#cause i noticed i posted this pic twice in a row

[hugsfromdad]

I've been mia on here, but not mia in the disaster bisexual front. So lemme fill you in

Okay, so idk if I've talked on here over the past few months about a cute cashier, but I can't seem to find it on my blog, so imma assume I haven't.

Back in mid August, I got my kitten. I got him 2 weeks earlier than expected, so the day before I picked him up, I had to run out and get his supplies. My friend was coming over that day, so we decided to hang out (outside) at my house, go get ice cream, and then go to the pet store for my stuff. after we got all that I needed, we went into Market Basket to buy some snacks so we could sit out in the parking lot and talk for a few hours. Well, that's where this story starts.

I looked hella fucking gay that day. (Striped button up UNbuttoned like halfway, my huge choker chain, and then my white washed levi's with a white 'Sisters' belt, and white converses. I can post a pic later if y'all want) so anyways, I was expecting to get some looks and stared. I did. Whatever. Well, were checking out at the speed aisle, and I notice eyes on me. I normally glace around when I'm checking out to see who is working, but I was met this time by the gaze of a cashier two rows back. I glanced down cause I didn't want to be rude, but when I check again, she was still looking at me. So I intentionally held her gaze for a few moments as I took note of what she looked like. Then I finished checking out and left with my friend.

While I'm a disaster bi and will focus and freak out over the smallest interraction with a cute person, I have become aware that most people (my friends) don't read into moments like that and will make fun of me if I do. That being said, I told myself it was probably just in my head and not that significant; that she was just checking out my outfit and clocking me as either a gay guy out with his girlfriend, (which was pretty much the case) or a couple getting some things.

WELL, so right as I was trying to not make anything out of it, my friend turns to me and goes. "Did you see that cashier staring at you? Like, she kept looking at you." And I was like "OKAY SO IT WASNT JUST ME" and she was like "no, she was really looking at you. She's really cute, too." And thus it began.

She's got a great style (also gorgeous even with a mask on, but I was more intrigued and attracted to her style). I told her that I liked her style a couple months ago and she repeated it back to me. She wears multiple necklaces, rings, and somehow makes her store uniform look cool. When I first really took note of her, my immediate thought was "she gives me west coast vibes." My best friend agreed with me when we were in the store together and she was there. And she might not be from the west coast, but if she told me she was from san Fransisco, I would believe it in a heartbeat. She got like a modern Marissa from the OC style. (I didn't watch the show, only those couple gay scenes with her character in it, so don't come for me)

So anyways, for the first 3-4ish months, my brain would short circuit as soon as we would lock eyes. Like, I can't describe it besides just a fog or a mental lockdown. I could like make eye contact, but I would just be in constant panic. I also couldn't imagine what to do next. Thus, I would panic and choose to go in a different aisle than hers for the first while. I didn't know what to do with a gorgeous woman who had eyes on me. (ALSO; I would like to state that her vibes and style are so immaculate, that I almost expect her to be gay. I thought she was clocking me as another gay person at first, but then I realized that we gays don't stare at someone of the opposite gender THIS much. So she could be gay. Idk. I'm good either way.)

Back to the panic: so it took me awhile to actually get the nerve up to choose her aisle when I could. Then we finally like interacted. I finally got her name, and I like asked her how she was. This happened like twice, and then there was a time I came in right after seeing my nephews(socially distanced). It was a slower day, so I didn't feel hurried in moving along. I asked her how her day was, and she answered and asked how mine was. I mentioner being happy cause I finally got to see my nephews after months of not. She then asked how old they were. We talked for a moment before I knew I have to go. It was as I was picking up my bag that I paused and looked at her and said "I've been meaning to say, I like your style." She like paused and said thanks, and that she liked mine as well. I then said something like "see you next time" and left.

From then, I'd see her when I went in, but almost every time she was in the wrong lane. We'd lock eyes as I walked in, and as I checked out and left, but we didn't get to like talk. That is, until I was tagging along shopping with my mum the day after fucking election night.

I don't think I need to say that I was more anxious and distracted than I had ever been when going in, and glued to my phone; refreshing google and watching the numbers come in. I don't think I even looked up when I walked in. I was in another place. I should also mention that I had noticed that the cute cashier (that's literally my nickname for her) usually worked on the weekends. This was a wednesday. So I was NOT paying sttention. I just followed my mum around the store while watching my phone and trying to do the math to see if there was a possibility that biden could win. Well, my mother eventually stuck us in line to check out, and asks me to get off my phone and help her unload, thats when I lift me head, and I'm staring directly into her eyes.

She was bagging for our aisle, so she was just standing there in my direct line of sight. And she has been watching me, waiting for me to fucking finally look up.

I'm sure I looked beyond stunned. Because I was. I honestly was so braindead from the day, that it took me a moment of staring back at to her process as to what was happening. I got it together quickly tho and bantered and talked with her a bit as she bagged and I helped load. She definitely was doing more than most, if that makes sense. I challenged her to fitting all of the groceries onto one cart cause she said she could. It was fun, and I think I again said "see you around* or something like that as we left.

And once again, once we got outside, my mother now goes "oh that bagger was cute." And I told her that that was the cute one I had mentioned before. THEN SHE GOES "oh yeah I picked up on that vibe of y'all." And I WANTED to ask her what that MEANT, but I didn't want to push it and then have my mother know/be able to make things awakrd.

ANYWAYS, 3 chapters in, lemme get to last months. I fucking got in anxiety meds. AND MY WORLD CHANGED. my mental block and fog was GONE. I could finally see a pathway through to like actually talking talking to her. SO, I pulled out a receipt, wrote down my number, and stuck it in my wallet for the next time I saw her.

Welp, the next time that was, she was in the wrong lane and teaching a new cashier what to do, so there was no way I was gonna try and insert myself into that situation. BUT, as I was walking both in and out, we locked eyes as usual, but this time as I was leaving, I did like a quick smile which caused me to squint my eyes for a half second. It almost looks like when a cat does their slow blink at you. I saw her respond to that and like smile back at me as I left. It was the first time I had ever done anything that was direct and nonverbally flirty.

So, I had to go again last night. And my parents were putting us in strict lockdown for the next 10 days, so we had to stock up. Before we left, I rewrote my note. And I told my best friends what was happening, and no matter what was the situation, I was gonna give her the note.

Well, she wasnt there. I was extremely disappointed.

Annnnd that leaves us here. It's gonna be a good 10-14 days before I'm allowed to go out, but youd better fucking believe it when I say that imma be giving her my number the moment I see her next. So wish me luck.

And also in case anyone asks; I don't want to try any dating apps cause I hate them. Also I'm half asleep now she don't have the energy to go back and edit this. Hopefully it's coherent.

So I guess I'll update y'all when I eventually get to leave the house and see her again

[moritzstiefelwiki]

It's Called Peacocking and I Will Have None of It

Hernst | 1748 Words | AO3

In which Ernst loves guys with nice abs and loses control of his mouth while trying to prove how not-gay he is.

This started as a joke and kind of? Spiralled a bit? I'm havin fun tho. Shoutout to @melgayiorgabor for beta reading and @alloftheus-es for helping me Keep Things Moving,, I lov u guys. Ab rant taken from here

Ernst loved Instagram. He wasn’t following a lot of people, outside of his friend group he followed 7 or 8 artists and a few photographers. He spent plenty of times in the tags so it didn’t matter, and besides he needed his feed to be as uncluttered as possible for a very important reason.

See, here’s the thing about his friend group- it included Hanschen Rilow and Melchior Gabor. They were both intelligent, insufferable (though in entirely different ways), and easy on the eyes. Of course, he had to follow Hanschen, the two of them were quite close and that’s what friends do. They follow each other. Melchior, of course, was close enough to Ernst that it made perfect sense to follow him as well.

Ernst would never admit it but the only reason he had gotten Instagram in the first place is because of the amount of times he caught Hanschen taking shirtless selfies- you can’t just stare at someone’s abs in real life, but it’s perfectly safe to do so through a screen. And, as he found out, Hanschen wasn’t the only one. He was looking through the accounts Hanschen followed, checking anyone with a familiar username or icon and found Melchior did the same thing. As did Bobby Maler.

Ernst didn’t have any reason to explain why he followed Bobby, the two of them had spoken maybe twice in the past year, but he had to. Bobby, Hanschen, and Melchior were all well-built and had no problems with showing off.  

And god, he was glad that they did.

Ernst was scrolling lazily through his feed as he ate his lunch. Wendla was leaning against his shoulder as she chatted with Ilse. He put his phone down so he could rummage through his bag for his water bottle, not bothering to lock the screen.

“Why does Hanschen post so many pictures of his abs?” Ernst turned to Wendla as she spoke, she was looking down at his phone where one of Hanschen's many pics of him lifting his shirt up just so was displayed.

Ilse laughed, “He’s an asshole, it’s probably the only way he can get anyone to go out with him. Hey, Ernst do you know why he likes to post so many shirtless pics? You’re his best friend aren’t you?”

“I think he just likes the attention- look at the comments on this one,” he pulled them up and held his phone out to show her.

Wendla rolled her eyes, “I don’t think it matters why he does it, he posts way too many of these.”

Ernst disagreed, Hanshen could post a new one every hour and he would be more than happy to see them.

God, he sounds gay. Ilse is practically a mind reader, what if she suspects he likes Hanschen- she wouldn’t be wrong but- oh god-

“If I want to get a girl, I don't need to show my abs- mainly 'cause they don't exist. And I don't want to have to do this but I'm gonna. Why do people show their abs on the internet?” Why was he speaking? “Why is it that when I go on the internet I have to weed through so many photos of guys just- lifting their shirts up to expose this part of their stomach, which is rock hard by the way,” he cringed internally a little bit, that sounded gay, oh hell, “I don't know. I don't get it,” he paused for a moment.

“Why? What good does it do? Are they doing this and taking the photo thinking  that ‘maybe if I do this just enough, somewhere in Africa a young child will get to the watering hole knowing that I was thinking about them.’”

The girls were laughing. Why can’t he stop?

"'I need people to know that I've got a flat stomach because I don't want them thinking I've got some sort of weird torso hole because they're going to start putting things in it’"

What is he saying, what on Earth is that even supposed to mean?

"'If the internet knows that I have a flat stomach, we will win the war on terror.’"

He heard a third laugh, this time from behind him. “What, is that supposed to be me?” Hanschen. Perfect, just what he needed.

He could feel his cheeks start heating up a little bit.

Ernst didn’t think before continuing, he couldn’t afford to, “Look, it's called peacocking and I will have none of it, you animalistic fuck.  Maybe you should try working on something that matters instead of your lower torso-- where those lines go that point to your dick like a weird, subliminal message. If you want people to know about this whole area of your body, just put it on your business card. You could say like-  ‘Dick Johnson, ab enthusiast.’"

Ernst could see the concern creeping into Hanschen’s expression, tainting his amusement. “Are you alr-”

“That way they know they don't want to hang out with you.” Ernst hated himself for being responsible for the hurt look that flashed across Hanschen’s face.

For reasons unknown, he continued talking.

“You can usually tell that people have abs just by looking at them, nobody is ever surprised to find out that somebody has abs. Woah Dickhead Jones! I didn't-” he faltered for a second when he saw the way Hanschen's jaw clenched, “would have never guessed! Never in a million years would've known that you have a flat stomach.” He didn't love the look in Hanschen's eyes. “You only tweet about going to the gym all the time and you wear a t-shirt that's kinda like saran wrap"

Hanschen laughed again, this time it almost sounded forced, “you love it.” He did. “Look,  ladies you don't want a guy that has a flat stomach because the whole time he's with you he's gonna be thinking ‘Jeez, this might be good for my abs.’” Jeez, he really needed to stop talking. "'Oh, I wonder what my abs think of this.’" Oh, why is he still going on about this?

“And guys like me, we're only thinking, y'know, ‘I really hope this doesn't make me fart.’” Ernst wanted to curl up and die, “and that's for you really, that's all for you 'cause I don't care where I fart.”  He really needs to stop. “If my pants are off, it doesn't matter where I'm farting 'cause the whole front row is getting wet.”

Oh, God.

The girls were laughing but he paid no attention to them.

Hanschen wasn't laughing. His face was suspiciously neutral.

“We’ll huddle over the Homer, maybe do a little Achilles and Patroclus.”

Ernst hadn't missed the innuendo when Hanschen approached him after school and asked him if he wanted to study, he just hadn’t thought anything of it. It wasn’t unusual for him to say things like that- he’d been “flirting” and using pick up lines on Ernst for as long as he could remember. Sometimes he was cheesy, sometimes he was clever, sometimes he was dirty, and sometimes he was just downright terrible. Ernst had figured it was just practice- just Hanschen’s way of keeping his mind sharp for when he was actually flirting with someone.

He felt awful about the things he had said at lunch earlier that day and nearly declined Hanschen’s invitation to study, but he took the pick up line as a sign Hanschen wasn’t (as) upset anymore (not that he would ever admit to being hurt in the first place) and Ernst really needed help with calculus, he was dangerously close to falling behind again.

The walk to Hanschen’s house started fine, but it wasn’t long until they fell into a tense silence.

Hanschen was the one who broke it.

“You're very passionate about abs, aren't you Ernst?”

Somehow this threw Ernst off more than any of the things Hanschen had said in the past week- including the time he punctuated a breathy “I like to keep my hands busy” by squeezing Ernst's inner thigh.

“No.” What was the point in lying, if he couldn't talk to him about this then who? “Yes? Maybe not passionate but-” He shook his head before continuing, “I'm really sorry about what I said earlier. It's just-” He stopped walking. “I just really like all those pictures you post.”

Hanschen stopped as well and turned to face him. “Oh?”

“I didn't want the girls to know, I'm sorry, I got nervous and just started talking and I couldn't stop. I'm gay, Hanschen.”

“You're gay? You like men?” Hanschen looked incredulous. “You mean to tell me you're attracted to men and none of the flirting, none of it, had any kind of effect on you?” This time Hanschen was the one shaking his head, “Christ, I thought you were straight. Am I really that bad at hitting on you?”

“You- what?”

“Surely you must have noticed, I've been far from subtle about this for how many years?”

“I didn't? I mean, I did, I didn't think you meant any of it.”

“You can't be serious.” Hanschen sighed, “what on Earth would make you think that? You know I'm not straight.”

“Yes, but-”

“What's the problem then?”

“Why would you want to flirt with me?”

“Why would I- because I like you, you moron!”

“You what?” It was Ernst's turn to look incredulous. “But you're-” he gestured vaguely at Hanschen “-you.”

“What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“I don't know?” He paused for a moment as his mind caught up with the conversation, “hold on did you just say that you like me?”

Hanschen laughed, “how much clearer do I need to make myself? It's not a problem, is it?”

“A problem?” Ernst's hands were suddenly very interesting. “No, definitely not a problem.”

“So then wha- mmph!”

Ernst had, in a brilliant moment of definitely not thinking, all but lunged at Hanschen and kissed him.

He pulled away from Hanschen after he realized exactly what he had just done and looked at his (surprisingly flushed) face. He had a feeling his own face was pink as well.

Oh god, he really shouldn't have done that.

Hanschen brought his right hand up to gently cup the back of Ernst's neck and pull him into another kiss, this one brief and gentle.

Or maybe he really should've done it sooner.

“Let's go Ernst, this is hardly the place for Achilles and Patroclus.”

His calculus grade was about to drop, wasn't it?

#my writing #hernst #why do i only write goofy bullshit like this?? who cares its Fun