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preeningpisces · 4 days

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JJK Men vs. Tinder

What the men are like on Tinder! Non-Curse AU

AN: I discussed these with my sister & it’s such a fun topic. If you have any thoughts/headcanons, pls share them!

Includes: Choso, Geto, Gojo, Kenjaku, Nanami, Sukuna, Toji

Below the cut, toxic behavior, implied f!reader, enjoy!

Choso

❥ Photos: not the best at taking photos. They’re awkward, but in an endearing way. A classic above view selfie where he tries to look neutral/cool, but it ends up looking kind of pouty and oh-so babygirl. A photo with itadori with a forced smile, and one that itadori took of him while they were at an arcade & he won a plushie from a claw machine

❥ Bio: itadori did some major editing because Choso wrote like a whole paragraph that no one wants to read

Hi! New to the dating scene. If you like video games, anime or sci-fi too then should talk🖤

❥ Opener: pretty standard, afraid of coming off like a creep because he's awkward

hi how are you?

❥ Messaging: makes you feel like you’re messaging a bot at first because his responses are pretty fast because he's eager, but also straightforward and bland because he doesn't want to say something wrong. Itadori has to come in & do damage control until Choso can see you're interested. Very much a penpal--might be a week or more before he asks you out. He's the type that wants to have an emotional connection going on a date

❥ How he asks you out: he's nervous but he's direct. Stares the phone down until you reply

I really like you and want to meet you. do you want to go on a date?

❥ First date: he’ll take you somewhere sweet and fun, like an arcade or a carnival. Having activities takes some pressure off, which helps with his nerves a lot. Googled how to act on a date, so he brings flowers - aaaaw. Pays too, even if funds are tight.

❥ If it doesn’t work out: omg having to end things will STRESS HIM THE FUCK OUT. He's going to mull over the decision for a hot minute before he does it. He's apologetic, but makes it clear that he doesn't want to see you anymore

♡ ♡ ♡

Geto

❥ Photos: the best at taking photos. They’re pretty normal for the most part, one with him petting a cat, another at a cafe with Gojo and Shoko. But he has a pretentious black & white photo of him reading a book or staring off to the side. He looks so pretty it cancels out the cringe tho

❥ Bio: keeps it simple, he believes it's better not reveal too much. That's what getting to know someone is for, afterall. Definitely has his spotify connected

Looking for real connection, someone that's my bestfriend before anything else. Always looking for new music, any song recs?

❥ Opener: opens with something from your profile to show he actually read it and didn't just swipe because of your looks, and to start with an interesting convo!

Saw you like reading. What’s the best book you’ve read so far this year?

❥ Messaging: engaging conversationalist, but not the type to instant message endlessly. Doesn't take forever to respond tho, and if he's about to become busy he'll warn you. Will ask more questions about you than he will share about himself. Gotta keep up that mysterious art hoe vibe he ikes to give off

❥ How he asks you out: would ask you out pretty quickly, perhaps after talking for 2 days or a day and a half. You’d be instant messaging, and he just says your name as if he’s about to say something serious, & lets it hang there for a moment before following up with:

I’ve really enjoyed talking, we should go on a date

❥ First date: chill but gives you something to talk about. Museum, aquarium, bar with a jazz music night, pottery class, etc. Gentlemanly but in a cool way, if that makes sense? Not quite as strict as Nanami, but you will feel a bit like a princess. Definitely pays! Cuts out the awkwardness by saying he's going to cover things before you even go

❥ If it doesn’t work out: lowkey kind of dismissive! He’s not going to outright ghost you…but he’ll breadcrumb you until you bring it up

♡ ♡ ♡

Gojo

❥ Photos: has the most normal photos. Always looks like he’s having fun & hanging with people. One where he took an unwilling selfie with Nanami, another of him standing over a maximum height chart at an amusement park with an exaggerated pout, and a video deadlifting Geto at the gym with passerbys staring judgementally

❥ Bio: uses the stereotypical bios but ironically. You need 3D chess insight to know he’s joking because it kind of suits him LOL

If you like pineapple on pizza, it’s not gonna work 🙅‍♂️🙅‍♂️🙅‍♂️ looking for my partner in crime. The Pam to my Jim 🥰 short king 👑 let me climb you like a tree mens 14 shoes, if you know what I mean 😈

❥ Opener: Gojo likes a casual and playful approach. If your profile has something funny he'll open with that

heeeeey what’s up?

❥ Messaging: weaponizes girl texting. Playful, cheeky. Instant messanger most of the time, but will randomly disappear for a whole day and come back with a lame explanation like 'sorry, was busy with work'

❥ How he asks you out: he’d ask while you’re joking around, after you roast him. Will text for several days before meeting up

mmhm why don't you come say that to my face? 🤨 this weekend over coffee my treat definitely not a date or anything

❥ First date: surprisingly, he goes for the classic coffee shop, window shopping, or movie type dates. Very lackadaisical when planning--kind of stressful if you're a big planner or have a tight schedule. A lot more chill on the date than he was over text. Will pay for everything, obviously, might even buy something you see and casually mention liking

❥ If it doesn’t work out: straight up ghosts you - sorry buddy. He just doesn't like dealing with that mess, and to him, if you haven't been seeing each other that long he doesn't feel obligated to end things directly

♡ ♡ ♡

Kenjaku

❥ Photos: normal, flattering, down to earth. He wants people to swipe so he can mess with them. On other occasions, MIGHT use random people's photos and catfish just because he was feeling goofy. Has been banned SEVERAL times

❥ Bio: Kenjaku is tricky. His profile and approaches change all the time because he's the type that wants to do 'social experiments' on Tinder. I can see him doing the whole 'I made the most toxic profile to see if ppl will still match with me' or making one that comes off SO sketchy it's insane anyone would talk to him. Even worse, will make one looking for a serious relationship only to commit psychological warfare on the poor sap who matched.

❥ Opener: depends on what he wants. Very much a wild card. Some examples:

sends a questionable link - it's a photo of your house from Google Streetview

If being normal, like Geto he comments on something from your profile: you like hiking, have you been to X trail? It has great shade

❥ Messaging: eratic. Either endless chatter, or radio silence. Definitely the most verbose of the bunch--if you've caught his interest or bring up a topic he likes he's texting paragraphs. Will get bored easily if you're a dry texter. Occasionally sends voice memos because it's like a one-sided phone call LOL . Sometimes he asks out quickly, sometimes he doesn't. Sigh.

❥ How he asks you out: I'm a broken record at this point, but it depends on his intent! Sometimes he's charming, sometimes he's insane and wants to creep you out

I have tickets to X, want to join me?

That cafe you went to yesterday looks nice, we should go together sometime

❥ First date: if he's trying to charm you, he'll take you somewhere he knows you like (that he can stand) OR somewhere entertaining like an open mic comedy night. If he's being a menace, he'll take you somewhere really weird like a Quaker meeting (thank you fleabag). Or just stand you up. He'll actually be there, just to watch how you react

❥ If it doesn’t work: will gaslight you into believing YOU'RE the one with the problem and are the reason it isn't working. You might delete the app after suffering this demon

♡ ♡ ♡

Nanami

❥ Photos: his company headshot photo, a few work function photos that he’s cropped and are blurry. He’s not smiling in any of them, except for one of him accepting an award at work where he gave the smallest smile for the photo to look agreeable.

❥ Bio: fills it out like a job application. Straight to the point.

Dating with intention. I enjoy reading and cooking. I look forward to speaking with you.

❥ Opener: Nothing crazy - very standard but more formal than typical

Good afternoon, how are you doing?

❥ Messaging: very formal and polite, doesn’t like small talk but will engage in interesting convos. Doesn't reply instantly, but doesn't leave you hanging for hours--he's a busy guy, afterall. Respectful of your time, and expects that in return. Prefers phone calls! Especially while he's making dinner.

❥ How he asks you out: he’s very effecient, he’s not going to be your penpal. He’ll ask you out within the first day of talking if he’s feeling the right vibe. Thinks meeting in person is better for getting to know someone. Will arrange all the plans and make sure it works with both of your schedules comfortably

I would like to get to know you better. Would you be interested in dinner at XX?

❥ First date: classic dinner man! Won’t take you somewhere intimidating, but definitely something nicer. He doesn’t go on dates willy nilly, so he’s going to treat you right. Will be baffled if you offer to pay

❥ If it doesn’t work: Very respectful, of course. He'll let you know quickly as well and won't lead you on. Will thank you for going on a date with him and say it was a pleasure to meet you.

♡ ♡ ♡

Sukuna

❥ Photos: a shirtless pic with him flexing, one of those middle-aged man selfies where they look stern but also a bit confused bc they aren't sure they're doing it right LOL. One of his car or a bike. He's gotta look badass but kind of looks lame

❥ Bio: BOSSY. He basically has a DNI list but for swiping. Sees it as you being audacious if you swipe on him and aren't worth his time

If you're clingy, desperate, have kids or a moron don't bother

❥ Opener: will say something about your appearance - whether this is positive or negative entirely depends on why he swiped. Somtimes he'll swipe on ppl he finds ugly just to see if he gets a match. He's an asshole like that

You look sexy as hell in that 3rd picture

Don't get your hopes up. You're fucking ugly, just thought you needed to know

❥ Messaging: very dry texter. Don’t ask multiple questions, only 1 will be answered. Takes long to reply as well. Prefers calls, but doesn't like calls where it's just chatting to chat yknow?

❥ How he asks you out: basically tells you you're going out LOL. Will ask you out pretty quickly, he just doesn't care for texting that much

Come to X on Friday. We're getting food.

❥ First date: He's going to take you to dinner, but is one of those annoying mfers that's like 'if she won't get messy in public she's too full of herself' so it'll be like bbq or wings at a sports bar. 50-50 type of guy. He's not spending $$ on someone he doesn't know

❥If it doesn't work: oh you know he's going to be ruthless. Your ego isn't going to be wounded, it's going to be evaporated

♡ ♡ ♡

Toji

❥ Photos: only 2 photos - a shirtless, dirty mirror selfie with flash obscuring most of his face & a gym selfie where he’s flexing

❥ Bio: tinder isn’t important to him, so he isn’t going to put effort into his profile, but if it catches him the occasional hookup he won’t complain. One of those terrifying mfers that straight up puts their number on their profile (I'm always tempted to send them something insane)

Not on here often. shoot me a text if we match (XXX) XXX-XXXX

❥ Opener: he doesn’t usually open, you gotta text him first. What a bitch. If he does open he'll comment on a photo, something that stands out so it isn't odd to comment on it, but still invovles your appearance somehow so it lets you know he's basically checked you out. He knows being too bold will scare most ppl off

I like the hair. suits you

❥ Messaging: nonchalant, and doesn't reply quickly. Dry, but not as dry as Sukuna. Big breadcrumber - engages juuuust enough to keep you around

❥ How he asks you out: Toji’s intention is usually hookups, so he’s pretty straightforward & will ask if you want to meet that night. Too old for ‘you up’ or ‘wyd’

I’m at X. Want to join for drinks?

❥ First date: usually a bar. Then his or your place. Very low effort. Whether he pays or not depends on you, to be honest. If he gets the vibe you don't care, he won't offer. If he gets the vibe you will care, he'll pay. Very good at reading people

❥ If it doesn’t work out: ghosts, but keeps your number if he wants to hit you up again. You’ll probably get a text 3 months later LOL

♡ ♡ ♡

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findroleplay · 4 months

Note

- 21 y/o (please be over 18, preferably 20+. Have your age listed somewhere in your bio, either here or on Discord), NB.

- semi-literate, 3rd person narration+ dialogue, no ** (5-10 lines of text is alright. I can technically do literate but it's pretty tedious in that point)

- looking for a long term RP partner

- EET

- prefer roleplaying on Discord (I do love chatting about OCs and world-building elements so a server with different channels would be ideal)

-replies: whenever you're free, we have our own lives and I'll enter exam session soon enough. If we go one week without activity I'll reach out and feel free to do the same. If you don't respond then I'll consider ending the RP.

-triggers- anything that has to do with non consensual sexual activities and pregnancy. I'd like to stay as FAR away as possible from them.

Looking for a fandomless OCxOC rp, can include romance (and NSFW) tho it's optional, main genere I'm aiming for are mystery, historical fantasy, supernatural, etc. My OC is a demigirl and female presenting so keep that in mind moving forward. I'm open to basically any sort of queer interactions, but she's demisexual. Your character's gender doesn't matter at the end of the day. (FxM, FxF, FxNB, all welcomed, but I WOULD LOVE some FxF ships! Give me strong ladies, elegant ladies, cool ladies, demon ladies, I'm here for it 🤲) That being said if you really want to, I have a guy OC too, but he's more of a WIP, his character sheet isn't fully finished.

I have done some world building and came up with a magic system for her to use, the atmosphere I'm going for is Black Butler, Hellsing, Trinity Blood, Innocent Rogue (a few random examples), dark academia, gothic (as aesthetics). I have both Picrew versions of her and a Face Claim so I'm indifferent for your character. I have a few plots in mind but they include getting into detail when it comes to the world building so if the vibe I'm trying to communicate seems interesting to you then lmk and I can send over her character sheet. The plots generally revolve around solving cases, dealing with supernatural presences, maybe some family drama....

I also wouldn't mind if we implement the plot/ our OCs within the worlds I mentioned above, if that's something you'd prefer. (So the fandoms I would be interested in are Black Butler, Hellsing, Trinity Blood and Innocent Rogue) I can TRY to do double ups with canon characters but really, I won't promise anything.

I took this year off of roleplaying after parting ways with my previous long term RP partner (after ~6 years), but I wouldn't say I'm THAT rusty. Or at least I'd hope. I have been roleplaying for about 10 years now.

Interact and I'll reach out or, if you'd prefer, drop a message anytime, if you feel like it. Keep in mind the timezones.

#roleplay #rp #oc rp #original rp #fandomless rp

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randalsgrave · 10 months

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Sweetness and Light: Part Six

Holy Mother of GOD you guys. This part was literal hell to write. It's definitely a lot closer to the material I WANT to write, but good god, there was a LOT of it to write for this part. You'll see what I mean. Anyway, thanks for your patience for the last 4 months. I hope you guys enjoy this latest update!

Two casual weekend outings lead to some fairly interesting encounters.

BobxFemale!OC. F/C: Kacey Rohl

Word count: 9.6K

WARNINGS: colorful language; not beta-read (we die like men); discussion of toxic family dynamics; anxiety attacks

Recommended soundtrack: Sweetness and Light - Lush; Peace Frog - The Doors

***

Week four of training begins in earnest with the section unit, and as expected, it’s more in-depth and mind-boggling than the previous one. Katie - and everyone else, for that matter - was already anticipating the coming units being more challenging than the last. She wasn’t, however, expecting it to be the brain melt that it actually is.

She’s fully convinced she’s in over her head (way, way over her head) when she gets back to her hotel room Friday afternoon, head absolutely scrambled after a day of dense lecture and lab work, and collapses in the armchair by her window with an exhausted groan. Activities with little-to-no brain function are going to be an absolute must tomorrow - and likely Sunday too, if she wants to give her brain a chance to recuperate before Monday.

Luckily for Katie, the universe has just that in store for her.

Mostly.

It’s just past 08 the next day when she awakens to the chirp of her phone on the nightstand. Well, sort of awakens. She can barely crack her eyes open as she reaches out and slaps her palm against the hard surface, nor as her fingers curl around the phone and bring it to within inches of her face.

Turns out, it’s a text from Bob - nothing too out of the ordinary, considering how often they spend time together these days. She wonders what he could be up to at this hour.

She taps open the message, squints at the gray bubble on her screen. “Planning on getting breakfast in downtown SD,” it reads. “Wanna come with?”

Hm. Katie could go for a full breakfast plate. Yet…

Her fingers fumble their way across the keyboard. “I thought you weren’t a breakfast person tho.”

“I mean normally I’m not, but if it means I get to spend time with a friend like you, then I can be persuaded otherwise.”

Well then.

The flush is creeping across Katie’s face before she’s fully processed the message. Thank god he isn’t in the room with her; she’s pretty sure she’d die of embarrassment if he saw just how crimson-faced she is after reading that text.

But why is she, though? It’s an invitation to get breakfast with Bob. Breakfast with a member of the opposite sex is a total non-issue. Hell, it’s not like she hasn’t done this sort of thing dozens of times in the last couple of weeks with him. Granted, those ‘dozens of times’ are short mornings sipping coffee in his hotel room, but what does it matter?

It’s not a date. It is 100% not a date. In fact, as far as she’s concerned, as far as she’s forcing herself to be concerned, it’s the opposite. It’s a shared outing, something as casual and noncommittal as the hike they went on during their first week here. There’s no need for her to freak out and turn red like this. She needs to calm down, and right now.

Closing her eyes, Katie takes a deep, steadying breath, gives herself a moment to recompose before opening her eyes and tapping out a reply to Bob.

“Can I dress like a bum or do I have to put in some effort with my outfit?”

“Dress however you want. If it helps, I’m wearing jeans and a tshirt.”

Shit. No sweatpants for her then. “Put in some effort with my outfit, got it. See you down in the lobby in 10?”

“Yeah, that works.”

“Cool cool. Who’s driving?”

“Uhhhh, you know what I will. Least I can do to say thanks for driving me everywhere most days.”

“Works for me.”

Katie doesn’t give herself much time to think; she just sets herself in motion and goes. She quickly settles on jean shorts, an oversized worn green shirt with ‘FEAR THE DUCK’ scrawled across the chest, and her Birkenstocks. Then, it’s on to the bathroom. Teeth? Brushed and flossed. Face? Moisturized. Hair? Loosely French-braided. All things to suggest she made somewhat of an effort this morning, but not too much. Besides, why should she make a big fuss over how she looks? It’s breakfast, not a red carpet event.

Heaving a sigh, she grabs her phone, wallet, and sunglasses, and makes her way down to the lobby, where Bob’s waiting for her on one of the side couches. True to his word, he’s wearing jeans and a navy blue t-shirt. However, it’s a t-shirt that hugs his biceps just a little too tightly, and it’s all Katie can do not to outright ogle. Holy Christ, has he always had those?

C’mon idiot, say something - “You ready to go?” she asks with a bright - if not somewhat forced - smile on her face.

“Always.” Bob stands, palms his car keys, motions for her to follow. “You hungry?”

“Starving. Where are we going for breakfast anyway?”

“You ever heard of Harry’s Coffee Shop?”

Katie shakes her head. “Don’t think I have.”

“It’s this little diner-type place out in downtown. I’ve heard nothing but good things about it so I thought I’d go and check it out, y’know?”

“Fair enough.”

“Yeah. They’ve supposedly got really good cinnamon rolls.”

“So you’re a sweets for breakfast guy,” Katie says with a wry smile. “Wouldn’t have guessed that with the way you drink coffee.”

Bob snorts, almost as if it’s an obvious revelation. “Of course. It helps balance out the bitterness.”

The two are now making their way down the far right aisle of the parking lot, towards the nose of a dark gray car - a Subaru, Katie realizes when they draw closer. It’s one of the sporty hatchback models, complete with carbon-black rims and what’s sure to be its own bite under the hood, but it’s… small. Granted, Katie wasn’t sure what to expect (with Bob, she hardly ever knows these days), but she’s not entirely sure she expected this.

“A Subie, huh?” Katie’s lips curl into a gentle smirk as she ducks into the passenger seat. “Not really a big truck type?”

“Nope,” Bob replies, lips popping on the ‘p’. “I make a living flying around in a massive multimillion-dollar aircraft, but take comfort driving a little hatchback. Ironic, huh?”

“I mean, I guess.”

“End of the day, the less machinery I have to operate, the better.”

“Considering your car’s a manual, I’d call that ironic.”

“Oh har-har.” He sticks the key in the ignition, turns the car on. “Do you know how to drive stick?”

“Only in theory,” Katie says with a sigh. “I’ve tried so many times to learn from different people but I have the worst time trying to get-”

“-TOO MANY DOSES AND I’M STARTING TO GET AN ATTRA-”

Bob’s immediately slamming his hand on the audio power button with a grimace and a hissed ‘Jesus Christ’. Katie, though startled (more like scared shitless) by the sudden blast of music coming from Bob’s speakers, frowns, letting the lyrics roll around in her head like a ball in a roulette wheel. She’s heard those lyrics before, she knows it…

After a moment of contemplating, she glances over at Bob, brows furrowed. “…Was that Avenged Sevenfold?”

Bob cringes. “Teenage Bob was a big fan,” he replies sheepishly. “…You were saying, though?”

“I was saying that I have the worst time trying to get moving in first. Honestly, I think I’m just destined to drive automatic for the rest of my life.”

Bob scoffs as he maneuvers the car out of the parking lot with practiced ease. “Oh please - not like you’re much worse than I was. First few times I drove, it took me twenty minutes just to get moving in first gear. Twenty.”

“Twenty minutes?”

“Yep. It was bad.”

Katie can’t help herself. A snicker bubbles from within her. “Okay, yeah, that’s pretty bad.”

“Glad we agree on that,” Bob snickers back. “Anyway, um… If you ever wanna get better at driving stick, I’d be happy to help you practice.”

“You risk me breaking your transmission.”

“This baby can handle it. She’s sturdier than she looks. Seriously though, let me know. Your issue is nothing that practice can’t fix.”

“If you say so.” Katie pauses, contemplates, chuckles after a moment. “I promised myself I wouldn’t do anything too strenuous this weekend, ‘cause, y’know, this past week in class was hell, but uh, I guess… if you’re not doing anything tomorrow and are cool with me stalling your car a bunch of times, maybe…?”

Bob grins. “Let’s do it.” He wheels the car left, right, left, right, shifts seamlessly between the low gears as they drive off-base. “So, what are we listening to?”

Katie shrugs. “I mean, it’s your car; it’s your call.”

“Well, considering I stole your aux cord and played my music last time we went somewhere, I think it’s only fair that you get to do it this time.”

“Hmm…” Katie pulls up her Spotify playlists, thumbs through her myriad of songs while she chews on her bottom lip. Song-wise, there’s any number of directions she can go in - there’s Milo Korbenski and the Hot Garbage album; there’s My Bloody Valentine’s Loveless album (actually, on second thought, maybe not that one - the ‘noise’ aspect might be a bit too much this early in the morning); there’s copious amounts of Swervedriver and Catherine Wheel and Echodrone.

And then she scrolls past one song and suddenly, she knows what she wants to listen to.

“You ever heard of the band Lush?” she asks as she hooks her phone up to Bob’s soundsystem.

Bob shakes his head. “Can’t say I have.”

“Okay… How do you feel about shoegaze or dream pop-type music?”

“I mean, I’ll listen to anything once. Usually wind up liking whatever I listen to. And honestly, I’ve liked whatever you put on when you drive.”

“Good,” Katie smirks, “that makes me feel better about putting this on.”

And with that, she hits the ‘play’ button, and out comes the opening chords for Lush’s Sweetness and Light, ringing out in hazy, perfect harmony and glory. It’s a song she’s heard many times over the last several years, but it never gets old. There’s beauty in the lyrics’ sweet nothings and warm sentiments - and it’s beauty she’s all too happy to revel in, and to share with others willing to listen.

“I like it,” Bob muses over the music’s heightening volume. “Very spacey.”

“Yeah, that’s shoegaze for ya.” She settles back in the passenger seat, closes her eyes, smiles blissfully. “This is what happiness sounds like to me.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.” She swirls her hand through the air, loosely matches the rhythm of the song. “Love, adoration, and… sweetness and light.”

“Well, whaddaya say we play it good and loud?”

Katie’s eyes slide open, and Bob’s looking at her with a smirk on his face and his eyebrows quirked as he’s reaching for the volume knob.

He’s getting to know her quite well now, isn’t he?

She grins. “Crank that shit.”

Bob obliges, turning the dial up high just as the intro crescendos, spins into the main verses, the sound of saturated guitar and endless dreamy reverb soaking into them as readily as the morning sun does.

And Katie? Katie just grins, and grins, and grins. This. This is what makes her happy.

What a wonderful way to start things off today.

***

Harry’s Coffee Shop on Girard Avenue is a veritable time capsule of the ‘60s. Big and white with red lettering adorning its roof, its outside appearance serves as a small taste of its overall retroness. Inside, it’s tenfold, with walnut-colored wood paneling running the whole perimeter of the restaurant, two-tone leather-covered booths, schoolhouse pendant lights hanging over the diner counter, green carpeting, and framed photos of various sizes hanging on the walls, telling the restaurant’s nearly 60-year-old story in shades of faded color and black and white.

The restaurant is buzzing with activity when Bob and Katie walk in through the double doors. Customers occupy every other booth and table. Waiters breeze from spot to spot, customer to customer, carrying various elements of each person’s breakfast. Somewhere through the din of conversation and hustle-bustle, the Doors’ Peace Frog beats out a jaunty, keyboard-laden rhythm that sets the tone for the morning. Every inch, every movement, every sound contained within the space screams ‘busy Saturday morning’ - and yet, that only makes the restaurant all the more inviting.

Katie and Bob quickly find themselves seated in a small booth at the front, right beside a window that looks out at the street and surrounding neighborhood. It’s the ideal place for people watching that maintains some semblance of privacy, of anonymity, and normally, that would be a big draw for two people like Bob Floyd and Katie Garland.

But neither of them are here for that.

Bob’s in the middle of regaling Katie with tales of past OCS instructors when they’re seated, and he hardly misses a beat as they take their spots opposite each other. “I had this one RDC when I went through; still not entirely sure what I think of him,” he says. “He always had this blank, borderline-bored look on his face, and it stayed that way the whole damn time we were going through it. He’d be absolutely beating our asses in the compartment and it would just be” - Bob passes his hand over his face, which immediately relaxes into the blank look he speaks of - “completely flat.”

“By any chance, was it Lieutenant Reynoso?”

“Yeah, actually, it was.”

Well, boy howdy.

“Reynoso was one of my RDC’s when I went through,” Katie smiles wryly. “That guy honestly scared the shit outta me for a while.”

Bob’s face instantly splits into a grin as a laugh bubbles from him. “Scared? Why?”

“I didn’t know what he was thinking! He always had that blank look in his eyes, AND major resting bitch face; I didn’t know if he was contemplating murder or playing the Mii Channel theme on loop!”

“Oh c’mon, it wasn’t that bad!”

“Oh bullshit - tell me you weren’t intimidated as hell by him that first week.”

“...Okay, maybe a little.”

Katie giggles. “See? Reynoso was fuckin’ scary. Probably would’ve stayed scary if he’d let the other RDC’s do the talking. Oh man… Who else did you have?”

“Let’s see…” Bob holds up his hand, counts off instructors with his fingers. “There was Gunny Haltermann, MMSC Stennis-”

“No fucking way, you had Stennis?!” This conversation keeps getting better and better. “He was one of the RDC’s for my brother div!”

“No kidding.”

“Oh my god, this is wild - did he play Tupac during your div’s PT sessions?”

“Sure did. Had the lyrics to Ambitionz az a Ridah practically memorized after a few weeks with him.”

“Oh my god, yes, same.” Katie is practically giddy with excitement over the new information; after all, what are the odds of knowing someone who had virtually the same training experience as you, the same mentors and instructors? “He played that shit all the time during our sessions with brother div. It was kind of nice, actually. Like, nice in the sense that we got to hear music other than cadence during training.”

“Honestly, nice that we got to hear music, period,” Bob comments.

“I’ll take a black coffee, thanks - yeah, true. Y’know I made a list of music I was gonna listen to the second I finished training?”

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm. I had, like, somewhere around 75 songs on that list,” she laughs.

“Make that two black coffees, ma’am - what was the first one?”

Katie snickers. “Highway Tune - Greta Van Fleet. Specifically so I could blast it as I was leaving base and yell ‘see ya fuckers’ out the window.”

“Sounds about right,” Bob snickers back. “Kinda figured you’d have shoegaze at the top with how much you listen to it.”

“Oh trust me, there was plenty of it there. If I remember correctly, song number two was a My Bloody Valentine song.”

“Hell of a band name.”

“It belies the dreamy acid trip vibe.” With their coffee having been delivered by their waitress, Katie takes a sip, proceeds to doctor it with a packet of creamer. “Enough about me though - I wanna hear more about you.”

“The La Jolla Scramble, cinnamon roll on the side please - uh, not really much to tell. Got orange-carded once for screwing up facing maneuvers. Listened to a lot of Tupac and Childish Gambino when Stennis was leading things. Honestly, you’d have gotten a better answer if you’d asked me about college.”

“I’ll have the Mediterranean omelet and a cinnamon roll on the side, please - well, I guess this is me asking you about college then.”

Bob purses his lips, ponders for one, two, three seconds. “Well, I went to the University of Georgia, graduated with a degree in mechanical engineering. In and out in four years.”

“Definitely weren’t in NROTC while you were there, if the, uh, OCS bit was any indication.”

“Nope,” Bob replies with a shake of his head and a sip of his pitch-black coffee. “Honestly, the Navy wasn’t even a thought in my head until after I graduated.”

“Wasn’t in mine either.” Katie pauses - then smirks. “Did you have a raging hard-on for your college football team?”

Bob scoffs, and loudly at that. “Hardly. Couldn’t care less about football.”

“Isn’t college football a big thing where you’re from, though?”

“It is - but you forget this is me we’re talking about,” Bob replies wryly. “Only reason you’d really catch me saying ‘go ‘dawgs’ was so I didn’t get the shit beat outta me, y’know?”

“Mmm. So not much of a football guy, got it.”

“Eh, not much of a sports guy, really. I like hiking though. And biking. Shit, put my happy ass on a bike and I’ll ride it ‘til the cows come home.”

“So what I’m hearing is that you like anything that gets you outside and exploring the world around you.”

“Exactly.” Another sip of coffee, then Bob sets his hands one on top of the other. “Your turn now. I think I know what you’re gonna say, but where’d you wind up for school?”

“U Oregon. Go Ducks and all that, woo woo, rah rah.”

“Kinda sounds like you weren’t much of a sports person either,” Bob comments with a chuckle.

“Sports, no. School pride, yes. I loved it there.”

“Very well then. Whadja major in?”

At that, Katie snorts out a laugh. “Political science,” she says around the rim of her coffee mug. “I had this convoluted - and I mean really convoluted - reasoning that it would be useful for working in nonprofit - something about ‘understanding how our laws and policies work and using that knowledge to help nonprofits with their missions’.”

“Yeah, how’s that working out for you now?”

“I dunno,” Katie laughs, “ask the Navy.”

“Man, I’m one to talk, though. All this ‘ooh and ah’ with a mechanical engineering degree and you don’t see me putting it to good use eith-”

“No, you cut that out; you actually have a useful degree. Mine’s a glorified scrap of paper that’s going to sit in my important files and collect dust for the rest of my life. And clearly, I’m putting my knowledge of U.S. and foreign policy to good use as a pilot in the Navy, right?”

“I mean, just because you’re not using it now, doesn’t mean it’s useless for the rest of your life. Pretty sure all the three-letter agencies would go nuts for someone like you. They’d be worth considering when you’re done doing barrel rolls and shooting things out of the sky.”

Yeah, I suppose.” An amused smirk makes its way across Katie’s face. “I could go to work for the NSA and do some spooky government stuff. That would be pretty neat.”

“See? That’s the spirit. Just gotta consider the possibilities.”

It’s not long before their waitress comes ‘round with their breakfast, fluffiest of omelets loaded with filling, lustrous scrambled eggs, and hand-sized cinnamon rolls painted with white icing, and goddamn, does it look good.

More than that, it tastes good. Katie takes a bite of the massive cinnamon roll she’s been presented with and her eyes practically roll to the back of her head. Yeah - Bob definitely knew what he was doing when he picked this place out.

He’s in a similarly rapturous state with his plate of scrambled eggs, Katie sees when she regains (some of) her senses and looks across the table at him. “Remind me to come here every weekend for breakfast from now on,” he all but groans. “Christ, this is good.”

“If the food I get is this good, honestly, I’d trust you to take me anywhere.”

“Good,” Bob snarks around a mouthful of eggs, “there’s a lotta places I wanna try while we’re here.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that,” Katie snarks back.

Silence soon fills the space between them, the easy kind borne of mutual understanding and comfort with one another. Katie tucks into her omelet and cinnamon roll in turns, pondering the state of things. It’s… strange. Good strange, to be sure, but still. She’s not really the type to sit comfortably in silence with another person. People have expectations for her, for the interactions between them - expectations that usually don’t involve silence. Anything contrary to that is… unnatural.

But not here. Not with him.

With Bob, it’s different. Katie doesn’t have to worry about filling the empty spaces with talking and constant noise. She can just be, exist in the quiet moments. Hell, they both can. It’s nice, being this kind of comfortable with each other - and no doubt Bob has been thinking the same.

She’s cutting off a piece of omelet to eat when Bob breaks the silence between them. He sips his coffee, clears his throat. “So, uh… Not to bounce around or anything, but… What made you decide to join the Navy?”

There it is - the question that everyone inevitably asks her. Oh boy.

Katie takes the bite of her omelet, chews thoughtfully, shrugs. “I mean, it’s not like I was ‘unfulfilled’ or anything. I went home, got a job at a nonprofit for homeless veterans, and it was great and all, being a part of my hometown in that capacity, but…”

The truth. It lingers on the tip of Katie’s tongue, waiting to make its appearance in the conversation. And god, does she want to let it out, but…

“It didn’t… I dunno, add up. Job wasn’t really going anywhere and I felt stuck. Trapped, actually.”

“Yeesh, don’t I know that feeling.”

“Like, it was at work and at home. Practically everyone I’d gone to school with had up and left Portland and started living their lives, and I was just… home, suffocating. Tethered to my house like I’d been for the last eighteen years, and… I didn’t want to be that anymore.”

“So you joined the Navy.”

Yeah, pretty much. “Walked into the nearest recruiting office and asked what was available for someone with a degree,” Katie says. “The AO2 I talked to basically told me I could do anything, buuuuut he also told me that he’d personally kick my ass if I came in and tried to pick a rate without putting in a package for OCS. Told me it’d be a waste of my degree if I went enlisted.”

“You actually had an AO tell you to go officer? Man, I had a CTIC at my recruiting office and he was hell-bent on trying to get me to go enlisted.”

“Thank god you didn’t; you make a lot more sense as a WSO.”

“And you make a lot more sense as a pilot.”

Heat and blush (seriously, what is with you?) creep their way across Katie’s cheeks. “Took me until BFT to realize it, but I’m glad we agree on that.”

She’s about to slip another piece of omelet in her mouth when her phone vibrates and chimes from her pocket. She pops the piece into her mouth, pulls it out to look at the message that’s come through - most likely from Fanboy, she thinks. No doubt he’s dying to know what she and Bob are up to (nosy bastard he is).

Only it’s not from him.

No - it’s from someone much worse.

“Katherine, we need to talk,” the text reads. “Your behavior last week was absolutely unacceptable and needs to be addressed immediately.”

Carrie. It’s all Katie can do not to groan out loud, not only at the timing of the text, but at the sheer audacity of it. Her behavior was unacceptable? Was she being serious?

Keeping her face smooth and neutral proves to be difficult as she types out a reply. “Pretty sure I told you not to contact me. AND to give Naomi her phone back.”

Carrie’s response is almost immediate. “What gives you the right to talk to your mother like that?” she seems to snap through the phone. “Call me NOW.”

The reaction is almost instantaneous - stomach in knots, shakes radiating outwards from within. No, not this, not now. She doesn’t need this woman barging back into her life and bullying her.

Tightness in her chest is starting to set in. Anxiety. Strong anxiety. Oh no. Oh, no, no, no.

Katie stands abruptly, shuffles out of the booth with a mumbled “gonna use the head” and takes off in a brisk march towards the bathroom. If it wasn’t for the fact that Bob and the entire restaurant have their eyes on her, she would be running. She doesn’t want people - especially him - seeing her on the verge of an anxiety attack.

She shoves through the restroom door in the back of the restaurant, trudges to the nearest sink and curls her body above it, hands gripping the edges white-knuckle tight and breath coming in shallow shudders. God damn it. God fucking damn it. This isn’t happening. It can’t be happening. Two texts from her mother and it’s enough to reduce Katie to a near mess in a diner bathroom. It’s as if the last four years of silence and purposely missed calls and texts never even existed. Worse still, it’s as if she’s back in college and her mother is down the road from her, ready and waiting for her to do something, anything to snatch her away and prove that she is helpless without her.

That she is nothing without her.

Katie swallows thickly, grips the sink edge so hard that her hands ache. She’s wrong. She’s a fighter pilot in the world’s finest navy, a warrior, an angel of death and savior of people. She is all of these things and more, a real powerhouse of ‘something’ - and she did all of it without her mother. Carrie can go fuck herself. After all the shit she’s put her through, Katie owes her nothing.

She lifts her head, stares down her reflection in the mirror. “I owe her nothing,” she utters in a low voice, steeling it against the shaking wracking her body. “I owe her nothing. Not a phone call, not an explanation text, not a single goddamn thing. I owe her nothing after everything she’s put me through, and I will not let her guilt me into anything else.” She repeats the words, over and over and over again, wills them to stick. I owe you nothing. I owe you nothing. I owe you absolutely NOTHING.

Eventually, the words do stick, and she’s able to calm down enough to suck in a deep breath and steady herself. She can do this. Carrie can rage and harass her daughter all she wants, but she has no power over her. Katie won’t let her have it.

She takes another big breath in, blows it out nice and slow. She’s ready. She can face the world again.

With a final breath, Katie turns and makes her way back out into the restaurant, mind working its way back to the point before Carrie interrupted her and Bob. She was having such a nice time with him before she had to show up… She just wants to go back to that point and forget that the last 5 minutes ever happened…

Unfortunately for her, there are other plans in store.

When Katie makes eye contact with Bob, there’s no missing the gleam of concern in his eyes. Oh no. “Hey, uh, your phone’s been ringing nonstop for the last five minutes.”

Oh fuck me, she didn’t - “Has it now?”

“Yeah. Same person too, from the looks of it.” Bob’s face colors as the implication that he might’ve done something stalkerish dawns on him. “Not that I was going out of my way to get in your business, you left your phone facing up and I could see the name on caller ID-”

“No no, you’re fine; I get what you’re trying to say.” Katie slides back into the booth and takes her phone in her hands, stifling another groan when she sees the never-ending list of missed calls from her sister. Only it’s not Naomi, she thinks, her thoughts edged with a growl. Christ, Carrie’s in fine form today.

No sooner does the thought pass through her head than her phone starts ringing again, ‘Naomi’ scrolling across the top of the screen, the damn thing playing that stupid marimba ringtone while it buzzes expectantly in her hand. It has to be the 11th time her mother’s tried to call her now.

Nope. Nope, nope, nope. She clicks the power button to decline the call, switches it to silent mode, and all but whips it to the far end of the table, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose in a death grip. Stepping out to fend off an anxiety attack was bad enough, but this… She does not need this today. She absolutely does not need this today.

“…You’re not gonna take that?”

Katie doesn’t even hesitate. “Nope.”

“You sure? Whoever’s calling must really wanna get a hold of you if they’ve been going like that.”

“Yeah, well, she can choke.” Katie stabs her fork into the piece of cinnamon roll she’s just cut up, sticks it in her mouth and chews stiffly. Christ, she can’t believe this is happening right now.

“Oh.” Bob’s gaze shifts down, blinks as he contemplates his next move, if it’s even appropriate to have one at this point. Katie’s hoping he drops the subject and moves on to something different, but she can’t say she’s surprised when his eyes steel and he looks back up at her, trying to understand. “What’s, um… What’s the story with” - he steals a glance at the list of missed calls - “Naomi?”

“She’s my little sister,” Katie replies around a sip of coffee. “Problem is that she’s not the one spamming my call log.”

“Oh? Who is then?”

“My mother,” she mutters.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Silence falls between them again, permeates the air for one, two, three, four, five seconds. This silence, however, is uncomfortable, uneasy, heavy. It’s not often that Carrie and her bullshit make their existence public. In the four years she’s been in the Navy, Katie has worked hard to keep it that way. Now? She’s being forced to acknowledge it (in public, and to one of her friends, no less), and she hates it. Hates it, hates it, hates it.

“I don’t…” Katie closes her eyes, takes a long, deep, steadying breath. No one wants to hear this. Why the fuck am I doing this? “I don’t have a good relationship with my mom.”

She pauses, looks at Bob, wills him to say something, anything in reply. But he doesn’t. He just stares, gives her that intent look that tells her he’s listening and that he’s not saying anything until she’s good and done, REALLY good and done.

Fuck. Not the reaction she was hoping for.

Well then. Looks like brevity is about to be her best friend for this conversation.

“It took a long time for me to realize it, but she’s… damaged. Like, really fucking damaged. And she’s done stuff that’s messed me and my sister up over the years.”

“Like what? Um, if you don’t mind me asking.”

So much for keeping this brief. Fuckity fuck.

Katie licks her lips, sucks her teeth in thought. “Well… A lot, really, but uh… Gaslighting, emotional abuse, manipulation… You uh, you name it.” Her chest aches from the truth and the rawness of it all straining against it, but she forces it back, forces it deep inside her where it can’t see the light of day. She doesn’t want to talk about it with Bob anymore, not right now, not when things are going as nice as they are and he thinks she’s a good person to be around. He certainly wouldn’t think that if he knew, would he, Katherine Mae? You’re not damaged. You’re worse than damaged; you’re categorically shattered-

“…Katie? You okay?”

Katie blinks, punches Carrie and her noxious words deep into the recesses of her brain. She really needs to stop having moments like these.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” she mumbles. “It’s, um… It’s a tricky thing for me to talk about.”

“It’s all right; I shouldn’t have asked about it in the first place. I’m sorry.” Bob takes a long, ponderous sip, eyes following the people strolling on the other side of the window. “Guess that explains why you joined after college.”

“Yeah. Shitty circumstances, but definitely the best decision I could’ve made.” Katie’s mouth curls upwards in a soft smile. “I have a job I love, I’ve already been to a few cool places, and I’m basically in an honors program for fighter pilots… I’d say I’m doing pretty okay these days.”

“I’d agree with you.”

“Bonus points for some of the people I’ve met recently, too,” she adds, the smile growing just the tiniest bit larger. “I haven’t known them long but they’ve made a pretty big difference in my life.”

At that, Bob’s cheeks go pink and he grins sheepishly. He still can’t quite smoothly take a compliment, but at this point Katie doesn’t care and she chuckles to herself. If anything, she finds it rather endearing.

They soon return to the silence of before, tuck into their breakfasts amidst the din of the restaurant and with a renewed sense of ease and contentment. There’s beauty in being comfortable with silence. The simple pleasure of their company is enough for them; there’s no real need to speak.

Until…

“We’re being watched.”

Bob’s buttering a piece of toast when he says it, and he says it so nonchalantly and with such a calm face that at first Katie thinks he’s joking. But, she follows the line of his gaze, and sure enough…

She’s not really noteworthy, the old lady sitting by herself at a nearby table. She nurses a cup of coffee that’s far more milk than it is coffee, and picks slowly at a raspberry danish on a small white plate. If she’s not holding the coffee in her veined right hand, then it’s a weathered copy of some old romance book. So absorbed is she in her little routine of coffee, pastry, and reading that Katie wonders if Bob’s imagination might be playing tricks on him.

However, all of that goes out the window when the lady looks up and catches Katie’s gaze with her own. She grins at her, and suddenly, inexplicably, Katie has a bad feeling about where this is heading.

“Y’know,” she says, “I’ve had dozens of boyfriends in my time, and none of them ever treated me the way he treats you. You’ve got yourself a good one there!”

Jesus Christ. Jesus fucking Christ.

Katie’s not sure who turns beet-red first: her, or Bob. She’s also not sure who starts coughing first. Oh my god. That actually happened.

She can’t believe it. First there’s Fanboy making jokes during PT. Then there’s Halfpint making snide comments whenever he sees them together. Now there’s some old lady mistaking them for a couple at a diner. Holy Christ, Katie’s inner thoughts moan, what is going on here?

“Oh no,” Bob coughs, “no no no, we’re just friends, ma’am.”

Katie’s quick to voice her agreement with Bob (albeit around a massive wheezing fit), but she gets the sense that the lady isn’t buying it. She nods politely and smiles at them before returning to her book, but there’s no missing the twinkle in her eye, the one that clearly says ‘you’re in denial’.

Christ - if Katie didn’t know any better, she’d say that this little old lady is a damn Cupid in disguise, trying to bend the universe and push her and Bob together.

Whoo boy. She doesn’t want to dedicate even a second of thought to that. Breakfast has already been complex enough without adding that in.

Thank god for the both of them, their remaining time in the restaurant is short-lived. Bob has them rung up and checked out in less than two minutes, and they slip out of the booth and through the front doors with hardly a word exchanged between them. The last thing Katie sees before they leave is the old lady grinning at them, twiddling her twisted fingers in farewell.

It’s only when they’re outside that they fully react to the exchange that’s just taken place, and while Katie heaves a heavy breath and stares up at the sky with her hands on her hips, Bob damn-near doubles over with laughter.

“Well, that turned into a real interesting breakfast, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, sure did… God, I can’t believe she thought we were a couple…” Katie’s head is spinning and her insides are burning. The universe, it seems, is really trying to pull something with her and Bob, and with each passing day, with each shared moment and second-too-long glance at one another, she’s beginning to question whether she even has a choice in the matter.

We’re friends and nothing more. We’re friends and nothing more. WE’RE FRIENDS AND NOTHING MORE.

But, as they start making their way back to the car, Katie looks down at Bob’s hand, veined and strong and relaxed beside his leg, and two thoughts pass through her head. They’re thoughts so… out of left field, so dubious and unlike her, she wonders if it’s really even herself: what if? What if she were to reach out and take his hand in hers?

And… what if they were ‘something more’?

***

A day and some change later, Katie has effectively put Bob’s Subaru through its paces and thensome. They spend close to four hours in the car, doing everything from going forward and backwards in one empty aisle of an isolated lot, to puttering around one of the on-base neighborhoods, to making full laps around North Island.

At first, it’s rough - really rough. Seeming to follow in Bob’s footsteps, Katie stalls out multiple times and struggles to make the car move in first gear. There’s frustrating, and then there’s what Katie feels, and it’s borderline agonizing. She knows how to drive, and goddamn it, she’s good at it; why is she suddenly so categorically unable to now?

She’s certain Bob’s going to boot her out from behind the wheel and take over driving, is certain that this is the worst attempt anyone’s ever made to drive manual, is certain that she’s a lousy driver and that everyone, Bob and the entire on-base population included, knows it. After all, she’s long since lost count of how many times the car has jerked forward and shut off, has lost count of the number of times she’s sworn out loud every time she’s slammed them back in their seats. Bob’s car has to be the damn finickiest piece of machinery she’s ever sat behind, but good god, it REALLY doesn’t help that she can’t get her shit together and just drive the car. She’s making an ass of herself and at this point, she’s waiting, waiting, waiting for Bob (Christ, practically begging him in her head) to just heave a sigh and tell her to stop.

But he doesn’t. Quite the opposite. He sits calmly in the passenger seat, bears each violent jolt and jerk with an understanding smile, tells Katie that she’s doing great in a way that makes her stomach flutter and her cheeks threaten to burn crimson. There it is again, that calm, quiet kindness of his. It’s like a pressure valve loosening within her.

Katie grits her teeth, pushes onward. Goddamn it, she has to nail this - if not for herself, then for the man sitting beside her.

And she does. For as awful as it is subjecting him to her inexperience, the numerous attempts and spiteful reattempts do finally pay off. She’s not perfect, but she does manage two laps around base without stalling or any significant lurching. And that? That is a victory she’ll take.

Hours later, it’s closing in on 8 p.m. and the two of them are occupying their usual corner of the Hard Deck, accompanied tonight by Fanboy, Halfpint, and a rather hefty pitcher of Coors (at Katie’s insistence because, even with her earlier success behind the wheel of Bob’s car, holy Christ, does she need a drink).

“So what’s this I hear about you learning stick with Bobber earlier?” Fanboy asks as he’s pouring himself a glass.

It takes all of Katie’s strength not to roll her eyes at the barely-there sly smirk on his face. Still trying to imply shit. Of course he is.

“It was more putting the theory into practice, but yeah,” Katie shrugs, just as a wince flashes across her face. “Pretty sure I tortured Bob’s car doing it, but I guess it all worked out.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm. Did a couple laps around base with little issue, so I’d say I did pretty good.”

“Sheesh,” Fanboy says with a whistle, “maybe I’ll let you start driving my car when we get back to Virginia-”

“Nah, I had my fill driving Bob’s today; I think I’m good for, like, the rest of my life.”

“Wise choice,” Halfpint mutters around the lip of his beer glass. “Trust me, you don’t wanna get behind the wheel of that thing.”

“Bro, why you gotta be like that?”

“Because your car’s a death trap and the last thing you wanna do is put a newly-minted manual driver in it!”

“Oh my god, it’s not that bad.”

“What do you drive, Fanboy?” Bob asks.

“An ‘09 370Z.”

“What, like a Nissan?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s a shitbox,” Halfpint cuts in, much to the annoyance of his WSO, who throws his arms up in exasperation.

“It is not a shitbox! It gets from point A to point B with no issue, and it sounds cool doing it!”

Halfpint snorts. Loudly. “My dude, you put more emphasis on that trash can exhaust mod than on, like, anything else in that car - y’know, like safety, or what actually makes the car run.”

“Oh what the fuck would you know, huh?”

“More than you, apparently.”

“First of all, if I’m gonna go anytime soon, then it’s gonna be in a blaze of glory. Second, bitch, have you heard my car? If it don’t sound like I have a hive full of angry fuckin’ bees under the hood, then it’s not a proper tuner!”

“Well if you’re going for loud, then you’ve definitely got that down, because Jesus… You’re worse than the fuckers who blast down the highway at two in the morning.”

“Well” - Fanboy swills the last of his beer and clanks the glass down hard on the tabletop - “I’m clearly being attacked here, so I’m just gonna go home now.” He stands up, and makes like he’s actually going to walk out and head out, but allows himself to be swung back to the table by Katie, who loops an arm through his with a laugh and a promise not to bully him anymore.

“We’re literally just giving you shit. Promise we’ll stop.”

“Yeah girl, you better,” Fanboy scoffs. “I know where you work.”

“Yeah, I know where you work too, dumdum,” Katie shoots back with a roll of her eyes. “Enough about shitboxes though - how was y’all’s weekend?”

“Couldn’t tell you a damn thing about Halfpint’s weekend, but mine was pretty good - hit up Coronado Beach yesterday, then spent the rest of it catching up on Demon Slayer and Jujutsu Kaisen-”

“Nerrrrrrrd-”

“Fuck off, Kozer! At least I left my room this weekend!”

As the pilot and his WSO launch into another spat of arguing and name-calling, Katie leans over towards Bob. “I swear, it’s like hanging out with a married couple with these two,” she murmurs to him around a sip of beer.

“Tell me about it… Do we break ‘em up or let ‘em keep going?”

“Eh,” Katie shrugs, “let ‘em bitch. Think they’ll notice if we drink all the beer?”

“Dunno. Let’s find out.”

Katie merely clinks her glass with Bob’s, then swills down the remains of her drink and pours a fresh one. To no one’s surprise, neither Fanboy nor Halfpint notice their classmates quietly kill the pitcher of Coors between them. When Bob orders them a second pitcher, it’s much of the same: more drinking, more people watching, more quiet laughing. For a Sunday evening, it’s a good way to pass the time.

Eventually, things wind down for the night. When the Hard Deck closes things down at 10, the two of them are among the last to leave. Fanboy and Halfpint have long since headed back to the Navy Lodge, and there are maybe four other patrons occupying the bar with them, all paying their tabs and shuffling off to their cars or loping their way back to their quarters. Despite Bob’s protesting, Katie pays for the pitchers.

“Gotta let me pay for something sometime, Bob,” she says with a wink as she’s scribbling her signature on the receipt.

“Do you realize I have a Georgia-based mother to deal with?” Bob groans (albeit jokingly). “She’d kick my ass if she found out I didn’t pay for a lady.”

“Well, guess it’s a good thing you’re all the way on the other side of the country in California,” she grins. “C’mon, let’s get outta here.”

“You wanna drive or do you want me to drive?”

“Oh dude, that’s all you. I put you and your car through enough today.”

“You sure?”

Katie nods with a tight smile. “Oh yeah.”

They push through the front doors into the warm, salt-tinged air of the night, chatting casually amongst themselves, ready to end the evening with a nice, easy drive home...

“Hey, you’re gorgeous.”

Katie whips her head around to the source of the comment, and finds herself looking at a man propped up against one side of the walkway railing. Judging by the way his words slur, he’s drunk - very drunk. Katie pays him no mind, continues on her way to the parking lot with Bob.

“Damn, I give you a compliment and you can’t even be bothered to say ‘thank you’? Th’ fuck’s amatter with ya?”

Oh Christ, I SO don’t need this right now - “Well,” Katie huffs as she turns on one heel to face the guy, “I’m a little hard-pressed to when I don’t even know you.”

“Oh. Well, that’s easy to fix.” He pushes himself away from his spot on the railing, stumbles over to Katie, body lurching to a stop when their chests are practically touching. Only they aren’t. Katie’s eye-level with his collarbone, and the realization of this twists her stomach. This guy is a fucking giant compared to her, and something tells her he knows it and is using it to his advantage.

Shit. She already doesn’t like how this is going.

“Gimme your number and we’ll get to know each other better sometime.”

She tries to play things cool, plays the noncommittal angle. “Maybe,” she sighs. “They keep us pretty busy at TOPGUN. Doubt I’ll have time to get away from all that-”

“Oh, you’re one of those snobby pilot bitches, aren’t ya?” The guy leans down, leers in her face, sour beer breath curling across her nose. “Think you’re too good for me, huh?”

“Seriously? You’re the one acting like an asshole and getting all up in my personal space,” Katie bites.

“Wouldn’t be a problem if you’d just gimme your number - so how ‘bout it?” Inch by inch, he’s moving forward, and inch by inch, Katie’s moving backward, closer and closer to the wood railing behind her, closer and closer to trapping and being trapped. “Make this easy for the both of us, huh?”

“C’mon man, she’s not interested” - Bob makes to step between Katie and the nameless guy harassing her - “leave her alone-”

It’s like Bob’s not even there. The guy shoulder checks him out of the way and continues on with Katie as if nothing happened. Undeterred, Bob makes another attempt to shield her - and is shoved off with a laugh and a ‘get lost bitch’.

Katie’s vision immediately goes red. Enough of this. It’s bad enough that this guy’s harassing her - but putting hands on her friend and calling him names? Absolutely not.

“You want my number? Here.” She snatches the guy’s phone out of his hand, punches in a series of numbers, and all but throws it back at him. “There’s my number. Now can you leave me the fuck alone?”

“All right, all right, damn, don’t need to be a bitch about it! I’ll hit you up later, yeah?”

In your dreams, asshole- “Yeah, I’m sure you will,” Katie mutters before taking Bob’s hand and leading him down the ramp to the parking lot. She doesn’t even care that she’s being rude or putting herself in a risky position anymore; she just wants to leave and never see this asshole again.

“Better be ready for me when I do!”

Katie doesn’t even dignify that with a response - just stomps off for the car with Bob in tow. She’s fairly certain that if she did, it would be an aggressively physical one - and she definitely doesn’t need the kind of trouble that would bring. Neither of them do.

The instant they’re out of earshot, Bob’s got an arm around her shoulders and he’s pulling her tight to his frame, sheltering her from the two pricks they’re fast leaving behind. Were this a normal situation, Katie would be a blushing mess right now, but after the last five minutes, she’s too rattled and on-edge to be flustered. She wordlessly accepts the pull into him, snakes her own arm around his waist - and he jumps, just the tiniest bit. He must not have been expecting reciprocation from her. No matter.

His voice is soft, low. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine… Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine…” He pauses, purses his lips. “Please tell me you didn’t actually give that guy your phone number.”

“Wha- no. I gave him a bunch of randoms. I don’t even know if what I gave him is a phone number.”

“Good…”

“Believe me, I want nothing to do with that asshole.”

“Yeah, neither do I.”

Bob says nothing else beyond that. At least, he doesn’t at first. He’s far too focused on putting distance between them and the harasser - but it’s clear that he’s got something on his mind, something to say.

“...Bob?”

No response. Just step, after step, after silent step.

“C’mon Bob, talk to me.”

Still no response. Step, after step, after silent step. Katie exhales in disappointment and goes to drop the subject, but before she can, he speaks.

“That’s why my callsign’s Bob.”

“…What?”

“You asked me three weeks ago why my callsign’s my first name. That’s why.”

There’s no missing the hard edge in Bob’s voice. He’s angry - a rare thing, given his usually easygoing, soft spoken disposition. It’s not just in his voice, though. It’s in the way he stares straight forward, even when he’s speaking directly to Katie; it’s in the stiffness of his walking; it’s in the tautness of his arm around her shoulders. This is a full-body, full-brunt feeling - and quite honestly, it unsettles Katie.

“Wait, hold on-” She steals a quick glance over her shoulder, turns back and looks up at Bob as she juts a thumb back. “What does he have to do with it?”

“It’s guys like him,” Bob replies stiffly.

Katie’s brow furrows but she says nothing. She’s not entirely sure where he could be going with this, but she’s not so sure she wants to find out - or, rather, that she should be finding out.

“All my life, I’ve been pushed around and counted out by guys like that. It happened every three, four years when dad would haul us with him to a new duty station; it happened when he retired and we settled in Georgia; it happened when I went to college.” He pauses, inhales deeply through his nose, presses on. “I joined the Navy because I thought things would be different - y’know, that I’d get to prove myself and show people I’m someone to be taken seriously. You know what it actually was? Same shit. More pushing around, more laughing, and more forgetting.”

“Bob-”

“Guys like that who look at me and don’t think I’m even worth the dirt on their boots, much less their time and consideration? They’re everywhere in the Navy, but I picked the one community that’s absolutely infested with them.” He barks out a laugh, a mirthless one. “God, what was I thinking?”

“You were thinking you were gonna end that cycle of bullshit.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t. I tried to, but… Nope. I wound up being an afterthought all through OCS and primary flight training. I didn’t even get a callsign until well over six months at Lemoore, and when I did, it was a matter of ‘who are you and why don’t you have a callsign? I guess it can be Bob, whatever.’” When Katie looks up at him again, Bob’s gaze is glazed over, distant - and while the rest of his face is smooth and neutral, there’s no missing the shame, resentment, and hurt in his eyes. “They gave me that name because I’m forgettable and don’t mean much. And… And what you saw just now proved what I am and what people think of me.”

Oh, Bob.

Katie’s throat closes and she thinks she might actually start crying. So that’s why Bob never told her. That’s why he’s kept that story so close and tight to him. And it makes perfect sense, but god, if it doesn’t rip her heart into little pieces.

“Do you really think that?” she asks him quietly.

Bob sighs, shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter what I think. It’s what everyone else thinks.”

In an instant, the hurt and sadness is replaced with anger of her own, a burning, snarling anger.

The words that come out of Katie’s mouth bite the air around them. “Fuck them,” she spits. “Fuck all of them. They don’t know a damn thing about you. And for the record, I don’t think that about you.”

“Katie, you don’t have to-”

“No, lemme finish.” She shushes Bob with a single pointed glance. “You’re genuinely one of the nicest, smartest, coolest guys I know, not to mention you’re pretty terrifying in a Super Hornet. I think you’re fucking incredible, okay? I could never forget about you - and quite frankly, I don’t wanna forget about you.”

Bob is silent, staring at her with a gleam of awe in his eyes. One would think he’s never heard reassurance like this before; judging by the way he was talking earlier, he hasn’t. Well, enough of that. He deserves better and Katie knows it.

“Seriously, fuck that guy back there, and people like him. I doubt you’ll ever run into him again, but even if you did, he doesn’t matter in the long run, and neither does his opinion of you.”

“I know. Just…” Bob exhales, long and exhausted. “I’m tired, Katie. I’m so tired of it.”

“I know you are, and I’m sorry that you’ve had to put up with that shit for so long.” She’d give anything to reach over and just wipe away the tired, defeated look on his face. She hates seeing him look like that.

“Gonna have to put up with it as long as I’m in the Navy…” The look lingers for one second more, then in an instant it’s gone, replaced with one of resolve, of steel. “You’re right, though. He doesn’t matter.”

“No, he doesn’t - and I’ll tell you what, if that guy had put his hands on you one more time, I would’ve turned around and decked him.”

“…Really?”

Katie nods. “Really. You matter more to me than he does.” Her cheeks are burning bright and she’s certain that Bob can see it, but she doesn’t care. It needs to be said.

When Bob speaks again, his voice is soft, softer than anything it’s been in the last five minutes, so soft that she has to strain to hear him - but she does, and oh.

“You matter to me too, y’know. A lot.”

It’s no different than what she just said to him a moment ago, but coming from him this time around? It hits differently. There’s something there, something peculiar, something hanging between the two of them; Katie can feel it. She’s certainly not one to read too much into situations or energy, but there’s no ignoring the something between them, not after the last few weeks. Hell, the last 24 hours. She can’t.

And, with one look into the cerulean blue eyes walking beside her, Katie is certain that Bob can’t, either.

“C’mon, let’s go home.”

And off they go, Bob’s arm around Katie’s shoulders, her arm around his waist, their steps synched with the other’s…

And god, if it isn’t the most natural feeling in the world.

It almost feels like home.

@thestagsheadsblog @everything-i-love-in-life @luckyladycreator2 @docdetective

#top gun maverick #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #lewis pullman #bob my beloved #top gun #movies #bob top gun #film #top gun: maverick #robert floyd x female oc #female oc #fanfiction

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roleplayfinder · 4 months

Note

- 21 y/o (please be over 18, preferably 20+. Have your age listed somewhere in your bio, either here or on Discord), NB.

- semi-literate, 3rd person narration+ dialogue, no ** (5-10 lines of text is alright. I can technically do literate but it's pretty tedious in that point)

- looking for a long term RP partner

- EET

- prefer roleplaying on Discord (I do love chatting about OCs and world-building elements so a server with different channels would be ideal)

-triggers- anything that has to do with non consensual sexual activities and pregnancy. I'd like to stay as FAR away as possible from them.

Interact and I'll reach out or, if you'd prefer, drop a message anytime, if you feel like it. Keep in mind the timezones.

#twenty and over #eighteen and over #oc #oc roleplay #oc rp #romance #romance roleplay #romance rp #mystery #mystery roleplay #mystery rp #historical fantasy #supernatural #fantasy

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bitchkay · 1 month

Text

Instagram logged me out of my account--

My personal not my art account-- well not it matter which one

They said it was "suspicious activity" and look I don't doubt it but I was literally on Instagram actively using it doing fuck all

I quite literally just checked the messages on a group chat and as soon as I exit the chat they're like 'hey were gonna log you out now😁' and it wont let me log back in💀💀

Like it's not funny but it's kinda funny I was barely on my phone all day today I was participating in a community collaborative event at my college and I was pretty just promoting my art, giving away free shit, talking to people, so my art account was getting a bit of traffic naturally, a few new follows, someone mentioned me in their story cus they were doing one of my colouring sheets and it was cute and shit

But yeah when I did go on my phone after it was over, I was just doing some leisurely scrolling replying to messages, fuck all and then their like 'hmm this is suspicious🤨 were logging you out😁' like--

I mean, not the end of the world, I can definitely survive

It's just the fact that it's not letting me log back in

Whenever I try it's like 'error try again later' like wow that's an interesting way to tell me to kill myself--

I'd like to mention also this happened at like 6 o'clock, it's almost 11pm, I still ain't got back in my account💀💀

I've tried to like recover my account and stuff with like the trouble shooting options but I'm not getting emails and it says my phone number isn't valid like tf you mean my phone number isn't valid bitch I'm on the phone rn

Speaking on the phone mf

tf my mother speaking to a gd brick I'm on the phone bitch

Anyway so theres that

Hows you're night going tho😁

#kay in real life

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chimielie · 5 months

Note

hi lia 😞 i am so embarrassed like actually just throw me into the woods and id happily be nutrients for mushrooms. im 🍮 anon and im so sorry i havent check up on you in foreverrrrr 😩😩 i said i would and then boom got busy and forgot to reply you 😭its crazy tho bc i still love your writing it just never crossed my mind that "hey i left a conversation hanging for months :D" until recently -anyways how are you doing sweetheart? i hope the past few months have been good to you! ive been busying myself with a lot of activities :) one thing ive realized in the past few months is that baking has brought my friends and i closer to one another. my super old oven broke and ive just been living without it lol i swear im looking for a good replacement 😭 so when i have the urge to bake, i have no choice but to do it at my friends houses :P and this has created opportunities for us to hang out more and bond over food :) have you been baking brownies recently? or is there something new youve been trying? id love to know! love, 🍮 anon :)

OH MY GOD NOOOOO don't be sorry!!!!!! everyone knows how i am with holding conversations (bad) i would be remiss to blame u!!! i'm just so happy to see u pop up again!!!

we can be mushrooms in the next life together :) and i'm glad you're still reading and enjoying my silly lil fics!! i'm doing pretty good, trying not to let the end of the semester get to me HAHAH and omg!!! that's incredible! i love that u turned ur oven breaking into a communal opportunity to eat well and enjoy each other<33 that's literally so sweet aaaaaaah what are some of the things you've baked recently?

i have not been baking anything recently HAHAH i live in a dorm-esque building rn and only have a toaster oven/air fryer (and a communal kitchen but i'm scared of it). my bf did make bread for our friendsgiving celebration the other day and i watched him do it so i'll claim credit for that hehehe (edit i went back and looked at our past messages and i talked about him both times 😭 im so sorry i’m down BAD fjsjdjsjdj)

again i am so thrilled to have you in my inbox and pls don't be apologetic for not replying hahahah i understand 1000% lol!!! sorry for all the exclamation points i'm just excited all the time

#ask n answer #🍮!

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sylvctica · 1 year

Text

KNOWING YOUR PARTNER WELL CAN POTENTIALLY MAKE WRITING TOGETHER A LOT EASIER. ( REPOST DO NOT REBLOG ! )

✿ NAME: aid! what i’m most known as, shorthand for Asuraid which is just my online handle in most places.

✿ PRONOUNS: she / her!

✿ PREFERENCE OF COMMUNICATION: mmm, mostly thru tumblr IMs / post replies? obvs discord is the best, but because i’m so low spoons for social energy i am a lot more picky with adding people there. :[

✿ NAME OF MUSE(S): sylvie and my gaymer boy oc! tho i’m not very active on him, i do still have access to his account.

✿ EXPERIENCE/HOW LONG (MONTHS / YEARS?): uhh, overall i started roleplaying when i was around 12-13 on devART, moving onto tumblr circa 2013 ( so i was around uh ... 14ish? ). so i’ve been writing on here for almost a decade at this rate LMAO ...

✿ PLATFORMS YOU’VE USED: skype, discord, tumblr, devART, iphone messages, msn for like one person ... never tried my hand at forums, or rather i did early on and dropped it because the format was odd for me w/multiple people going on at once.

✿ BEST EXPERIENCE: honestly getting to meet the people i talk to now, esp @afacere since we’ve been at the hip for years now; a lot of Hideki has been influenced by her, and we’ve been each other’s friend support pillars for years. honestly, taking the plunge to bring sylvie to tumblr ( since i had been in a heavy hiatus at that point off hideki ) also counts here.

✿ RP PET PEEVES/DEALBREAKERS: tiny fonts, tiny themes / docs / carrds ... thankfully it’s not terribly prevalent but sometimes i do come across some of them where you either can’t read the text well because it’s too small, or it’s too blended into the background / too contrasting, so it hurts to look at, or the background is misaligned to the text box because other resolutions werent taken into account and i wanna bite my own arm off because it’s like ... pls. this is what ppl see first and where your primary info is. thankfully, dash view mitigates it for themes, but it makes me take -10 hp of damage.

✿ FLUFF, ANGST OR SMUT: mmm, i guess fluff? mostly just due to sylvie’s personality, i do tend to lean more into silly light-hearted stuff. angst i do enjoy but it’s harder for me to write just cause i’m slow and for angst i really need to do it in the moment of it happening to feel it. smut ... i dont write on here ueueueue. sylvie does fucc tho.

✿ PLOTS OR MEMES: memes, mostly because over the years i feel like i’ve lost my brain for generating plots. not that im not up for it!!! im just ... very, very very slow and work off spontaneous stuff better ( and discussing stuff more in depth ooc ). i bounce better off an existing base rather than no base.

✿ LONG OR SHORT REPLIES: mostly short since im often pretty tired, so dash commentary is pretty prevalent. that’s not to say im not open to long replies!!! i enjoy writing them, they just take a lot of spoons for me the longer they are ... though sometimes stuff unintentionally gets long because sylvie rambles.

✿ BEST TIME TO WRITE: whenever my brain doesn’t feel like death ... it really is sporadic, though most of my writing time ends up being at night because that’s when it’s the quietest and i’m free ( ... almost, my parents are playing a loudass movie rn even at 1am ). otherwise i do just write when i feel the muse for it.

✿ ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S): to a degree? it’s hard not to put aspects of yourself in an oc, even if subconsciously. sylvie is more-so what i aspire to be in confidence, but we do have some overlap ... especially in our humour. their unfiltered thoughts are my unfiltered thoughts, but i just have a filter to keep them in LMAOOO. we also deviate off topics very easily and ramble about things.

#[ aint monday but i wanted to yoink it ]#OOC // ABOUT AID.

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taylor · 2 years

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loooong rambly post about my feelings, u can scroll past i've just gotta Vent

this is small but i unfollowed the guy i've been trying desperately to get over (on twitter only tho) and like, it's a small step but it's in the right direction (and also tbh if ur mutuals w someone on twitter and NEVER interact, and ur friends, it's kinda weird??? like NO interactions over the last 12 months, like what...)

idk, i'm not the kind of person that's just on call for this dude whenever he wants to get down and dirty, like i've gotta have more respect for myself than that.

and tbh, it's VERY telling when he'd interact with me in places others couldn't really see (DMs, discord, even tumblr) but on the more public places (twitter, sometimes instagram), it'd be diddly-squat except a like on an IG photo or something. it just hurts and kinda showed me he didn't want people in his real life (i.e. the girl i know he's had feelings for for a while) to see him interacting with me. (wonder why? - oh, i have a guess. probably because he liked that woman and didn't want her to see him talking to me since he's only romantically interested in her and not me...he basically told me as much 3 years ago when my DUMB FUCKING ASS told him i liked him....lololol)

i mean, i can't be mad at him that he doesn't like me back that way, i understand i can't fault someone who did in fact tell me in 2019 that he "didn't like me exactly like that" -- but i can put my foot down and not be accessible to him anymore in the FWB way we had. lmao

i'm just kinda rambling at this point and i certainly don't expect anyone to read this whole thing (or tbh any of it but i'm writing this mainly for me) but i've been carrying around the massive weight of this tormenting crush for almost FOUR fucking years, it's high time i put myself first. like there'd be times where he'd ignore me or not reply for months (which is fine, god knows i do that) but my issue came into play when he'd message me after his months-long hiatus like with the horniest shit ever. like okay you can't bother to wish me a fucking happy birthday (and i know he saw m like 50 stories bc he watched them immediately as i was posting them, so he knew it was my birthday lol), or reach out when you saw me about to be fired (again, i knew he saw the stories so this isn't me just reaching), or reach out when you saw i was in a depressive spiral (i don't need saving but it'd be nice to have someone check in on me SOMETIME...... BUT YOU CAN REACH OUT WHEN U WANT UR DICK WET???? that's the craziest part! he's got NO trouble triple or quadruple messaging me with his horny ass but can't be assed to wish me a happy birthday when he was basically viewing everything i posted that day starting pretty early. idk i just notice shit like that.

sorry sorry i just, i've realized i deserve more than this dude that i somehow convinced myself was "the one" due to how infatuated i'd become with him.

the person who loves me and that i love in return will inherently understand that i am NOT someone you can love quietly, i am not someone that you can just ignore until you're horny.

i'm choosing myself and i'm putting myself first and that started with me not replying to his last (pathetic) attempt to reach back out a few weeks ago (didn't even mention a late bday which tbh i'm not anal about birthday wishes on the ACTUAL day and usually a month after my bday is totally fine like i don't expect a day of, or anything - tho it'd be nice and he'd done it every year in the past besides this one) - and unfollowing him on twitter and removing him as my follower on there since he never liked or replied to anything i ever did (Which to me, and this is my personal opinion, was fucking WEIRD since he was active on there ALL the time).

it's still gonna take me a while to fully, truly get over him, but it's not fair to him to expect him to be someone he's not and clearly can't be - and it's not fair to me to keep pretending he's eventually going to change his ways. i hope he finds whatever the fuck it is he's looking for, but it's not with me.

it kinda feels good to have withdrawn from him. i doubt he'd put two and two together (i.e that his behavior and lack thereof was the reason i ended things) but maybe eventually later in life, he'll realize what a prize, what a catch, what a lover i could have been.

and by then? by then i'll be with someone who knows how to love me loudly and doesn't make me agonize over their actions.

(sidenote: he'd call me baby all the time, call me sexy, say shit like "Thank god for women, like thank god for you", and even tho I knew he was probably just saying shit, both of us knew i had at one point in time liked him - i never told him i still did and maybe he assumed as much...but like he'd be doing all this shit that made me doubt his original claim that he didn't have feelings for me. but now that it's been years and years i've realized he only wants me when it's convenient for him, and that doesn't work for me. it doesn't. i'm fucking done agonizing over whether or not he'd like my stuff or reply to me or whatever the fuck, like i'm just truly done at this point. if he wanted to, he would have, and it's as fucking simple as that)

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yayeetsonny · 3 years

Text

Always Tell The Truth Part 2 ~ USWNT x Reader

Okay so if you haven’t read the first part of this, which I will put here. Always tell the truth part 1 I suggest you do that, otherwise this one will make no sense. Also sorry... again for being gone so long. I hope you guys didn’t miss me too much. :)

-N

Previously...

“Those bruises, Y/N, where’d you get them?”

“I. Don’t. Know.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Fine then, don’t believe me. First Alex, then Christen and now you. This is just great, my teammates think I’m a liar. Well I’m not and I’m telling you the truth.”

I brushed by her and stormed out of the room, now determined to avoid my teammates so they’d stop asking questions and questioning my honesty.

“I’m not a liar. I don’t know where I got the bruises, I don’t know why they won’t believe me.”

Present

After I stormed out of the room I share with Ali I ran... yes literally ran out of the hotel and out into the street. Well okay it was more like the sidewalk but whatever, I’m going for dramatic story telling here. I was angry, hurt and confused as to why my teammates couldn’t just believe me. I’ve never lied to them before, not ever. If something was going on I would have told them. And I genuinely have no clue where these bruises came from, I don’t remember hurting myself badly in practices or games and I don’t do any other crazy activities that would warrant the sudden appearance of severe looking injuries. I knew I just needed to clear my head so I started walking in a random direction hoping to get my thoughts together.

After a while I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket and knew it was probably one of my teammates looking for me so I ignored it. My phone stopped ringing only for a short time before it stared up again. This went on for several long minutes before it finally stopped. After each attempt from whoever was trying reach me there was a separate single vibrate indicating they left a message. I felt a little guilty for disappearing and probably worrying everyone but they shouldn’t have assumed or accused me of lying. Thinking they finally got the message that I didn’t want to speak to them I continued walking god knows where trying to think of what to say when I finally decided to go back. I was really deep in thought, trying to remember if and when I got the bruises. Obviously they don’t just appear like magic. They have to be caused by something, but... what? All the sudden I was hit with a vague memory

“Huh?... Wha- where am I?”

“You fell asleep on the couch dear. Don’t you remember? It was really adorable actually. My mom said super sweetly.

That’s weird, she’s never overly sweet with me, like ever.

“No, I don’t remember doing that.”

I looked around and the tv was on, which is also rare. It was playing a random comedy movie. Comedy? My parents don’t even like comedy movies.

“Oh well you did. Right after dinner, you dragged your feet over to the couch and was out like a light before we knew it.” She said casually.

My dad waltzed in like everything was totally normal. What the fuck is going on. Why don’t I even remember eating dinner? How long have I been here? Why does my body hurt so much?

I came back to the present feeling slightly uneasy. I remembered now a little bit of what happened when I got to my parents house and a little bit of what happened after I woke up from my nap. They managed to convince me everything was fine after that and I left assuming they were telling me the truth because I was too tired and too annoyed to argue. But the more I thought about it the more I wondered just how much of what they said is true. Why were there huge gaps in my time with them? And why do I get the feeling that the weird gut feeling I have isn’t a coincidence? I got lost in thought again but it was peaceful this time and quiet which I was relishing in.

Unfortunately the peace and quiet only lasted for a few minutes when I started to get what I assumed were dozens of texts. I finally got fed up and decided to silence my phone completely. When I unlocked it I saw a glimpse of some of the worried texts from the team. They all pretty much said the same thing;

“Y/N please come back. I’m sorry for saying I didn’t believe you. I’m just concerned about you. I want to talk and I’ll listen to whatever you have to say. Just please come back.”- Ali

“Hey kid, heard what happened. Wanna talk?”- T

“Y/n where are you? I heard what happened and that you left?? please come back, we’re worried.”- Christen

“Bruh what the hell? let’s talk?”- Ash

“where r u?”- Mal

“It’s not safe for you to be out by yourself. Ali told us about the other bruises. Whatever this is we’ll help you. We’re gonna start searching for you if you don’t get your ass back here soon. We love you.”- Alex

And it went on like that as every single member of the team texted me some variation of that and the voicemails they all left were much the same. I started to feel more guilty but let my anger keep me from replying to them. They can stew a little longer.

Meanwhile back at the Hotel...

CHRISTEN PRO//

“Okay, so tell us exactly what happened.”

“I saw the bruises when she was changing, which I happened to walk in on. I don’t think she was expecting me. I asked her what happened and she said that nothing had happened and I asked her about the bruises I saw on her arm, shoulder and spine and she continued to tell me she has no idea where they came from. I told her I didn’t believe her and then she got upset and she just... left.”

“Just like that? She didn’t say where she was going?”

“No, she was so angry she just stormed out and when I tried to follow after her she was already gone.”

“And she’s still not answering her phone. Damnit kid come on, where are you?”

“She’s not safe out there on her own, we have to go look for her.”

“And how are we supposed to find her when she doesn’t have her location on and is doing everything she can’t to ignore us?”

“I have no idea but we have to try.”

“We will, but we should give her a little more time. It’s possible she’s just around the corner cooling off. She’ll come back when she’s ready.”

“You’re right.”

“Guys I hate to steer us back into more serious topics but shouldn’t we be talking about the bruises she has that started all of this?”

“What do you guys think they’re from?” Megan asked.

“I want to believe her when she says she doesn’t know but I mean how can you just not know about bruises as severe as those?” Ash said.

“I mean... I’ve had some pretty bad ones I don’t remember getting from anywhere.” Mal said off-handily.

I saw some of the rest of the team nod silently, indicating that they too had, had the same thing happen to them. And I had to admit that I had my fair share of bumps and bruises that I couldn’t explain because they just seemed to appear but I was still concerned for our youngest teammate as it was getting pretty late and it was already dark outside.

“Oh god, you don’t think it’s her parents do you?” Tobin asked no one in particular.

We all paused for a moment to process what she was implying and I know we were silently hoping, praying that they wouldn’t do that to her. That they wouldn’t beat their own child.

“No, there’s no way. She’s told us that they love and support her and that even though they aren’t around much they still care about her.”

“Right, you’re right.”

“It has to be them though, I mean there’s no other explanation. She didn’t have them before or after practice right?” Alex asked.

“No, she didn’t.” Lindsey said solemnly.

“Do you really think parents can just flip a switch? Just like that? Be caring and supportive one minute and violent then next?”

“It’s possible.”

“No, just don’t even go there. I refuse to believe they would do that.”

“We would have seen the bruises if she had them before, since we all change in the same locker room together for practices and games remember?” I said

“Fuck. When I get my hands on them I swear to god...”

She didn’t get to finish her sentence because Y/n walked into the dining hall where we were all gathered.

“Get your hands on who?” She asked quietly

“Kid...”

“Y/n holy shit, thank god.”

“And she lives!... not the time? Got it.”

“Y/N... we need to talk.”

“Why? There’s nothing to talk about. I don’t know what Ali told you, but I don’t know where these fucking bruises came from okay? I don’t know. I’m sorry, I know that probably isn’t what you wanted to hear but it’s the truth. If you don’t believe me that’s fine but i’m not talking about it anymore.”

“Sweetie please just hear us out okay? We’re worried about you and getting defensive about them isn’t helping your case.” I said, trying to reach out for her but she backed away from me.

“Defensive? I’m just upset because you all still don’t seem to get it.”

“We want to get it, please just talk to us.”

“No.”

“Y/N, please just...”

“No! Okay, just no. I said we weren’t talking about it again and that’s final. What happened to “I’ll listen to whatever you have to say.” Huh, Ali? Good to know that was complete bullshit.”

“I’m sorry baby, please believe me, we just...”

“Oh believe you? For what? You clearly still don’t believe me so why should I give you that courtesy? You know what, this is all just fucking stupid anyways. I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”

And with that she disappeared up to the room she’s sharing with Ali. Leaving us all more confused and concerned than ever.

“Well... that went well.”

“Shut up Emily, so not the time.”

//End

Okay so yes that is yet another cliffhanger of sorts, I’m sorry but I thought that was a good place to end it. Just know that Y/N genuinely doesn’t remember a lot of what’s going on, just like she says. Her parents are definitely sus asf.

I’m actually writing part 3 rn so that should be up within the next day or so. I know I keep disappearing but my life is totally a mess rn lol. I’m back now tho and am excited to finally get to all the requests I have. Im so sorry for those waiting I haven’t forgotten. Promise.

-N

Not edited.

#uswnt imagines #uswnt #christen press #alex morgan #imagines #uswnt x reader #megan rapinoe #ashlyn harris #ali krieger #tobin heath #lindsey horan #emily sonnett #mal pugh #The rest of the team will appear #baby reader #USWNT

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butwhyduh · 3 years

Text

The Art Gallery

Kyle Rayner x batsis!reader fluff

Summary: the reader has a charity benefit at an art gallery and hopes that Kyle will actually show up because he’s not the most punctual boyfriend.

“Be there. Show up,” you begged him and Kyle nodded quickly.

“I’ll be there. I promise,” he said. It was the 3rd time that week that he had flaked on you. Why was he the sweetest guy when he was with you but a complete flake otherwise?

Kyle kissed your forehead and pulled you into a hug. “Don’t worry. I won’t miss it for the world,” he promised. “I know how important this show is to you.”

“Thank you,” you said giving him a kiss.

3 hours later

Kyle was having a much harder time keeping his promise. It was an hour until the showing and he was currently fighting some kind of 12 leg tentacle monster in the Bronx. He used a giant hammer like they use at a carnival the smack the monster who was currently trying to eat him.

His phone went off. He knew it was you. But his hands were a little busy holding the monster from biting him with its nasty beak. God, what kind of cryptid is this??

“Hey Kyle, I hope you are on your way and that’s why you aren’t answering. I’m getting ready to leave and I’m going to be leaving in the next 30 minutes. I’m going to be mad if you don’t show at all and I’m hoping you ride with me. This benefit,” you said on his voicemail. “It’s a big deal for me. I didn’t have the easiest childhood growing up and this is my way to give back. Change the actual foster home that I grew up in for the better. If you don’t show.... Kyle, I don’t know how things will work. I really need to know you’re there for me. Anyways, call me back when you get the chance. I’ve got to go.”

Kyle got the alert that he got a voicemail just as he threw a green boulder at the monster. It growled at him but was slower to get up. The voicemail was forgotten as he swung a wrecking ball at it. The beast went down with a thud. Kyle dropped the wrecking ball on it and it finally stopped moving. Right before it threw up purple slime all over him.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” he groaned. Kyle checked his watch. 15 minutes to be on time. And he had to shower and throw on a suit before going across town. Good thing he was Green Lantern. Kyle started flying over when his phone started ringing.

“Hey, I’m on the way. Work had me tangled up but I’m on the way,” he said quickly.

“Your work as a freelance artist?” You asked, suspiciously. “If you don’t want to come Kyle, you should just say that,” you said angrily. Yeah, he deserved that.

“No I do,” he said in earnest. “Trust me. I’ll be there. I know how important it is to you. I’ve got to go so I can get there.”

You sighed heavily. “Fine. But you better show,” you warned.

Kyle was in the process of unlocking his door when he heard a scream from down the block. No no no, that isn’t what he needs today. But clearly someone’s in trouble. He hurried over to see 4 guys surrounding a woman who was clutching her purse in fear.

“Seriously? You can’t do anything better with your time?” He said before flying down between her and them. It didn’t take much time to disable them and tie them up but it was 5 minutes he couldn’t get back. Kyle didn’t even wait to see the cops arrive before he ducked inside to shower and change.

It took 7 minutes to scrub all the goo off and 4 minutes to put on a suit, which Kyle thought was impressive. Now if he could just fly across town he would only be 5 minutes late.

Kyle got halfway there before he saw an emergency. A freakin train was driving dangerously fast into the city. Kyle looked at his suit and groaned. It was probably gonna get ruined, even under the green lantern suit. He flew close to the train to see the conductor panicking and pressing all kind of buttons. Okay, that wasn’t going to fix it.

Kyle made a new brake on the train and pulled the lever. For a minute the train started slowing before the brake snapped and the train sped up. “Shit, okay okay. Don’t panic.” Kyle strapped a huge parachute and 4 brakes on the train and it slowed down a lot but not enough. Not enough for the sharp corner it was going to need to make. Kyle created a Superman to push on the front of the train. He groaned under the strain of multiple projections. The train slowed down more but he couldn’t tell if it was enough for the curve. Kyle joined the Superman and pushed the train with his ring, willing it to slow. It whipped towards its side as it sped around the corner and he could hear the passengers screaming. Kyle created a huge hamburger helper hand to hold the train upright and it made it through the curve in one piece.

The train engineer stood up in triumph and the train started slowing on its own. It finally came to a stop on a bridge over the highway. Passengers cheered to be safe. Kyle winced when he realized he would need to get these passengers to safety off of the tracks. He made some green gondolas that started carrying the passengers to the street where cops were already arriving. It took another 20 minutes to get them all to safety.

Kyle looked at his phone as he flew of. “Shit,” he breathed. He was 20 minutes late and you had left 3 more messages. He hurried to the side entrance and almost went in without taking his green lantern suit off. He grabbed some flowers from the flower bed along the walkway, sorry, to give to you.

“Hey,” Kyle said straightening his tie as he walked over to you. He hid the collar that was black with whatever was on the train. You grinned and suddenly his frantic activity was worth it. You gave him a big hug and took the flowers from him.

“You made it,” you said, kissing his cheek. You threaded your fingers in his and gave him a tour of the gallery. “And this is the acting coordinator of the exhibit,” you said, introducing Kyle to an older woman. She shook his hand with a polite smile.

“Yes your girlfriend, she’s our biggest contributor and has made a huge difference, both for local artists and her charity. It’s pretty amazing. I couldn’t have done it without her. Do you smell motor oil,” she asked with a frown. “Or some kind of chemical smell?”

“Probably me,” he laughed nervously. “Had a flat tire. That’s why I’m late.”

“Oh that would make sense,” she nodded before excusing herself to speak to other people.

“There’s something I want to show you,” you said with a shy grin. Kyle looked at you curiously. You took his hand and a bit of a breath and guided him over to a particular piece on the wall.

It was a charcoal sketch of a woman in a bed, clearly nude but under covers, asleep. To be more precise, it was you. You watched Kyle nervously. He stared at the art and the frame and the small metal plate beneath it that simply said his name and phone number along with the title ‘freelance artist.’ He stared a little too long and you started to get nervous that he didn’t like it. You should have asked. You grasped your elbow in your hand and Kyle suddenly turned to you with a serious look.

“You didn’t have to-“

“I wanted to,” you answered his unasked question. Kyle grinned and picked you up in a hug. He twirled you in a circle and you giggled while holding his shoulder. “Put me down,” you yelped with laughter.

“Sorry, yeah. Not the place,” he said with a nervous laugh at the people staring. He rubbed the back of his neck and big his lip. “That’s amazing tho. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I did chose local artists and I happen to know a guy...” you said playfully.

“Gosh I hope it’s me,” Kyle replied with a grin.

“Of course it is,” you said holding his hand. “So why do you actually smell like industrial oil? And why were you late?”

“Well, it’s a long story. I’ll tell you later,” he said giving you a knowing look.

“I’m tingling with anticipation,” you answered dryly. “You’re okay that I picked that particular sketch...”

“Mixed feelings on my girlfriend naked in an art gallery.... but it is a really good likeness to you...... I’m kidding. It’s great,” he said kissing your forehead.

“Okay I’ve got to get back to work but there is a ton of food to try,” you said.

“Fancy food?” He said suspiciously.

“Well yeah. But we’ll go get burgers afterwards,” you said walking off. Kyle had a little grin on his face as he watched you work.

Of course he had no idea that a week later his phone would be ringing off the hook looking for work.

#Kyle Rayner x reader #green lantern x reader #Kyle Rayner #dc fanfics #dc fanfiction #batsis #kyle rayner x batsis!reader #batsis!reader #Kyle rayner fluff

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matryosika · 3 years

Text

shoot me, chapter III

pairing — changbin x reader

rating — 18+

genre of the overall series — smut, angst, fluff if you squint

prologue chapter I chapter II chapter III

word count for this chapter — 3.7 k

warnings — suggestive, slight jisung x reader, mentions of alcohol, possessive and jealous changbin, choking and sexual tension.

note — i have been pretty ia lately because i'm full of school work to do. my semester is coming to an end, so i must turn in final projects and take my final tests too. i'm normally much active than i have been on this account, i promise to get back to you as soon as school ends for me. this chapter has just sexual tension but not smut smut and it's shorter than the rest but i needed to divide the chapter because it became way too long. smut promised for next one that i will be uploading this weekend (hopefully!)

taglist: @cozyblues @ahgasearmyfan @binnie-m00n

[12:17 a.m. Changbin]

i don't think we should to that again

it was a mistake

you looked at your phone at a extreme state of confusion. he had left your place minutes ago and, after an amazing session of oral sex, a lovely dinner and a extremely bearable (maybe even good) late-night talk, the walk to his car was all it took for him to develop a guilt complex?

[12:17 a.m. Changbin]

i just needed to vent but honestly, getting with you can really damage my future and that's not something i'm willing to jeopardize for sex.

you read his messages over and over again. it was the "i just needed to vent" that got backlash from you... did he really just came to your place only to ease his sexual frustrations?

you were still siting in the living room, hugging your knees to your chest. you hadn't lose self control once but twice, and not to mention it was with a man whose only purpose all along was to use you to feel better about himself.

"you really touched bottom this time" you whispered to yourself, feeling the need to take a second shower in order to rinse away all the traces from his touches and kisses on your skin.

maybe it wasn't really the guilt that bothered you. maybe it was the fact that, tonight, was probably the best night you've ever had for a while. he took well care of you, after finishing he cleaned you up and carried you to your room so you could take a shower and change your clothes.

he patiently waited for you while sitting at the edge of your bed and, when you were done showering, some delicious food he ordered was already expecting both of you at the dinning room of the house. during dinner, you told him a little bit about your life in japan and shared some childhood memories with him.

things were good, maybe too good for your own liking, but it only took a couple of minutes for changbin to remind you who he truly was.

not only that, but you also wouldn't admit the fact that you had a great time with him.

you spent the rest of the week calmly, having to hang out with changbin more times than you actually wanted to. he would often act like a gentleman in front of his parents and arthur, trying to engage in coversations with you often, asking you about your major and your adolescence in japan. you thought that he was just doing that in an attempt to hide the awkwardness of the air every time you had to spend time with him at arthur's company, but that didn't completely eased the fact that you felt your blood boil every time you had to be near him.

"you are coming, right?" ryujin cried from the other side of the phone "you told me you wanted to come!"

fuck, chan's party was this weekend.

"uhhhh" you mumbled "ryujin i don't feel good"

"y/n!" she screamed "is it because of changbin? baby? i have known you since pre-school, are you really feeling bad over a man you met barely 2 weeks ago?"

ryujin was right. you hated men, you truly did. and you were too proud about the fact that you had never cried over one, let alone have your heart broken by any of them. and it wasn't changbin you were sad about but the fact that he used you, you let him and then tried to act like nothing ever happened between both of you, which was even more humilliating. it always seemed like you had everything controlled but this time he was the one who got the last word and that was something you just couldn't accept.

"besides" ryujin added without leaving time for you to talk "i don't even think he is coming, chan said that he invited more people outside his friend group because some of them were not going to make it tonight, maybe he is one of them"

"maybe" you said "but i'm not willing to take a risk on that, ryujin"

you couldn't see her, but you could clearly picture how she was pouting at that exact moment. "y/n, you will eventually go back to japan and we will not be able to hang out anymore. is that what you want? do you want to reject your best friend on a saturday night? plus! the last time i took you to itaewon you had a great time!"

"speak for yourself ryujin" you mutered

"PLEASE" she screamed, making you squirm in your place "i promise that i will be by your side the whole time, i won't get distracted by the gorgeous, precious, well-built, amazing...."

"alright" you interrupted her "i know you are lying but i want to believe you for once"

she did a little scream of victory on the other side of the line and proceeded to set an hour to pick you up, almost against your will.

"what's the special occasion?" you asked ryujin as she went through all your clothes that were now laying around your bedroom floor, trying to find the perfect outfit for chan's party because you were dressed too casual, apparently.

"today it's the birthday of one of his closest friends" she said, almost in a hurry "and we are now running late because of your choice of clothes"

"i didn't knew there was a dresscode" you said, sitting at the edge of your bed.

"oh no, there isn't" she responded, now lurking around your suitcase and bags "but you need to let know changbin what he is missing out"

you rolled your eyes and grunted, of course. ryujin was that type of friend who would hype you up while you wear a killer outfit just to piss off a man.

"FINALLY" she screamed, finding the black dress that you stole from changbin at coex "i knew you had something around"

with hesitant eyes you looked at her handing you the dress, not sure if this easy outfit, like changbin said, would fit the occasion. "go on, it's almost 9 p.m."

by the bar incident you learned that chan, changbin and the whole friend group were a bunch of privileged men, but you didn't quite understand how privileged they were until you found yourself outside chan's house. the architecture looked excentric but expensive, at the same time. it was located in a pretty nice neighbourhood and was specially afar from the rest of the houses as if the most important value around was privacy.

you looked at ryujin and she seemed nervous. understandable. she came from a decent household but this right here just looked like the mansion of a western celebrity.

"are you alright?" you asked her, closing the door of her car before walking towards the stairs that lead you to the front door.

"this is the first time i'll get to meet chan's friends" she responded, making a grimace as she retracted "well, the second time, but i can barely remember the night at the bar"

"right"

right before she could continue talking, the front door opened and chan greeted you both. "ladies"

you bowed down to chan and ryujin immediately jumped into his arms, receiving a kiss in her cheek by the man himself "could you not?" you joked, watching chan's face turning bright red by the unexpected and euphoric physical contact.

"i missed him!" ryujin defended herself, locking her arms behind his neck.

"come in, y/n" he said, opening the door wider so you and ryujin could come in.

"who's the birthday boy?" you asked, your eyes scanning the insides of the house looking for any sign of changbin.

"it's jeongin's birthday" he said, proudly smiling like the father of an 8-year-old son "he's right there, at the couch. maybe you recall him from the bar"

you saw his face and immediatly remembered him. "yeah, the guy who just couldn't stop laughing"

"that's the one" chan said, standing right besides ryujin "let's go, let me introduce you to them"

the next hour was spent peacefully and you were almost thankful that ryujin begged you to come. jeongin, the birthday boy, was already drunk by 10:00 p.m. and kept making bad jokes that cracked everyone up. ryujin left with chan to god-knows-where and you were stucked with jisung and hyunjin at the living room, drinking ocasionally and having a good time.

"i remember you from the bar" jisung mumbled, getting closer to your ear as the music was already too loud. "i wanted to chat with you, but you disappeared quickly"

his breath smelled like cherries and alcohol as he was too close to you, but you couldn't complain. it was almost intoxicating in the best way possible.

"yeah i was not having a good time"

he smiled proudly "i'm sure i could have made it better"

a sarcastic chuckled escaped your lips as he placed a hand on his chest "you don't believe me?"

"i don't believe any man for that matter" you replied almost in a flirty way, not that you wanted to tho but the alcohol was already making you feel a tad extroverted.

"but i'm not any man" jisung whispered on your ear, making you feel goosebumps over the entirety of your body. before you could even say something back, he grabbed you by the hand and took you outside of the living room and into the patio, where a lot of people were gathered drinking and dancing.

"oh, i'm not good at dancing" you tried to escape, jisung holding you by one of your hands.

"you don't have to be good at dancing to enjoy it" he pouted, still convincing you to join him at the improvised dance floor that people made right at the center of the courtyard "c'mon y/n"

you were not too fond of dancing, but the music that was playing and jisung's insistence made you accept the offer. with small jumps of excitement he drove you to the crowd of people and started to move around you like a fool, inspiring you confidence to losen up a bit.

"i'm not used to this" you admit, moving your body to the sound of "criminal" by taemin, one of your favorite songs ever.

"there's always a first time for everything" he mumbled, his face dangerously close to yours "here"

his hands traveled to your waist and he held you closer to his body, feeling his soft and warm sking against the naked parts of your. "just let your body move with the music, it's not hard"

jisung's presence was extremely intoxicated and captivating, but not enough to keep you from notice changbin entering to courtyard.

and he wasn't alone.

your whole body tensed and you could feel how jisung stepped back a little bit. "did i do something wrong?"

you parted your gaze from changbin as soon as he saw your body pressed against him, and you gave a faint smile to jisung.

"no, i just felt shy for a moment"

he gave you a wide smile and continue to hold you even closer, your hips moving involuntary against his pelvic area and his eyes firmly fixed into you. "god, you are so precious"

"am i?" you asked, tilting your head to the side while dancing.

you could feel changbin's gazed nailed into your body and that was making you do stupid things. you wanted to make him feel jealous, for some reason, but using a man you just met wasn't something that would fit in your principles.

"mhm" he hummed, the movements of both of you getting slower as the song progressed. jisung's lips brushed softly against yours pratically begging for a kiss, but you knew that it was way too early for that.

you turned around on your place, your back now pressed to his chest, as you continued to dance against his body. his hands were glued to your waist and ocasionally would visit your hips, moving at the same rythm as you did. a different song was playing right now, but you didn't even noticed as your mind was flooded with thoughts. who was changbin with? was she his girlfriend? was he still there watching you? were you dancing with jisung just to piss him off? and most importantly, why did you feel the need to make him jealous in the first place?

before the trail of thoughts continued on your head, jisung's hand traveled from the tip of your fingers to your left shoulder, his fine digits dancing around your naked clavicles. "did i tell you that this dress looks amazing on you?"

his voice, the trace of his fingers and his scent made you act completely dumb around him, it was almost painful to watch. with a swift movement, you were now facing him again and kept on moving slowly. "i don't think so"

"well" he said, leaning one more time to leave a faint kiss on your lips "you look amazing on that dress"

and without expecting an answer from you, he kissed you.

his lips tasted exactly the same as his scent. the mixture of cherries, strawberries and alcohol intoxicated your five senses, making you unable to think about what you were doing. the kiss was everything except rushed, as if he was taking his time to taste every single inch of your lips and tongue. his hands were resting on your waist and lower back and the song that was now playing just fit the whole mood the both of you created, right until...

"do you mind?" a man's voice asked while you felt a grip on your forearm.

"give me a break man" jisung said, interrupting the kiss. it was no other than changbin, standing right in the middle of you and jisung.

"she is drunk" changbin said, almost in a threatening tone.

"i am not" you responded, trying to get out of changbin's grip.

"we are in the middle of something here" jisung insisted, trying to get between you and the grip changbin had on your arm.

"i'm not in the mood for a chat, han" his voice turned ten times deeper and his body language reminded you of that night at itaewon "i'm taking her home because he drank too much"

"let go off of me"

but he did not let go of you and continued dragging you across the whole courtyard and into the living room. "aren't you supposed to be with your girlfriend?"

you started to curse him openly, but he wouldn't slow down his pace. he took you out of the house and into his car without even saying a word.

"you are acting as if you were my owner" you grunted, looking for your phone inside of your purse "you just love to order me around, don't you?"

"that didn't seem to upset you at the bar and your house" he scoffed, his voice going completely cold as ice.

"you bringing that topic now is just miserable" you laughed as he started the car "i was about to enjoy a good night of fucking, something i never got to do with you because you are a coward"

changbin's jaw tensed up and you could feel how the car started to go faster.

the adrenaline of changbin's jealousy, the alcohol, jisung's taste and the speed of the car were making you feel particularly bold tonight, something you knew you would regret the morning after.

"why do you tense up?" you asked, teasing him "i know you wanted to fuck me so bad but still decided to not jeopardize your future for a night of sex"

you were not completely sure, but it was kind of obvious that changbin wasn't driving to your house. you tried to catch a glimpse of the street names as if that was going to be helpful to a foreigner, but it was too dark outside.

"you are not going to talk now?" you asked him, taking off your high-heels as your whole body rested on the car seat. "you were so bold a few minutes ago, trying to act like a fucking man intimidating jisung at chan's house. two nights of oral sex and i have that much of a grip on you, changbin?"

he wouldn't respond, and that only made your blood boil even more.

"you are so fucking pathetic" you muttered, looking directly at him as his gaze was completely fixed on the road.

the car took a sudden turn and parked right in front of a complex of apartments. without hesitation, he got out and opened the door for you, carrying you into his shoulder inside the elevator of the lobby.

the scene was pretty much awkward as you faced yourself into the elevator mirror. your hair was completely messed up and your lipstick was a bit smudged but other than that, you looked completely sober. not only that, but he knew that you weren't drunk. he just made that excuse.

the doors of the elevators opened on the 12th floor and you were glad that no one was waiting for it outside, otherwise they would've seen your ass on changbin's shoulder.

"you know i'm not drunk, right?" you said, still resting on his shoulders while he took his keys from the pocket of his black pants

"just shut the fuck up for a moment" he said, carrying you and leaving you standing inside of his apartment as he turned all the lights inside on.

"i knew your behavior as a gentleman was a fucking act and you only did that in front of your parents and arthur"

"you are so annoying" changbin whispered as he walked towards the black leather couch in the middle of the living room of his apartment. you followed him and walked right behind him.

"i don't have anything to do here, changbin" you mumbled, his back turned against you. you wanted to tease him, you needed to. for an unknown reason, you felt the sudden urge to make him mad, to make him explode. you needed things to escalate quickly so he would give you another reason for you to hate him even more "i can't believe i should be fucking with jisung right now but instead i'm-"

before you could finish that sentence, you felt changbin's grip on both sides of your neck "go on, keep on talking"

the lack of oxygen, the sudden movement of changbin against your body and his gaze flooded with anger made your legs tremeble "keep on fucking talking"

you could barely swallow by how hard his right hand was grasping onto your neck "look at you" you whispered with broken words, smirking as your eyes unconciously closed because of the pleasure "are you jealous, changbin?"

"why don't you answer the question, y/n?" he asked, his hold on your neck becoming softer as his lips approached your right ear "how did you felt when you saw me with that girl earlier today?"

an ironic laugh left your lips, trying to shield yourself from the obvious thing. "i don't know what game you are playing, changbin, but i didn't felt shit"

"really?" he hummed, his raspy voice near your ear made you squeeze your thighs together unconciously, and even though his hand was merely just resting on your neck, the arousal you felt from his grip was still there. "i know you saw me with her, and i could tell how that made you dance for jisung more... enthusiastically"

"you are wrong" you replied, pushing him slightly away "and pathetic, getting jealous when you were the one who cutted things off since the beginning"

"he is an asshole" changbin said with a mocking and sarcastic tone, his fingers tracing the naked skin of your arms as he licked his lips "and i must protect you, like arthur said. isn't that right?"

"he is a good kisser" you answered "i bet he fucks better than you too, not that i would know though because i never got to fuck with you"

changbin's eyes drifted from your skin to your eyes in a matter of miliseconds and for the first time in the evening you regretted saying something. "you are just begging for me to fuck you, aren't you?"

"don't get confused" you spitted "i don't want to have anything to do with you"

his hand traveled slowly to the end of your dress, lifting it up and reaching for your, now soaking, panties. his digits traced your slit and you swallowed hard in anticipation for whatever humiliating thing he was about to say. "are you sure?"

he removed his fingers from your core and were now glistening thanks to the light coming from the window of his apartment. "look at me and tell me that you don't want me to fuck you"

"look at me and tell me that you didn't felt jealous when you saw me with jisung" yo fired back, a faint smirk appearing on his face.

"i did" he admitted "i can't even begin to explain how mad i felt at the sight of your precious body pressing against his. all i wanted to do at that exact moment was to fuck you right in front of everybody, including him"

his hands toured to your back, unzipping the dress you were wearing as he looked directly into your eyes trying to decode if you actually wanted this or not.

"i know what i said last week" changbin mumbled, his fingers helping you to drag the straps on your dress all the way to your wrists "but your existence is fucking me up"

your heart started to beat even faster, your breath accelerated "and it wasn't until i saw you with someone else where i realized that i needed to make you completely mine, even just once"

you soon found yourself in your underwear right in front of him, his eyes looking at you up and down several times making you feel intimidated. you had two options: loose your self-control for the third time and do something that you truly wanted to, or leave his apartment feeling proud.

but you already made that choice when you didn't fought back enough to stop him from driving you to his place.

"please ruin me" you whispered, your soul immersed in arousal, guilt and regret.

#stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #skz smut #skz x reader #skz angst #stray kids angst #changbin smut #changbin angst #changbin x reader #stray kids oneshots #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #skz oneshots

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hearteyes-for-killmonger · 3 years

Text

This is gonna be a flashback chapter. How our babies met because I remember a few people had forgotten. Had to have one of these eventually, right?

Part 21: Introduction

Should I download Tinder?

Glee plays from the firestick, the scene where they're all walking and singing How Will I Know.

I should.

Laying cozied into the couch in a faded t'shirt with the tiniest pink shorts, your head rests on the butt cushion and your feet dangle over the arm as you hold your phone up in the air over your face.

"How will I know?.. How will I knoow..," you mumble along with the crew. You've heard the Glee version of this Whitney classic at least 8 times.

No, but what if I do and someone recognizes me? Someone I work with? What if my family is on Tinder? I'd die.

You put the phone down on your belly and pick up your apple juice from the coffee table, doing a sit up to sip.

Mm. You wipe your mouth nearly spilling. But if they're on there too then they shouldn't comment on what I'm doing, right? We'd ignore each other's presence and continue like ships passing in the night. So technically I should be able to download this app with no blowback.

Picking the phone up, you hit download and open the app. It immediately asks for your information and won't let you skip. Not even your location. You fall back down to your back raising the phone up again.

But what if someone's a serial killer?Would they look for me? No, that won't happen and I could tell if they were psychotic..

Tapping the download button, you go through the steps to set up an account including giving them access to your location and posting a headshot from a selfie. Scrolling through your gallery for more decent pics to post, you decide one's enough and upload a full body photo so that whoever meets you will know who they're meeting, no surprises.

Inputting your information, you decide to write into your blurb that you're looking for some awesome friends, specifically a movie buddy. In reality, the activity doesn't matter you just crave human attention and closeness. Any decent, polite, nice, smart, funny, left wing, hopefully attractive, young, black human.. possibly male.. will do. Not that you're picky. In the meantime, you swipe right on everyone black nearby, men and women. Somebody's gotta respond. Someone sane who wants to meet. Shockingly there are a lot of pretty people. Unfortunately the app only gives you one super like.. a blue star which you decide to save.

Giddily you head over to your match tab and see four matches. Drew P seems nice. Ashley J looks stylish. G Papa looks like he lives in a Freaknik video. Pussy Hunter is just nasty. Your nose twitches as you shamefully start conversations with all four. When neither responds right away you return to swiping and a notification says you've been super liked, but you can't access who super liked without paying money. You're not doing that so you just go back to the bios and swipe right until you get a reply.

Wyd, Pussy Hunter writes.

Bored, watching movies. You?

You gotta fat ass

Um. Thanks?

Netflix and chill?🙈

Netflix and Netflix. We can talk and hang out..

So no chill

No sex, but we can hang out and do something else

After 5 minutes, you realize he's not going to write you back. You start to swipe again on pictures, left for the whites and weirdos. Right for the black people.

Your finger hovers in the air as you gasp lightly at the thirst trap provided by a man self-identified as Erik. It deserves another sip of apple juice. You gulp it down from your cup. "Jesus.." You can't even see his face, because it's all BODY, but you can tell by the picture exactly what he's on Tinder for. Same m.o. as Pussy Hunter.

Erik S, 28

Fucc around and find out

Good Lord.. those shorts are yet holding on, you stare as if they'll slip down further by you willing them to. You swipe right. Your eyes widen as the app alerts you with a blue star meaning... He super liked your profile.

"NO," you gasp wide eyed at the phone ready to chuck it at the wall. Switching to the messages, there's a new one.. from him.. and you know what it's about. "I need some tea."

---

Erik lazed around his house bumping Schoolboy Q, clad in a white terry cloth bathrobe with a short glass of iced Ciroc and Lemonade in his hand. Dancing, he exfoliated his face with his spin brush, trimmed his mustache and beard, shaped himself up, and moisturized his locs and facial hair. The lil lip scrub he'd gotten as a gift from Cierra, he'd initially fought her on because it smelled like peaches but he liked how soft it made his lips. They even tasted good. He licked his lips for the umpteenth time tasting sugar. They tasted like Cierra.

Speaking of sugar, he looked at his phone wondering why his hoes ain't called. Then again, they could've. He wasn't near the phone all day. Checking the iPhone on the charging dock he saw that he had a missed call.. from Cierra.

Checking the time she called, he figured that was back when he was cleaning his guns and checking the parts. He'd already cleaned and sharpened his knives. He'd checked his security cameras. He felt good. Having no major responsibility and no place to be.

Outside of the missed call he had three new nudes and a video sitting in his messages to watch and record himself masturbating to. He was looking forward to doing that especially since Rell hadn't called with no bullshit local cases. Erik had stated he ain't want no hits near his temporary home.. for a year, he wanted peace. One damn year. But here he was still racking basic skills for pennies. "Chump change is still change," Rell's voice played in his ear. "You don't wanna get rusty. Gotta keep your skills sharp."

Erik had done his share of moving around, racking up international kills and earning the nickname Killmonger. But for a little while, he wanted to settle down in one concealed location where no one knew where he lived, who the fuck he was, or where he was coming or going. He wanted the illusion of peace and normality for a year at least. As much money as he had, he figured he could afford to stay in one place for that long if he was careful.

Only two people knew where he lived and that was Rell and Swift. They knew not to come over. Not even the previous owners of the house knew he was there.. because he'd made them an anonymous offer, killed them and moved in a few days after they'd sold it to him for cash. Needless to say he took all that money back.

He dialed Cierra, roaming to his bedroom to collapse over the bed as the phone rung. "Sup Ci?"

"Master," she whimpered, the desperation in her voice telling him she needed release. She'd been working too long through the past week and needed Master to come take control for a few hours. He could picture her on her knees, already in puppy space. She knew exactly how he liked her to wait for him.

"Yes, Ci. You need me to come for a scene?"

"Rrrrr," she growled. "Arf arf!"

"My bad. Lil Bitch."

"I gotta go to Target and see my sister," but come through later. I don't care how late just call up."

"Your sister? The one you met on Facebook?"

"Yeah, her! She live like an hour away. I'm a link with her and put her on Tinder! Get her a man to pop that back out," she giggles.

"You know I don't mind a two for one," Erik teased knowing she wouldn't go for it. He liked to mess with her anyway.

"Not with my damn sister, I'm not that nasty. A white girl can have it,"

"Damn crush my dream."

"Anyway!"

"Aight, I'm a let you go." Hanging up, he sat up and went to his closet pulling a colorful glass bong he'd gotten from a nigga he once knew in the military. Bruce Everett, white boy. Cool nigga... Too bad he shot hisself with his own gun. Sighing, Erik shook his head and went to the bathroom to fill it with water and headed back to pull his chrome grinder from his drawer along with a screen, hempwick, and a nug of Dr. Greenthumb's Emdog OG, grinding it down to pack the bowl making it fluff up.

"Perfect," he whispered lighting the bong with the hempwick. He lit the edges of the weed going around in a circle for an even and smooth burn as he stood taking a good long hit. "Shit," he exhaled releasing the smoke. I love bongs.

He looked and the bowl was empty as he'd expected. One hit's all you need when you do it right.

"Tinder...," he played in his mind. He already had a fetlife which was how he'd found his subs. Tinder was something different though. He was curious.

Downloading the app on the phone used almost solely for contact with subs, he went through the process of setting up an account, hesitating to put his info. It was general enough and the shit that was too specific, he could just lie. Still, he wouldn't upload his face.

So all I gotta do is swipe and see everyone in the area, he mused looking at all the faces.

"No.. No.. Nope.. Facially challenged.. The fuck is that?.. Hell nah.. Yes.. Yes.. She cute.. Hell nah.. Yes... No..," he paused looking a little closer at the screen. "Hello... Damn."

Out of curiosity he clicked on the profile. "That ass tho!"

He smirked hitting his super like.

"Shid... You can get the blue like.. Whatever the fuck that mean.." He stared at the picture. She had a juicy looking aro with thick black curls, brown skin, bright almond eyes, and enough ass to feed the needy for months. "Shit, if I was on a deserted island with coconuts and that ass.. that's enough meat for a damn.. shidd.." He chuckled. "Fuck is a super like? I super like yo ass meat..," he chuckled again falling back on his bed. "It mean I'm a break yo shit in thirds and fuck the pieces," he coughed, over his own bullshit.

---

Jumping up, you speedwalk into your kitchen and quickly heat some water in a pot, pulling a red mug and a bag of chamomile and a bag of lemon balm to mix with sugar. Combining it all, you take a sip and stand there staring at the wall before taking it with you back to the couch. "Okay," you sigh picking up the phone to open the Tinder message thread.

Cum talk to me, he says. You stare at the words. Wow, this is so cringy you don't know how to respond. You sit the phone back down taking another sip. You think about ignoring him, but you keep touching the phone, coming back to the message and staring.

Hey, you finally type hesitating at the simplicity before sending.

How are you tonight ? Why you up ?

Bored, lonely, contemplating my existence over Glee and wondering why my high school years were never that damn musical. You sip your tea.

Having a tv party with just lil ol' me. Why are you up?

The fuck kinda life you living. You need me to cum spice shit up for you? 👀

You think you that spicy? 👀

You wanna taste me and see?

Jeez. You flip back to the faceless picture of his body. Lord have mercy.

Don't play with a real one I'll show the fuck up real shit, he writes.

Internally you're screaming. He really thinks you're about to have sex with him. "I can't, oh my god," you sigh bouncing your knee. You hesitate before responding.

You can come, but bring food.

Hell yeah. Then you can be dessert. 😈

What? You turn the screen off and grab your head, your elbows on your knees.

What am I doing. Y/N what are you doing.

No sex nigga, you type before taking it back and staring at the screen perplexed. If you say that, he won't message you back.. If you don't say it, he'll be expecting to get some! You still want him to come through though even if he leaves because you're bored. You just want a little company for a little bit.

Maybe you should get a cat..

Your leg shakes unsure of how to respond and you take another sip of the hot tea mix feeling anything but calm.

Without further delay you just drop your address and hope for the best, wondering if you just signed off on your own murder. Maybe I should've told him to meet me somewhere else in the daytime.

Washing your apple juice cup, you put it away and then throw on some black leggings and rainbow fuzzy socks not wanting to open the door in pink bootyshorts adding onto the wrong message you'd already sent him. You also put a kitchen knife under the sofa cushion for easy access just in case.

40 minutes. You like wings?

Parmesan

🤢 Love yourself, sis. I'm getting a mix.

Oh I see you Mr. Petty Labelle, you smile getting a taste of his personality.

Yep. Finna get some of Ms. Petty's pie

Uh uh, you smirk.

We nuh ave dat

That right? Guess I'll see for myself when I pull up 👅

He's a whole fool. You set the phone down smiling at the tv. Meanwhile you watch another episode.. actually watching it this time.

Knock knock, he messages and you see it having kept the thread up just in case he had an issue. Jumping up, you snatch your phone and take a deep breath to steady your nerves. This is the first time you've ever done something like this and you hope it doesn't go badly.

Who's there, you jest messaging back right before you unlock your multiple locks and crack the door. Peeping out, you shut the door automatically throwing your body against it, holding your breath. He's huge! You didn't even look up, you just saw all that muscle like Kangaroo Jack. And why was he all up on the door?!

"Word? You must not want these wings then," he says through the door. You hear plastic rattling dramatically. "That's aight I don't mind eating em by myself."

You crack the door again, peeping out. You hadn't even seen the plastic bag hanging from his hand, you'd shut him out so fast. You reach out to grab it and he pulls it back.

"Aht! This how you treat guests? Door in the face? Snatching bags?" Your eyes roam from his hard chest to the broadness of his shoulder, resting on the sleeve of his charcoal grey Chicago Bulls shirt. Those biceps.

"Look at you undressing me in your mind already. Go ahead, you can touch me," he adds holding his arm forward as if reading your mind. He talks a lot.

You snatch the bag and put it behind your back a bit, opening the door. Then you look up and your kitty jumps. It's the devil himself. You try to control your surprise but between his sharp narrow chestnut eyes that smirk down, his sculpted nose, and his full pouting lips, you don't know if you want to kiss him, bite him, or climb him. You wanna do all three and more right in the hall.. up against the wall. His hair too, it's a mess of semi-thick locks that point everywhere like Coolio. It's his everything really..

"Y/N.."

Omg. It sounds so good coming from him. This isn't fair.

"Aye..," he waves.

"Hm," you sigh staring at his face.

"You gone let me in?"

"Huh? Oh." You step back quickly and scan him from head to toe as he steps across the threshold. Bulls shirt, black track pants, black sneakers. His shoes are ugly though, the back heel juts out too far. Balenciaga is written in white. Oh.

You look up and see he's looking you up and down too. Oop. Leading the way you take him to the living room and he settles on the couch, his develish eyes on yours. His knees spread wide as he leans back, hips forward.

Silently screaming, you look away and sit the plastic food bag on the table.

You can feel him staring. The air is full of raunchy expectation and you can't say you blame him. You practically encouraged it on the phone.

"You want something to drink," you smile in friendly attempt, risking a glance and it's just as you thought.

"You know exactly what I want."

"To DRINK," you exphasize, ignoring the thump of your heart in your nana as his eyes roll over your hips.

"Mmm... You got Henny?"

"I have apple juice, tea, water.."

"Ciroc?"

Your face screws, Didnt I just-- "I don't drink.."

"Ever?"

You shake your head.

"Damn, Apple Juice."

Taking your sweet time to pour his juice and refill your tea, you re-enter the living room as the Glee cast kicks off another song that he mutes.

"Here ya go."

You give him his cup and feel the chill in your spine as his fingertips brush yours. Unmuting the tv, you sit on the opposite side of the couch, legs crossed, tense and unsure of what to say to him now that he's there.

"You look uncomfortable."

"Me? I'm fine. I was just marathoning Glee before you came," you say handing him the remote, "I've already seen it though."

He hands the remote back. "You seen Menace II Society?"

"I've heard the title!"

"Well pull it up, let's watch it."

Thank God. That's something easy. You fumble through buttons and he starts opening the food as you set up the movie.

---

"Ooh Laurenz Tate he so fine," she smiled sitting up as the movie started. She would be into his ass. Erik rolled his eyes. Wait for it.

"I hate when they do that," she mumbled in response to the Asian woman following them around the store.

"Yeah," he agreed with swig of the juice looking from the tv to her face, watching her reaction. Wait for it.

"Why don't you give my homeboy his change," O-Dog says before walking to the door. "I feel sorry for your mother," the store owner snubs.

Bitch, don't talk about my mama. That part always pissed Erik off.

"What you say about my mama? You feel sorry for who?!" O-Dog shouts. "I don't want any trouble, just get out," the shopowner shouts, backtracking like the bitch nigga he is.

Fuck that, shoot his bitchass, Erik barked in his head. POP. POP POP. POP. POP. There you go! He shot the wife too, meanwhile, the princess jumped in her seat, absorbed in the felony she just observed on screen. Double-homicide.

"He shouldn't have shot them.. Bruh, now the cops gone be looking for him and his friend wasn't even in it but now he's an accomplice."

"You telling me you wouldn't have shot a nigga talkin shit on your mama?" Erik leaned into her space, curious, but she ain't seem to notice.

"No, 'cause they're rude, ugly, and racist but still. You can't kill without consequences."

Erik steeled. She wasn't wrong.

"I'd have shot his ass too," he admitted watching her. She didn't seem to agree. "Should've kept his mouth off his family."

"You close to your family," she asked suddenly.

"Yeah," he lied knowing his people were dead. "...You mind if I get more juice," he pointed to his cup and she took it refilling it.

Fifteen minutes into the movie, she noticed her wing choice wasn't in the selection and Erik kept a poker face having wondered when she'd realize. He'd already started on the barbecue.

"Where's my parmesan," she frowned looking in the boxes.

"They ain't have it," he lied. "Ran out."

"You're such a liar. Now what am I gonna eat," she pouted to his humor.

"Eat the carribean jerk," he nudged the box to her. She eyed it and he felt like a wolf trapping a rabbit, the wings being the bait.

"I ask you for one thing."

"Yeah and? I wasn't finna buy that shit," he chuckled grabbing a jerk wing and biting it, closing his eyes and humming as he chewed to entice her. When he peeked, she was watching his mouth out the corner of her eye as he licked spicy sauce off his thumb. Sliding down in the cushion, she crossed her arms and raised a knee with her fuzzy foot on the couch. Such a damn brat. Ol' hungry ass.

He started to flex the length of his tongue since she was looking but decided against it. He couldn't be too aggressive or she'd spook and he wouldn't get no ass. Why he cared, he couldn't put a finger on other than the fact that she'd become a challenge. This girl would not let him anywhere near her. She was very shy considering she was down for a one night stand. I'm getting the draws, he promised himself right then. How? He just had to make her come to him.

Her nose wrinkled as she picked up a jerk wing, rotating it.

"Girl eat the wing, this ain't rocket science," he fussed watching her bite it.

"It's better than parmesan?" Lie, he dared watching her closely.

She took another bite.. then she attacked the wing and when she licked her fingers, he looked away grabbing another wing and swig of his juice.

"OKAY. SHUT UP." She grabbed another wing chewing through it as he coughed in his elbow hiding his laugh.

"I didn't say anything," he croaked shrugging her off.

"But you smiling and I can hear you thinking."

He couldn't hide the fat grin plastered on his face though he'd tried by looking away. "How you hear me thinking," he squinted watching her collect bones.

"Because I do, you're loud," she stressed.

"How I'm l-"

"SHH!! I'm tryna hear," she whispered. He shook his head watching the corner of her mouth lift and they watched the movie in silence until she reached for another wing and all the jerk were gone. He pushed her another box.

"You all the way over there. Come sit next to me."

"I'm not that far."

"You are. I promise I won't bite you.."

Her eyes rolled.

"Not unless you into that shit," he added patting the cushion beside him. She lifted, barely moving. "You scared?"

"What you mean?" She looked nervous all of a sudden looking anxiously in his eyes. This was gonna be a tough wall to break.

He patted the cushion again, waiting, and she finally moved in closer filling the empty seat beside him. He determined right then not to touch her but to get as close as possible maintaining proximity to get her used to his presence. Draping an arm over the couch behind her, he observed silently as she sat tense for the the next five minutes before relaxing. He had his work cutout.

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