approximately seven different bars within feasible walking distance—that is, within the distance that a still somewhat hungover Steve, an exercise-loath Clint, and a Natasha in relatively high heels would be willing to walk to. Seven bars for 40,000 students, maybe only half of whom can (legally) drink, maybe only half of that half who don’t have classes Fridays and would be out around this time. And, apparently, all of those students are tipsy frat guys.

They don’t say anything to her, per se, never do, but they’d said things to each other about her when she and Steve and Clint walk by, and once was enough for her to dislike them on principle.

The three of them had planned for eight. Eight was a dumb idea, evidently, because the bars they would have no trouble getting into Monday through Wednesday at eight o’clock are filled with lines a block long.

“Should we just call it?” Clint asks in frustration. They’re at the sixth bar on the list.

Nat shakes her head. “Let’s try the next one. We’re out, we’re cute, we may as well. And I really have to pee.”

“Well said,” Steve says.

The seventh bar is called The Triskelion for reasons Natasha hadn’t cared to ask about. The logo is the same curving lines as her boss’ tattoo, and Fury never struck her as the type of person to welcome questions about it, so she’d shelved her curiosity.

It’s a little, low lit dingy place with graffitied walls and peeling paint. But the bar is clean and so are the tables, and there aren’t as many frat guys here—there’s a few other people at the bar and one or two couples who seem to be on dates, but no Greek letters—, so Nat thinks it’s perfect.

“What can I get you all?” the bartender asks.

Natasha looks and Clint and says, “Surprise me,” and heads off to find the bathroom.

“I got you,” Clint calls. She raises a hand to say she heard.

It’s surprisingly clean, the bathroom. It’s unisex, so there are urinals and stalls, but there isn’t as much pee everywhere as she’d expected for Thirsty Thursday. She’s washing her hands when the door slams open.

“—right back,” someone says, talking to someone outside, and then: “Shit fuck.”

Nat glances to the door and immediately wishes she was back at the bar. “Hey, Sam.”

He smiles weakly, rubbing the back of his neck. “How you doing?”

“Fine. You alright?”

“You, uh. Heard that, then?” Sam says flatly. She nods, waits. He sighs. “It’s my date.”

Now she really wishes she was back at the bar. The sentence bounces around her head a moment before settling uncomfortably on her stomach.

She says, “Sorry,” and pinches off bits of her paper towel.

“Yeah. Don’t know what I was expecting, it’s just,” he says, and now he throws up his hands, “everything’s gone wrong, she told me that I was ‘just the sweetest thing’ and ‘so soft’ and that I remind her of her dead chocolate lab, and she didn’t answer if I asked if it was because I’m black. I mean, I was kidding, but not now, clearly.”

“She sounds interesting,” Nat says carefully. “I’m sorry.”

“‘Interesting’ is a little milder than I’m thinking,” he says. “It’s my fault really, it’s Tinder and I was gonna call it off, but she sounded so sad in the messages.”

“What’re you gonna do?”

Sam looks around the bathroom and says sheepishly, “I was going to pop open the window, actually. But there isn’t one. So.”

“I’m sorry,” Nat says. On an impulse she takes his hand and squeezes it. “You can do this. It only has to be a one-time thing.”

He squeezes her hand back. “I’ll try.”

New Text Message

Me: Abort

Nutrigrain Bar: What happened? Are you okay?

Me: Frat guy at the bar hitting on me

Me: buying me a drink npw

Me: Steve and Clint in bathroom

Nutrigrain Bar: One sec

“Hold on, I gotta tell Clint and Steve, they worry,” Nat says a little breathlessly, leaning against the brick wall of the library. Sam starts to back away but she catches his jacket sleeve as a sort of tether. She sends her text one-handed and pulls him closer, and the second kiss is as nice as the first, and the third is better.

New Text Message

Nutrigrain Bar: I had a very, very nice time last night

Me: Me too

Me: It’d be a shame if

Me: You know

Nutrigrain Bar: If it happened again?

Me: Exactly

Nutrigrain Bar: Well

Nutrigrain Bar: We’ve always got out standing date at the gym

Me: That’s a good start

Nutrigrain Bar: Well hopefully we’ll have a good middle too

New Text Message

Stevie: Told ya

Me: I know

Stevie: For the record

Me: I knowwww

Stevie: ;)

Me: Shut up

“Details,” Clint says, his arm a dead weight around her shoulder; they’re both still feeling last night.

The NCIS opening credits play, but they’ve got the sound off. This is one of Clint’s favorite things to do, sit around and read the lips of the actors on TV shows. Nat’s favorite part is when he gets bored of it and starts making up his own lines.

She tucks her knees close to her chest and leans closer to Clint. He mumbles Gibbs’ line, ���Grab your gear,” and she says, “Doesn’t count.”

“Does so.”

“He says it,” and here she yawns, “every episode.”

Clint tugs on her sleeve. “It counts. It’s like the free space in Bingo.”

“Gonna pretend you didn’t say that, Barton.”

“Gonna pretend you aren’t dodging the question, Romanova.”

“You didn’t,” she says, yawning again, “ask me anything.”

“Don’t be a McGoofus, McGee” is what Clint says next. Then: “Fine. Details?”

Remembering it gives her goosebumps. She smiles. “About?”

Clint groans and buries his face in a cushion while she laughs harder than she would normally. His voice is muffled as he says, “The kiss, Tasha, the kissing, the Frenching, snogging, whatever.”

“You mean like, how was it?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“Tongue?”

“Maybe.”

New Text Message

Steviesteviestevie: Okay I’m presentable now

Steviesteviestevie: Are you almost here?

Me: Just got off the bus

Me: Be there in 5

Steve flings the door open wide and drapes himself against it, saying, “Welcome to my humble abode.”

He’s ridiculous. “You’re always so dramatic,” Nat says, laughing in spite of herself. She crosses the threshold and Steve closes the door behind her.

She’s never been in Steve’s apartment before. It’s about what she would’ve expected for a student on a college budget: small living room with a small TV and bookcase, small kitchen, small bathroom with a corner of the mirror missing. A hallway leads off the living room and has three doors, one being the bathroom, one Steve’s room, and then a closet, maybe.

He spread out cool ranch Doritos and Oreos and lemonade on the counter. After handing her a (paper) plate, Steve piles huge handfuls of the Doritos onto his own plate and sits.

The Doritos are now half empty. “You should’ve just taken the bag,” Nat comments. She deliberates for a second and then just takes the Oreo tray to the table.

“There’s time,” Steve says. “We’ve got a lot of studying to do.”

Nat plunks her notes and books onto the table. “That we do.”

Two hours later, Natasha hits the wall.

Thirty minutes after that, Clint texts her about an NHL game, so she commandeers Steve’s TV and watches that. Steve abandons his homework and joins her on the couch and they yell at a few missed calls, and she finally gets him to agree to join her and Clint’s team (thereby allowing her to win a twenty dollar bet).

Around nine, a Mythbusters marathon starts. Natasha and Steve have a competition to see who can stack and eat the most Oreo filling. Steve wins, but only because his mouth his bigger.

At ten Steve’s Russian pen pal FaceTimes him, and, after exchanging hellos in Russian, Steve introduces him to Nat. Steve’s pen pal has long hair and the unlikely name of ‘Bucky’ and is surprised when Natasha takes to him exclusively in Russian.

Sometime after that Natasha’s alone on the couch, and while the Mythbusters team blows stuff up onscreen, she falls asleep.

She hears it and holds a pillow over her head in sheer stubborn refusal to be awake. When she moves, her arm threatens to fall off; sleeping on the couch never really works out for her unless she sleeps on someone.

The lights are off in the apartment. Careful to keep her ears covered, she peeks at the TV and sees that someone turned it off. The singing’s coming from the kitchen, then. If she focuses extremely hard she can just make out the pitch on the voice, and from what she knows from several painful karaoke nights, Steve’s voice isn’t this nice to listen to. Even if it’s waking her up at—she checks the clock on the bookcase—four in the morning. She blearily considers the possibility that Steve’s being robbed.

Whoever’s singing (a musical burglar?) is getting into it. Their words filter through the pillow now: “Just remember, you’re the one thing I can’t get enough of”.

That’s it. She throws the pillow across the room and storms into the kitchen.

“What the hell are you—” That’s when she sees Sam.

He stops midword in surprise. “Nat?” he says, uncertain. “Why’re you here?”

She crosses her arms. “Why’re you here?”

“I asked first,” he says, yawning.

“Studying.”

He says, “Sleeping.”

This more than anything annoys her. “Trying to,” she says pointedly. “Was sleeping.”

It seems to take him a moment to put together what she’s saying. “Oh. Sorry.”

“Your turn.”

“I live here?” He raps his knuckles on the back of a chair.

She’s not awake enough for this. “Here?”

“Steve and I are roommates,” Sam says.

“I thought—” she yawns “—thought he lived alone.”

Sam says, in a tone too bright for this time of morning, “Nope.”

“Why Dirty Dancing in the kitchen? Can’t you practice in, I don’t know, the car? The shower?”

Sam looks at her oddly. “Yeah,” he says. “I do,” and this time it’s Nat who takes a moment to understand what he’s saying.

And then she puts it together. “The gym.”

He nods, smiling slightly. “Thought you knew.”

“No,” she says, rubbing her eyes. It’s too early for this.

“Shame.” He looks very determinedly at the ceiling. “I was trying to woo you.”

She laughs. “Through the shower.”

“Wasn’t sure what else to do,” Sam says, shrugging. But he’s smiling, and she thinks that maybe she’s found something worth finding.

“You’re an idiot,” Nat says.

He says, hopeful, “That mean it worked?”

“Maybe,” she says.

New Text Message

Me: Made it back fine, thanks for asking

Nutrigrain Bar: Good :)

Me: And it worked

Me: How’s Wednesday?

[classycollectorartisanposts-blog]

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"kia insurance bakersfield

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kia insurance bakersfield

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What are good sites to get multiple car insurance quotes all at once so you can compare?

I don't mean individual insurance companies like geico or all-state, I mean where it can do the quotes for multiple companies at a time. Know any safe & legit websites? I don't want to put my personal info just anywhere.""

Rover75 rear hit by a 4x4. Garage says not repairable what do I do? how much will the insurance pay?

The 4x4 damaged the rear end of my Rover 75, impossible to shut boot and lights not working. The garage and insurance now say it is not repairable. - but even after the accident, the car was driving perfectly. How much will the insurance company pay? Will they? Is there any way I can get the car fixed?""

Cheapest car insurance? Does anyone know?

Paying no mind to the jibber jabber they say on TV what car insurance do you know is cheap?

Why is my health insurance so much?

My girlfriend- is 22 in shape and healthy other than having psoriasis and ADD; she has health insurance and pays $90 damn bucks a month. I am looking for insurance since I will soon be 26 years old in shape and healthy and am looking at paying $200 a month. This is bullshit frankly- I am healthy, only have ADD (which I don't even take meds for but want to start again) and have a steady well paying job. I tried looking through the websites but found nothing less than $110 for not so great coverage. Can someone explain to me a. where to get good affordable health insurance b. why there is such a difference in cost since she has more problems and we are only 3 years apart c. are there any options for me if I went to healthcare.gov? I know she isn't lying about the payments and I know she has a co pay with each subscription/doctors visit but its minimal like $30-60 minimal. Any help or advise is very appreciated- also please don't make this political.""

Lying to insurance company?

The other night I hit into a pole in a parking lot and no one saw, and caused the pole no damage. However, the front of my car has a small damage. Money is tight. What if I were to tell my insurance company that I did not know how it happened and I'm looking to repair it...""

How much does insurance cost for a gas station in NH?

If I was to open up a gas station in NH how much would the insurance cost per month or year? Assuming I had an average amount of coverage and was running it as an LLC.

kia insurance bakersfield

kia insurance bakersfield

Where can I find information on low rate home owner's insurance?

I have a hmeowners insurance since I bought my home 10 years ago. The premium has gone up about 25%. Want to find out better rate from good companies - websites etc information

How good is military insurance(Tri-Care) for maternity care?

My husband is in the military. I've never used the insurance, but I will need it now that I'm 6.5 weeks pregnant. How's the coverage?""

How do I prevent myself from getting taken advantage of by the car insurance companies?

What steps do I need to take in order to always be well ahead of the tricks that car insurance companies would want to pull on me?

Health insurance cost?

In June of 08 my fiance and I are getting married in IL. I will be just out of school and looking for a full-time teaching job. My soon to be husband graduated 2 years ago and found a part-time music job, but the school eliminated all the part-time positions. He is now subbing and teaching percussion lessons every week. We both will have to pay for insurance until we both get full-time jobs. What is a normal cost to pay per month. If I was to average $150.00 a month is that to little or to much for the two of us. I will be 22 almost 23 and he will be 25. I know he has insurance, but it only covers things that will cost over $8,000 and everything else he pays for out of pocket like shots and etc. It would be nice to have a better plan. He has a screwed up back and some other issues with his body hurting from time to time and blue cross and blue sheild rejected his application. So, it was hard for him to find a company to insure him. Thanks!""

Is it true that you MUST purchase health insurance?

So, President Obama says you MUST purchase health insurance or face fines by federal government. How do you feel about that? (Also, wondering how many actually care about their rights being trampled on by Obamacare.)""

Car insurance?

my spouse has never had a drivers license and took my car while i was at work and had an accident . my spouse is not excluded on my policy will my insurance cover damage to other property

Will it cost more on car insurance to tow a trailer tent?

Will it cost more on car insurance to tow a trailer tent?

Will my insurance cover my newborn?

Ok right now i have Gateway, (I know, not the best insurance) my fiancee does not have insurance threw his job, but will my insurance cover my babys when she is born in September? Or how do i go about getting it?""

Do I need my car insurance for an oil change?

I know this might sound like a dumb question, but I'm 16 years old so it is my first time driving on my own and having my own car. I'm wondering, do I need proof of car insurance to get a basic oil change?""

At what point should I call up my insurance company & insure the car I plan on purchasing?

New to purchasing a used car, but I notice that DMV will require proof of insurance when registering the car, and even my bank will need proof of insurance to complete the transaction. Do I call my insurance company to setup insurance on the car before even paying for it!? I don't really understand the process.""

Motorcycle insurance question?

I will be 18 in two months and i want a bike. I am planning to go to the classes which i assume lowers insurance. I also thought by having a smaller bike would cut insurance costs. I only plan to ride around town and not on the highway. If i bought a 250cc bike like a GZ250 or a Honda Rebel, how much would seasonal insurance be roughly? I only want the types of insurance that are mandatory in order of me being on a budget.""

Are there any good Websites about Insurance ?

For someone who is newbie in Insurance , Also if it contains cases and Q&A it would be best Does anyone know any ???""

Does your insurance go up after getting a speeding ticket?

I live in BC. Does your insurance go up after getting a ticket? (specifically a speeding ticket)

Is it legal to be declined health insurance for this reason?

I applied with a major insurance company in California, am a single vegetarian in my mid/late 30s no children, extremely healthy never been diagnosed with anything, exercise regularly. I guess they dug up that I had taken a fertility drug in the past - I was never even diagnosed as infertile - it's a really cheap common drug that stimulates your ovaries to produce more eggs but I had no partner to get pregnant with so to was just something I got from a fertility doctor if I wanted to get pregnant with donor sperm. That's not even covered by insurance if I ever want to do that again and the drug's like $20 you can practically get it over the counter it's so common I know tons of women who use it. I didn't even apply for maternity care to be included in my insurance, just a basic policy. Is it legal for them to decline me because of this? So if a woman has a baby they are no longer eligible for insurance? Most women who get pregnant take this drug (including both my sisters) yet they still have insurance. Was it legal for the pharmacy to give them this info? I don't know how else they found out.""

What is the difference between permanent life insurance and whole life insurance?

I'm taking a class on finance, and I'm really confused about this concept. If it helps, here's what my textbook says: Permanent life insurance continues until the premiums are stopped or the death benefits are paid out. The cash value of the insurance increases as the premiums accumulate. With whole life insurance, the premiums, death benefits, and cash value of the insurance remain fixed. At the time of the insured's death, the cash value of the insurance becomes the insurance company's and the death benefits are paid to the beneficiaries.""

""Anyone with Progressive, are they a good reliable insurance?""

I am thinking of switching to them, due to a good rate and seems like a decent coverage. Has anyone had any problems with their insurance though?""

Health insurance?

What is the best bet? Who is the best company? who should i see about this? an insurance agent? How to find good?

How can the citizens pay the the deductibles for the only health insurance policies that are affordable?

I work 2 part time jobs and neither offer health insurance, so in 2014 I will have to buy some. One comparable to the one I had when I worked a full time job would cost $600 a month but would cover prescriptions with a $20 copay for generics with a $1500 deductible and a $4500 out of pocket maximum. That is out of what I can afford. The one I can afford is only $219 a month but has a $7500 deductible which would have to be met for any benefits and there is a $12,500 out of pocket maximum. If I got very sick I would be wiped out with that one, so it seems that I am in a Catch 22. I don't make that much money ($8 and $10 for the 2 jobs where I work 24 and 18 hours a week respectively.) Now I just pay the doctor out of pocket and I paid $375 this year for office visits and $150 for medicine. That was affordable and now I am forced to pay a premium in addition to the same amounts I paid for the same service. This thing is making me nervous. Affordable to me is no insurance. Give me a cyanide pill if I get a terminal diagnosis because being in the hospital and wiped out financially is not a good quality of life.""

Does getting married change your insurance?

I am currently covered by my parents health and dental insurance plan, but if I were to be wedded, would I no longer be able to use their insurance? I've been told that it changes, but I've also been told It is no longer like that anymore since Obamacare.""

Which is the best of the car insurance price comparison websites?

And is there like a website that you can go to that lets you compare them easily?

What is the cheapest insurance company for a teen that's on a seperate policy?

I'm getting a car in about 2 months and I just wanted to know what the cheapest insurance company would be for someone that's a new driver with their G2.

Gieco insurance rate?

Ok I got a auto quote and I lied on the online form I said I have no tickets and car crashes.I do have some Im 18 years old And If I chose this company will they find the tickets? I did give my social number.

Insurance estimation for a 1998 - 2001 Mitsubishi Eclipse for a 17 year old?

Hi, i am 17 years old, active duty in the military an i am trying to buy a Mitsubishi Eclipse, although my mom keeps telling me that my insurance will be through the roof. Does anyone have an idea of how much it might cost me? For full coverage, in California? I understand that the Eclipses have a high death rate because they are quick, an teenagers tend to test the waters a little bit. However i am a responsible driver but i do want either an Eclipse or a Trans Am. Your time is much appreciated:) thank you!!""

A question about insurance on a car?

ok i live in england, and i am 27yrs old, i drive and have my own insurance which is fully comp, as i am over 26 i can drive any car third party, my boyfriend is just starting to learn to drive and since neither of his parents drive, hes going to have to get his own car with his own insurance on, which is obviously going to be quite high as hes a new driver, hes 20yrs old. we got told that if he put me on his insurance as a second driver then it would work out a bit cheaper for him, but im wondering if this is true, as i can drive his car anyway on my insurance, so im not sure if its legal to go on his or if they will let me. any advice would be appreciated.""

Will my inusrance go up with a speeding ticket?

The other day i was driving and got pulled over for going 80 on a 65. i live California. I am 19, a student, and this is my first ticket ever. I was wondering if my insurance would go up. i wanted to hide it from my parents, if insurance goes up then i wouldnt be able to hide it. Also, anyone know what it would cost me? If i do driving school to erase it, would it still make insurance go up?""

kia insurance bakersfield

kia insurance bakersfield

https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/does-marital-status-affect-my-auto-insurance-premium-george-clark/"

[johannacantsing]

i never would have imagined that at one point in my life i would text my manager saying i elbowed a supervisor on purpose bc i didn’t want her to hear it from someone else.......................... yet here we were on this fine thursday morning

so the manager who gave me skeevy vibes from the first time i met him (i never shoulda given him the benefit of the doubt; honestly no man has ever proven worthy of it in my experience) has been making extremely patronizing comments literally all the time and there was an Incident™ with one of my work friends and she talked to the assistant manager who was there and like ....wtf is going on?!?!?!?!?!?!?! bc Friend never blows up/uses crass language on the floor

so right after i was like “hey Assistant Manager- he also like hurts my feelings with similar comments like constantly” and she was like on the war path,,,,, which was a fearsome, awe-inspiring sight (but now she’s on maternity leave ;_;

and throughout his time at the store i’m at, he just keeps coming up to the girls at the store and standing SUPER FUCKING CLOSE- like within a few inches of my(/others’) body, which is so predatorial and literally immediately engages my sympathetic nervous system so i would just straight-up freeze and literally STOP BREATHING bc that’s what animals do when they’re scared

and then i was like ‘no, he’s not gonna get the fucking message apparently even tho he already got a Talk about respecting female coworkers’ so i started occasionally leaning but usually lunge stepping away immediately when he did that (which again was multiple times during even a short shift, and that again makes me fear for my life on an instinctual level every fucking time) 

all the while i’ve been telling basically every single person that he makes me feel bad about myself with his words and physically unsafe with his actions bc i just won’t fucking shut up about it bc i want everyone to know so if anything happens that’s there in like the collective conscience of every girl who works at my store

then yesterday- yesterday!

yesterday i’m on my break- just a ten- i’m starving.  i’m in line to get food.  Creepy Manager just got done.  he comes into the line and .........

he stands within a few inches of me.  again.  i lunge step away.  he does it again, like basically chasing me like a literal predator.  only this time he’s an inch away from me.  THIS GUY INVADES MY SPACE AND WAS A FUCKING INCH AWAY FROM ME AFTER I MOVED AWAY FROM HIM THE FIRST TIME.  SO i’m literally drowning in adrenaline bc i get terrified when people (men especially) do that to me so i’m like ‘fuck it- i don’t even care if i get in trouble- i need him to get the goddamn message and get the fuck away from me right the fuck now’ so i elbowed him and with my clear, precise (loud) voice proclaim “Do Not stand that close to me!  It makes me Uncomfortable!”  

and so he’s like “well i didn’t know u did like it” and i’m legitimately flabbergasted and just so, so enraged at the fact that he was obviously willfully ignoring my discomfort bc he thought it was funny or whatever

so i (still projecting my voice so he hears every fucking perfectly) incredulously inform him that i had been lunging away from him and he “””””””didn’t notice”””””””””” so i demonstrated a lunge away and was like “u didn’t Notice that?!”

and he was obviously trying to get himself off the hook so, this absolute piece of shit, he just says “i’m not good at picking up cues from girls”

.............................................................. sure u tell everyone that so that when girls start complaining to Manager about all the PREDATORY behavior then u have that instead of stopping to think why all these girls are doing this.  and don’t even TRY to tell me ur doing that to the boys, dickhole!  i’ve watched!!!  i’m hypervigilant around men, ever more so when i actively distrust someone instead of like.... basic distrust.

and i just turned the fuck around bc i knew i’d start legitimately screaming about how sexist and just horrible he is in the middle store if i tried to respond before cooling down a bit bc again i was full of fury, adrenaline, vietnamese cold brew, and not much else

also i made sure to note that he did NOT apologize, nor did he say he would stop (which of course makes me still feel unsafe around him)

he only made excuses 1- didn’t notice, 2- i’m a girl, so he can’t be bothered to figure out how we do things. women are half the population asshole. (why the fuck would any woman go anywhere near him?? how is he married????  who would willingly have incourse and a child with this shitstain????????)

so i waited until i cooled down a little and texted basically this to our manager, (with less drama, swears, and personal bias) and said he keeps doing this and it scares me so i lightly physically assaulted him.  i left out the bit about him acting like a predator and that he just made excuses but i’m ready to pull those out at a moment’s notice :)

and if he does it again or says a sexist comment to me (or another girl where i can hear it, some girls have told me some of the incredibly creepy and inappropriate things he has said) then i am fully prepared to walk off the floor and call not only our store manager but also the district manager, probably in tears bc i loathe confrontation, and tell them what the fuck is up :)