#Can we get a Epoch reveal!!! I wanna see her

[gimmickdreamworld2518]

Wiki update: Epoch and Luge are possible relatives

Still not used to Akinori dub name. Also doesn't help that they call him Vance-

[heli0s-writes]

III. Paralysis*

Summary: “I’m sorry,” you sob, locked around Bucky’s bicep, his forearm, fingers digging into the smooth obsidian plates, fisting the fabric of his sleeve. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” As if he were Natasha—as if you could stop both her death and his mangling, or at least hold her the way you are holding him now.

A/N: 9.8k words. OOF.

Warnings: Language, robots v. monsters violence, Big Time angst and comfort, smutty bits (dry-humping, thigh riding).

Trinity Epoch Masterpost

He leaves around sunset. Hair combed neatly to the side and freshly shaven, Steve’s dashing in a fitted suit and tie. 

In the middle of passing around a basketball, Erik Killmonger, in all his subtlety, whistles, “Looking fresh, white boy!”

Steve smirks, smoothing the front of his jacket, “This monkey suit? I’d rather be in circuitry.”

He’s been laying low since Siegehook, since Bucky’s arm, and since you. But now the story’s changed and he’s gotta get his narrative straight— he’s introducing a new character, changing the players, and guiding the spotlight exactly where it needs to go.

Jimmy Fallon— Kimmel? One of the Jimmies personally flew into Hong Kong for a special taping of his late-night show. Orion racked up eleven kills; it’s another record and the people want what they want.

Fury called the three you of into his office after the network reached out for the umpteenth time. He strategized shrewdly to have Steve on this particular broadcast because it’s not as serious as a news report and not as wordy as an interview. Too many things can go wrong in both: cross-examinations, misquoting, scrutiny after the fact.

Steve works best in front of a live audience. He’ll sit down tonight—broad and tall—smile at the camera and the host, make a few charming quips, and then he’ll let the world know.

James has been hurt. The next breach will overlap his recovery time—don’t worry, everybody, fortunately, there’s a pilot available to step in and fill his place until he’s fully healed. And yes, he’ll be back soon, both in the Jaeger and on the show— I know you miss him, he’s even more popular than me, huh? Broody and quiet, right, ladies? He’s a hit!

Then he’ll laugh and field some questions about his new partner—but keep it vague for both yours and Bucky’s sake.

It didn’t need to be said. You didn’t want to be named, Steve didn’t want to make any assumptions for the future, and Bucky didn’t want to know if anyone thought he couldn’t pilot anymore.

Erik passes and you catch, sidestepping Thor and shooting over his figure which is no easy feat considering his massive height and the way Steve is staring you down. You don’t have to be hooked up to his brain to know what he’s wondering. 

Since the trial run, you’ve been feeling the after-effects of the drift in oscillating waves. Sometimes you catch yourself standing ramrod straight, physically feeling heavier, knowing it’s him.

You okay? We talked about this. Yes, you are. No, you aren’t. It’s complicated. He’s fixes his tie the same time you spot a wrinkle. After-effects.

Erik jumps for a rebound when you miss the next basket, getting it knocked away by Thor’s enormous hand. Steve’s already gone when you look back, but Erik is passing again, and your next shot sinks through the net.

“That’s fuckin’ right!” He knocks his elbow into yours proudly, pushing sleeves over elbows until you can see the patterns of scarification up his arms. Feet back and forth on the scuffed concrete with distracted rhythm, you dribble, thoughts still on Steve.

“Hey,” a voice calls over the sound of the slamming ball. Barnes toes the edge of the makeshift court. A jacket is tucked under his arm, baseball cap atop his dark head. “Come on, it’s Friday night and you’re thinking too much. I wanna show you a place.”

-

He leads with confidence, directing the taxi in practiced Cantonese picked up over the last two years. Then, once disembarked, he peeks back every few minutes on the street to check if you’re still following. Your gait is awkward—steps firm, but lopsided. All off kilter and wound up like a spring.

It’s okay. In Bucky’s experience, food always helps. He’s taking you to his favorite restaurant—hole-in-the-wall Sichuan. He hollers over his shoulder, "You better be prepared for spice!”

-

Red lacquered doors open with a tinkering sound, a tiny overhead bell signaling new arrivals. A hostess steers through a path of similarly varnished tables and decorated chairs when Bucky asks for a quiet corner. Fish tanks of koi gleam green and blue. Chandelier scatters gold and white diamond shapes on a ceiling painted like a cloudy sky.

Hot tea first, and he sips carefully, gaze moving up to the T.V. behind your back when you’re busy flipping through the menu. A few more minutes pass of your furrowed brow sinking deeper and Bucky’s hand slides quickly across the tablecloth, nudging the booklet from your clutch.

“I got this.” And relief washes over your entire body like rain.

-

The appearance of entrees breaks your trance. Mai Gai, Char Siu Bao, Dan Dan noodles, and eggplant in garlic sauce—you’re trying to tell him it’s too much, wondering when he even ordered, but he ignores you. Not his fault you spaced out, he says, catch, and a napkin flies directly into your chest.

It makes you laugh, and Bucky secretly wants to tell you that it wouldn’t kill you to do it more often. Why the hell not, anyway? He’s tired of being upset about something that was largely inevitable. He knew the risk of death when they signed up to be Rangers so on the bright side, at least it’s his arm and not his head. At least it’s his arm and not his co-pilot’s. You’ve proven to be more than capable and proven to be someone he can trust with Steve’s life.

If Bucky had any doubts about whether or not that damned Rogers determination would see them through—they’ve been dispelled now.

The drift was sound. When Steve stepped out from the loading dock, he was lighter like half his weight had been sloughed off. When you followed, helmet pulled from your face, Bucky could see where it landed. Your hips, your shoulders, your jaw, all defiant—even if temporarily—coming down from the high of the handshake. Squared and strong, you looked at Bucky and certainty gleamed from your eyes.

You are Orion’s new pilot. He’s gotta give it up. It could be worse.

Bucky’s fingers shift as he unsnaps chopsticks and grabs spoons, the plates on his left clicking quietly, flexing his pointer when it sticks. Sometimes the prosthetic is a little glitchy because nothing’s perfect, but Stark and Shuri are constantly making updates. They use technology from the spinal clamp to connect his synapses, running tests on its reaction time, sensitivity, and functionality. He can feel pressure, but not pain, and wouldn’t it be nice if it applied elsewhere, too?

He passes your utensils over, wrapped loosely in a napkin. It could be worse.

“Hey Barnes,” you call earnestly, running your fingers over an embossed floral pattern on the paper, “Thanks.”

He’s not looking at you yet, firmly on a mission for soy sauce and chili oil. He makes a well of it in a ceramic dish and stirs with a chopstick, moving it to the center of the table, finding distraction in small tasks.

“...Barnes?”

“It’s Bucky,” he says finally, flicking his eyes to your hopeful face, “You can call me Bucky, alright? Usually that’s just for Steve, but you’ve been in his head—know me now, I guess. So you might as well. Hold your horses—I’ll serve you.”

Speechless, you put your hands in your lap and observe him scoop food, the syllables of his offered nickname tapping like a metronome over your curious tongue.

Bucky, you consider, watching the way he moves. Bucky, with his long hair pulled back and out of his cap. Bucky, his soft and worn hoodie, boots drumming gently against the table leg, eyes discreetly glazed over because he doesn’t think you notice the change in his mood.

Bucky, who made you laugh in the Jaeger hangar—even if he did threaten your life upon the first meeting. Who could have let you rot from boredom and worry, but instead took you into Hong Kong to his favorite restaurant without being asked to. Who could hate you—truly, truly hate you—for taking half his life from him, but instead is piling a mound of fragrant jasmine rice on your plate.

“What?”

“Bucky. I like it. It sounds nice.”

A clipped noise of displeasure, “Okay. Don’t fuckin’ wear it out.”

“Bucky...?” You murmur, sly. “Bu-cky. Buck-y.” The tips of his ears swell pink as you continue, emphatically pressing your lips together, letting your jaw hang open, pronouncing with precision. A bite of a steamed bun and you lick the edge of your mouth, “Bucky…hm…”

He sputters.

“Would you stop? Jesus, you’re annoying just like him— no fucking wonder— the two of you. Just fuckin’ darling.” His words are all run together with how fast his frustrated tongue moves, a healthy flush over his cheeks, spoon clinking on his plate.

It’s cute. Stoic, serious, James—Bucky Barnes– just a boy who can’t take a bit of flirting without lighting up like a candle. It’s fun. You like him, Bucky Barnes.

An unexpected ache overtakes you and suddenly Bucky looks more familiar than he ever has. Something excruciating about the soft crinkles of his brow, the way his generous lips draw back to reveal a sliver of his teeth.

He’s Bucky wiping the sweat from his collar in a dirty alleyway, jeans torn at the knees, bruises budding along his knuckles as he yanks up a troublesome blonde friend. Bucky, young and determined, helping Steve into bed every time he got sick.

Bucky, hovering pallid and broken in the drift, hurt and afraid but you felt his resolute strength in Steve’s head even as he howled in agony. Far off and shuffling in transparent layers until he was little more than a specter, but he was there.

His eyes lift again, raising to point you toward the T.V.

“There’s our boy.”

Our boy. And it keeps hurting.

You twist your torso as Steve steps out from backstage, waving and smiling, impeccably poised. He shakes Jimmy’s hand— silently mouthing thank you and hey because the cheering and yelling is too loud to hear him anyway. You try to stop thinking about Bucky anywhere but corporeal and whole across the tablecloth.

“Hey, Jimmy, how are ya?”

“Good—good, Steve. It’s so great to have you on the show again! Wow, you look great! Specimen.”

Steve chuckles modestly, tucking his chin to his chest, “Thanks, you do too.”

“Alright, no need to flatter me, we’re already in love with you, okay?”

You grin the same time Steve does, but whereas he continues to joke and enthrall two hundred people, you grow restless. Bucky refills your tea and drops a crumble of yellow rock sugar in.

“Relax,” he mutters, “It’s fine. He’s good at this. Eat your food.”

And you know this; you know him. Steve’s good when the questions get too personal and when there’s gaps in the conversation—when the cheering interrupts him or when his jaw ticks before he morphs it into a smile.

He’s good when he breaks the news to a hushed audience, gone eerily quiet like they’ve stepped on consecrated ground. Steve gives them those big blue eyes and the room immediately bursts into applause. Some people are crying. The host is shocked into wordlessness.

You feel relieved, getting what you pleaded for. No cameras. No questions. No pressure. The truth is aired, and Bucky seems pleased, too. You’re about to turn around, offer your full attention, thankful for his company, but then something else happens.

Jimmy blinks his stupor away from the blow of Steve’s confession. He takes a sip from his mug and after a short exchange of, thank you for your transparency, it must have been hard— wow I didn’t think you’d drop a bomb like that on us tonight! I thought I was the one with the ace up my sleeve— ha!

He points off-stage and says, “After that, I think you deserve a nice surprise, Steve. Ready?”

Tall, gorgeous, lightly curled hair cascading down her back—the surprise is a woman. She steps easily in heels, an off-the-shoulder red dress hugging tight to her body. Stunning. She waves to the audience and they go wild. 

Steve shoots up to meet her for a kiss in front of the host desk, shaking his head in disbelief, tangling his fingers in her silky hair. There’s cheering again and the crying keeps on.

“Oh my god— Jimmy! You sly devil!” He’s overjoyed. “Baby— how’d you—I thought you were working.”

“I can always make an exception for my favorite guy.” She showcases perfectly white teeth and the high apples of her rosy cheeks.

It’s Ophelia Reyez, Steve’s model-turned-actress girlfriend of approximately six months. Her recent appearance on the Victoria Secret fashion show blew up the internet and her last Sports Illustrated swimsuit cover sold out in every gas station you went into.

Their first meeting was at a charity event—raising awareness about pollution in the Pacific, discouraging scavengers from harvesting Kaiju parts after battles. A picture of them standing two feet away made its way through social media the next morning her PR team made contact before noon.

So of course, it was decided; it’s a beneficially mutual relationship, after all. Doesn’t matter if he hates it or not—people don’t want to know that pilots live in a metal box and play basketball on Friday nights. They want to see Rangers in a role— monogamous relationships with beautiful people, white picket fence (or gated community) future in the making, and eventually plump-faced babies in strollers.

Steve’s now back in his seat, shifted so Ophelia is sitting in his lap, turned to the side. His hands are locked around her slender waist—an incredibly believable display of public affection. She kisses his cheek, leans her head on his shoulder, beaming brightly. If you were anybody else, you’d believe it; you have before.

“Fuck me gently with a chainsaw,” you whisper in both awe and annoyance.

“Feeling it, huh?” Bucky speaks plainly around a bite of eggplant when he notices your jaw. That habitual and microscopic signal he’s grown to spot a mile away means Steve’s irritated and pissed off, and now it means that you are, too.

“Yeah,” you admit, shaking your head. You turn back to him, thoroughly bothered, having had enough of the performance.

“Uh-huh. Everyone’s a Fly—even her.”

You sigh at the label. Jaeger Flies, is what he’s saying. Ranger groupies. Derisive titles— and maybe deserved— for men and women who are attracted to pilots solely because they’re pilots. They want the opportunity to be famous or the privilege of being elite.

Even her, Ophelia Reyes. She’ll forever look at Steve Rogers as the Ranger.

Natasha always lamented—usually as she took her earrings off after a date, heels slipping off her pale feet—about another civilian man who worshipped her, and how that would be a dream for most people, to be so adored, so revered, but you always felt her sorrow in the drift mourning a love she couldn’t have.

She wanted the white picket fence. The normal life, normal husband, normal family. Her clean break from the past where monsters could no longer chase her in Decima and nightmares could no longer chase her at night. Behind closed doors, she was all torn open at the seams. And you’d wordlessly tell her shut up because she had a family with you. You loved her too, wasn’t that worth something?

She’d spiral and spiral and nothing was ever enough.

Your stomach twists and it keeps hurting.

-

Bucky pays for dinner. He asks as he pops a mint into his mouth, “Up for dessert?”

“God, Buck.” You groan, and Bucky takes a second to run that through his head again. God, Buck. Another thing like Steve.

“C’mon, I wanna show you another place,” he says thoughtfully, “Hold on to your hat, punk.”

A lighthearted swat to your back and then he’s shoving the ballcap hanging from his chair on your head.

-

The streets are lit with all sorts of colors as you follow him through the market, peering at vendors showcasing an abundance of food and miscellaneous items. You keep telling him you’re too full and can’t eat another fucking bite, but he only commands you to walk it off. The crispiest egg waffles are somewhere down this way, and even though he can’t remember the intersection, it should be close.

Between steps and dodging passerby’s, he relates his own experiences of brief PR relationships. A Russian woman one time, and a Greek woman another time. Cross-cultural because it made the PPDC look good—and it was all about looking good. He loathed it, of course, but he’d bite down a couple of months before their representatives would release those asinine joint statements about “conscious uncoupling” – schedules too busy, still have love for each other in their hearts, though.

“Couldn’t tell you those girls’ middle names. We’d get together just long enough for some media circulation—dates where we’d pretend to be offended when pictures leaked on TMZ.”

“Well,” you muse over a vision of Bucky leaned back on Steve’s mattress, returned late and bored of another paparazzi encounter swarming him in the lobby of some hotel. You know it like a dream—his ankles crossed, shoes shucked off, cracking his neck. Fuckin’ wild, Stevie. This girl. My knees ain’t what they used to be.

“Least you got your dick plenty wet, didn’t ya?”

He makes a noise like an engine backfiring—offended like you’ve pawned off his prized possessions or something.  

“Jesus—you’re an ass.” He slams the bill of the cap down until it hits you in the nose. Another huff, more cursing, and then he’s saying fuck you before speeding off alone. 

You chase cheerily, finding his chestnut head peeking over the crowd with ease because he’s tall and hard to lose in Hong Kong. A few more blocks down with him looking back surreptitiously to make sure you’re not lost, and Bucky ends up being the one who is actually lost.

“Shit. Can’t find the stand,” he grumbles, “Don’t give me that face. These are way better than the ones we passed earlier—fucking all soft in the middle—fresh pandan leaf, alright? You don’t get it.”

“I don’t even know what that is,” you laugh, feeling your cheeks grow tired from the way they’ve been lifted all night.

A stifled, hot breeze of urban downtown mixes with a chilly gust of wind, carrying Bucky’s petulance away though the throng. Blinking, you look around, craning your neck and shuffle to the curb. Stalls with hanging lanterns. Carts lined with pickled mango. Vendors grilling skewers of pork and cleaving roast duck into chunks.

You suddenly dart from him across the busy road and barely avoid a rickshaw balancing two enormous baskets of finger bananas. When you return, you hold up matching green popsicles. One gets shoved into his mouth, other one into yours. Pandan, like he wanted.

“Hey, it’s not bad,” you give it another taste. Lingering coconut, a little bit leafy, but not unpleasant. “Oh shit—cold!”

Bucky licks his lips, stinging red from the ice. You shudder loudly as brainfreeze hits, another chatter of your teeth following when a gust of wind whips through. He shrugs his jacket from his shoulders.

-

He calls you a dumbass after an embarrassing story about the time you skinny-dipped in a pond near The Icebox in the middle of winter. A handsome man, your eager libido, and a handle of whiskey had been involved. You giggle about being bed-ridden for half a week afterwards, but you got his number and a few good nights in his bed.

“Guess you’re not as boring as I thought.”

You whistle, “Sweetheart, I got stories that’ll put some hair on your chest.”

Bucky smacks you on the shoulder. “Ass.”

-

The Shatterdome comes into view much later.

What would have normally been a three-hour excursion, at most, has unintentionally into six and you’re nowhere close to tired—not quite ready for it to end. Bucky is bright with energy, too.

The past hours have been dedicated to recalling old tales. One led to another, threads pulled from the most insignificant of mentions—your old Boston Terrier’s underbite; Bucky accidentally knocking Steve’s bottom lip into his own braces in sixth grade and it swelled up so big he could hardly talk; Natasha, unable to pronounce fucking aluminum out of all the damn words in the world; you, unable to pronounce facetious; and then Bucky, trying his own hand at it and realizing he can’t either.

“Fa—fa-shish-shush? Fascist—tus? Factitious… Ah, shit.”

“Buck,” you gasp through another fit, “Bucky—you have to shut up. Oh—Oh my god—my face hurts.”

“Christ, who fucking made this word up?” He turns the corner toward the living quarters, shaking his head. Just you and him between the rooms and his steps slow at the advent of an inbound goodnight.

Bravely, now that you’re in more secluded space, you offer, “I can tell you more... if you want. Anything. It’s only fair.”

“Yeah,” he says, going quiet and careful. “If you want to.”

So, you take a deep breath, bookended by a nervous grin because other than Steve, the only person who knows anything about you outside a confidential manila folder is dead.

“Well, it might surprise you, since I’m just so goddamn talented—"

“Oh, here we fuckin’ go.”

“Kidding. I wasn’t good at anything,” you elbow him before fishing out your key. “Other than getting into trouble.” Clicks of the cylinder and your vault door squeaks open. “Lots of fighting—I was a small kid. Had nothing but the clothes on my back and just the biggest chip on my shoulder.”

“Sounds like someone I know.”

Yeah. It’s funny. Steve’s alleyway fisticuffs might as well have been your own. You tell him as soon as the PPDC started recruiting again, you were in line. Their standards were confusingly specific and the tests they ran didn’t make any sense, but you passed and landed in Kodiak Island under the austere care of Stacker Pentecost. 

Flipping the light on, you invite him inside. “I’d been in and out of foster homes. Barely had a high school degree. Got into… bad work. You know— what do homeless young adults with questionable moral codes do when their 9-5 isn’t paying the bills?” It’s desperate joke to break up the tension but he doesn’t take the bait.

“I’m not judging.”

You plop down on the edge of your table— a spotty metal thing pilfered from a vacated room. He takes the single seat in front of you, moving a dusty glass of water toward the wall, expression only showing attentiveness.

“Well, anyway…” you pause, “I was in the Bay Area after Trespasser— you know, scavenging. But, well, it changes your perspective a little when you’re sneaking through government tape at 3 in morning, stepping over flowers and memorabilia for all the deaths to crouch over a monster’s fucking toenail.” 

“Hell,” a sardonic and self-deprecating grin, “I might have been a degenerate street urchin, but someone’s family got taken from them and here I was—monetizing their tragedy.”

Arching your back for more comfort, you splay your left leg over the surface, “Pentecost always said if I was lucky enough, I’d suffer brain damage or radiation poisoning, but might as well die in a Jaeger than in a ditch like I figured I always would. Son of a bitch had my number.”

Bucky’s lips are pursed lightly, eyes are tracing the path of your laces through bent hooks when you wriggle your boot back and forth. He spreads his hand over your ankle, keeping you still.

You swallow when he squeezes.

“Uh— I met Nat at Kodiak.” Bucky is warm. You oscillate between ignoring him and focusing on him, clinging to his hold instead of chasing the thought of Natasha too much. “We were… very similar. Childhood, um, troubles and all that.” You give him a pointed look and he makes a small noise of understanding with no intention to press for details, “She became my best friend. She was the first person I had. My only family.”

A nod of mock irritation and he says, “Yeah. Steve was always a part of mine. Sometimes they say they like him more than me. Can’t blame ‘em.”

“It’s the charm. They make it seem effortless, huh?”

“Fucker can’t take a bad picture to save his life.”

You laugh. “A smile like the goddamn sun!”

“One look into those stupid blue eyes and you’re a goner.”

“Criminally pretty.”

“Hah!” Bucky snorts, “Pretty enough for all of us.”

The floodlight on the wall casts darkness in the shape of your head over his shoulder. Lines of wayward hair caress his neck, tapered strands resting on his collarbones, chestnut glowing orange. His irises stipple forest green when it touches the light, smile nostalgic and lovely.  

“Don’t be stupid,” you look at him for another minute longer, “You’re pretty, too, Buck.”

A raise of his brow. Bucky’s mouth opens and closes a few times vacantly. “Thanks,” he mutters finally. Then, bashfully, “So are you.” 

Then, a cautious murmur of your name that you almost miss, and he’s peering up at you, deliberately soft. Bucky’s thumb knead small circles over the stitching of your jeans.

“You loved her, didn’t you?”

You loved her, didn’t you?

The years sweep through, passing over your face in a range of rapid-fire emotions. Bucky watches them change like shadows of a bonfire. Delight, amusement, longing. Anger, despair, grief. Deep and unforgiving because she was your whole world—all you had— and she left too soon.

You inhale and it sounds like a sniffle— exhale, and it sounds like a sob. No going back now; you did promise him anything.

You loved her, didn’t you?

Of course you loved her. Natasha-fucking-goddamn-Romanoff. Yeah, of course you did.

You loved her like a sister. You loved her like a lover. You loved her in reflexive ways, like mother’s intuition, finding your motivation in the need to protect her even though she hardly ever needed protection. You loved her like precious gems. You loved her like she was made from your own rib. You loved her enough to love unreciprocated.

“Well, you spend years living with someone, in their brain, learning everything about them— every decision in and out of their control that led them up to who they ended up being. Their—all their impulses and all the things they think about themselves. How—how they hate themselves sometimes.”

You’d always said you were the stupid one. Too stupid to reflect on the past and too stupid to let it burden your conscience the way she’d let hers. A running gag whenever her hand jammed putting on a lipstick she’d worn a million times and you’d finally have to do it for her.

Cheer up, Nat. You’re too pretty to cry. You’d line her lips, pat in rouge delicately, encouragingly. And then you’d shut up because there was nothing you could tell her. A million reassurances rolled off her back because they only made her feel worse. She clung onto your care like another weapon in her chest because she couldn’t return it even though you told her you wanted nothing from her but happiness. Jesus Christ, Nat, I thought I was the stupid one.

“When you know someone like that, it’s easy, isn’t it? You see them exactly for who they are and suddenly there’s no longer the concept of good or bad. What else could I do but love her? Especially when she thought so little of her damn self—tried everything to be someone else but—Jesus, if you only knew how radiant she was—”

You shut your eyes. “A smile… like the goddamn sun. Ah, fuck—"

And now you’re crying. You haven’t cried about Natasha in almost half a year because it’s something you track like the entrance bay’s war clock. Five months. Ten days. Zero again.

You’re choking back too many words and you don’t even know why you said all of that. You start apologizing, rattling out more, too much again, desperately like a prayer, pitch escalating higher and higher. “She deserved everything. A life that was completely—solely—hers. A life that made her happy— and why— why her?”

Why not me? 

Bucky hears it in the silence. Watches it descend like a funeral shroud, weighing you down until you look as heavy as Steve on his worst days—when he stares at Bucky’s arm, like Bucky can’t see, can’t feel him there. And he knows Steve is thinking, why not me?

Bucky rises to his feet, stepping next to your uselessly dangling leg, resting his left hand on your shoulder and you grasp him, clutching achingly tight, torn to bits. And it’s too much all at once.

“I’m sorry,” you sob, locked around his bicep, then his forearm, fingers digging into the smooth obsidian plates, fisting the fabric of his sleeve. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” As if he were Natasha—as if you could stop both her death and his mangling, or at least hold her the way you are holding him now.

You’re smashed into little pieces, barely keeping your head above water, holding it all in, and no one recognized how you were drowning the entire time.

Solemnly, curiously, he feels like he’s seeing you for the first time but not quite, remnants of familiarity sparks in him—the filmy plastic layer of an old photograph pressing down to reveal something he once knew and finally knows again.

You make helpless noises, staring numbly ahead, tears rolling out like marbles to drop into your lap.

Bucky shakes his head, “I’m fine,” he whispers gently—frustrated—brow furrowed, his fingers rubbing the salt from your chin, “Quit your blubberin’.” He tilts your face up to the light, watching you take a shuddering breath, exhausted from unearthing buried skeletons.

It's wet when he kisses you, supple flesh chapped around the edges from anxious gnawing, swollen hot from weeping. It’s soft and quick, and then he pulls away.

“St—sorry,” he says, mouth pressing into a thin line, lips drawn in and tentatively licked. “Sorry, I don’t know… I don’t know why I did that. I shouldn’t have.”

Your eyes are sad—big and vulnerable, inflamed red, confused, worried, something else weaving through the damp gaze. Your strong, small fingers are still tight on him, and even though Bucky pulled away and apologized, he rushes forward again.

His free hand curls around your neck, supporting your head. Lips part and close, pressing firmly, expertly, naturally. It feels like he’s kissed you before and missed it— like a kiss he’s been waiting on for a long time.

Banging on your door jerks him away. You careen off the tabletop, smooth the back of your hair, wipe your face and the vault creaks open.

“Marshal,” Bucky greets.

“Rangers…” Fury’s steps are suspicious, phone in his hand aglow. “I thought we had a plan.”

Your heart is beating too fast, the press of Bucky’s plush lips still warm, the scent of his skin still near. You sense it like an imprint, feel it like a brand. The room spins with an onslaught of possible scenarios—all horrendously unclear.

“Care to explain this to me?” The marshal turns his phone toward you, the lit screen displaying a photo of a dark street, illuminated by red and yellow lanterns. A thick crowd is spread around stalls of fruit and knick-knacks.

The headline reads James Barnes Spotted in Hong Kong with Mystery Woman, and the two of you are circled inside a red ring. You’re teetering off the curb of the sidewalk next to a sewer grate. It’s grainy and distorted, but Bucky’s striking features are clear.

“And this one?”

Bucky’s cap on your head, popsicle sticks between your teeth and his.

Steve Rogers on Jimmy! Jimmy Barnes on a Date!

James Barnes Officially Over Penelope Mercouri.

James Barnes’ Injury?

Fury tucks his device back into his coat. “Not that I care what you get up to on your spare time, but we had a tale to tell. It’s hard pushing an agenda when you’re pushing the wrong way.”

“We just got dinner,” you stutter, an upsurge of guilt rising. The speculation, the kiss, the gut-wrenching reflex that feels like a crime. Fury’s calculating now, looking from you to Bucky, assessing the situation with some pity because you truly look pitiful.

“What you got is PR on cleanup. Potts has been trawling Twitter for the last 20 minutes. For someone who doesn’t want to be in the public eye, you’re making a lot of noise.” He points to Bucky’s jacket still over your shoulders.

You tear it off. “It’s not—”

“Oh no—I won’t be losing sleep any over it.” The marshal’s single eye blinks calmly, “She can spin the story, but you become responsible for this.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means, Ranger, that the spotlight is on you now. And there is nowhere to run.”

And if you didn’t think it could get any worse, footfalls down the hallway reach your ears in a pattern that you recognize immediately. Here he is, stepping into your room like it’s his own, suit jacket over his forearm, shirt halfway untucked and tie pulled loose. His lips drawn together and unreadable.

But you read it: Steve’s seen the pictures, too.

And goddamn, if you didn’t think it could get any worse— the earsplitting alarm announcing sudden movement in the breach startles you all.

“Orion Bravo, report to Bay 08, Level B. Codename Polidori. Category 2 Kaiju.” Shuri’s reedy voice is collected but critical. The thin screen next to your bed blinks on primary colors, wavy lines of activity rising and falling, counting down until emergence. Three hours.

Banner streams down the hall. The ruckus drowns him out.

Fury’s dark skin is ochre beneath the lights, “Category II,” he says, “Should be achievable. Odinsons will be on standby, guarding the Miracle Mile. Maximoffs on the coastline. They’ll come to you if necessary. Shelve your personal troubles, Rangers, we’ll continue this conversation later.”

-

Circuitry. Battle armor. Helmet beneath your arm. Muscle memory cuts down the time to seven minutes until you’re set to board, but you need more. Just a few—you have to tell him—better now than later—better from your mouth than from the drift. So, you blurt, “Bucky kissed me.”

Steve turns.

“We kissed. It—it’s nothing. I just needed to tell you before we get in. Didn’t want to seem like I’m hiding anything—I’m not.” It sounds so stupid, like a child admitting fault for breaking a window with a too-hard throw. It sounds like betrayal.

His helmet is gripped tightly in the crook of his elbow. Steve’s chin juts out incrementally, chewing on the inside of his lip, the air around him gone stagnant until he makes a noise both like a scoff and a hum.

“Sure. Fine. I get it—you’re lonely.” It’s worse than any response you expected to receive. “You know what I mean.”

It must be a testament to the depth of your connection now— you knowing him, him knowing you in all the ways that can make an argument escalate into atomic warfare. Precision strikes and then the two of you walking Ground Zero in its aftermath. 

“Wait—you think I’m lonely?” You block his way out, furious. “What the fuck does that— have you met yourself? Girlfriends who will never see you for who you are. Ophelia Reyez? Katherine Lau?”

Orion Bravo. Report to the loading platform.

“I know exactly what I’m doing—do you? I spent all evening on T.V. for you--”

“Oh, boo-fucking-hoo, Mister Martyr in front of a drooling audience telling white lies and screwing a Victoria’s Secret Angel in some penthouse suite— such sacrifices you’ve made in my honor.”

Orion Bravo. Report to the loading platform.

“What the fuck have you done lately?” Steve snaps, “Other than try to fuck my co-pilot?”

His words hit like a kick in the goddamn teeth. You slam your helmet into his chest and the polycarbonate shells knock together violently.

“I’m your fucking co-pilot,” you snarl, “You wanted me.”

Steve steadies himself, twisting until he’s snarling at you down the bridge of his nose, “Enough. We’re being hailed, I’m not breaking this record because of you, and not for a Category II. Get your shit together.”

You grind your molars when he pushes you aside, stumbling on shaking legs. Your brain feels gnarled—misshapen and bent up in sharp, jagged points—and as much as you want to stomp his goddamn face in, he’s right: you can’t feel this way. You can’t. It’s your first drop in two years with the best pilot by your side—and you’re responsible for his life. The last one proved disastrous, and you cannot risk that again.

Your suit feels heavier with each step. When you climb in after Steve, the rig feels more obstinate. Your head, chest, heart are all swollen with turmoil and hot rage.

He’s next to you, breathing deeply. You mimic, shelving personal troubles like the marshal commanded.

Out of alignment, the automated voice of the system calls, and you push it back further, grabbing the entire shelf and hurling it into the depths. Steve sends you an incisive look. A blame. You take a breath, another, and another. Fuck!

“Orion.” The heads-up display spotlights Bucky’s face in the control room, emotionless. “Focus.”

You inhale one more time, seeking reassurance in his unwavering gaze—necessary peace in the silhouette of his phantom left arm. Bucky. Steve. Natasha. You. There can be no more loss. You cannot let it happen again.

Levels stabilizing.

To your right, Steve makes a noise like he’s shaking something off.

Neural Handshake complete.

Bucky stands behind the glass, watching aircrafts lower their hooks. A nod of his dark head is the last thing you see before Orion is lifted from the hangar.

-

There would be a fucking storm.

You’ve always hated fighting in the rain because Kaiju are enormous, slippery, alien amphibians, and Orion’s left fist slides off more times than you’d like. This one’s much smaller than Orion, which allows it the slight advantage of speed, slicing through the water like a shark, corkscrewing for an extra boost of velocity before emerging with a splash from behind.

A miss when you and Steve weave away, hazarding a minor scratch to the right shoulder before Orion’s shield knocks it back.

Despite the vexing evening and the simmering hurt in the pit of your chest, the drift is steady. So, you take it for what it is, cast the rust off your bones, and the two of you do some fucking damage on this thing.

Banner named it Polidori, after the writer credited with inventing the vampire genre. K-Science sonars detected protruding fangs and petal flaps folded on its back like vestigial wings. So, Polidori, he shrugged, it’s cute.

You discover with swift horror that the flaps are neither vestigial nor cute when Polidori pulls one sliver of leathery skin free with a splat. An atrocious shriek rings over the storm as it struggles with its own body, then another shriek and the left pillar continues to stretch, knobby blunt end of its shoulder blade shooting high, ripping itself full of gaping holes in its endeavor. 

Banner was more accurate than he realized.

“Orion!” Shuri’s voice is sharp, “Bring it down! Do not let it into the air! Use your cannon!”

You’re frozen stuck, eyes squeezed shut at the sight of stretched membrane. A terrified whimper and a puncture of nauseating memory nicks at Steve’s concentration.

No! Levels spike on the HUD screen. Fuck! Steve is caught in the undertow and the rig jams beneath both your feet.

“Orion! You’re out of alignment! Orion!”

She’s here.

Natasha’s bright hair is unfurling all around you. There’s deafening splintering when the incisors of her killer punctures through Decima’s chest and both her legs. Metal grinds against metal, the sound searing itself into your eardrums—your brain—your heart. Wings are beating—wild flaps of rubbery sails against the downpour—muffling screams from Decima’s cockpit.

It’s as real and cruel as the last time you saw it.

Bi Fang, like the bird from Chinese mythology, beaked and blessed with flight to make up for its one leg. Bi Fang the Kaiju was legless, and Natasha was convinced Decima could take it. You had no reason to think otherwise; five previous kills cultivated your confidence. You had her by your side, after all. Two orphans with something to prove, proving it again and again.

Wings and fangs? No legs? Six is an auspicious number. The smirk on her lips blooms fiercely. You’re laughing when Decima hovers above the water. Alright, Tasha. Six drops.

A tremendous splash and you touch ground.

She grins. Six kills.

Polidori has one limb fully flexed, fragmenting pixels bending into the shape of Bi Fang. Natasha is bending, too, lowering her center of gravity. Her elbows are against her ribs, fists set. This is gonna hurt. Come to–

Come to me! To me!

He’s stepping in ink. In water. And then metal is beneath Steve’s feet. There are flashes of rain, lightning, and he recognizes her dead center of the storm. 

Natasha Romanoff, vibrant and joyful through the glass of her helmet. You, next to her, reciprocal smile on your face stuck in hysteria, tears streaming down your cheeks in wide stripes. Steve’s hand is reaching but going nowhere. Echoes overlap of crying and shouting. Yours. Hers. His.

Come to me!

He yells again, but you’ve chased the rabbit too far.

Come to me!

He’s trying his hardest, stretching himself like ropes to bridge the fissure. He feels your fear, your hurt, and for a flash, it eats him whole, spits him out a twisted-up way and his brain screams for Bucky.

Bucky is doing the same through the control room, reaching his will out to Steve, praying their connection still holds despite their distance. He’s yelling for you, too.

“Steve! Get the hell out of it! Steve, you need to get her!”

The ripping of his red left arm loops three times in quick succession before Steve can temper it down. Bucky is howling, crying, sobbing. Steve is breathless, stuck, rattled, steeling his entire body to witness the amputation for another inescapable replay until your frozen body smears across his blurry field of vision. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

Bright whites burst behind his eyelids. Flares of panicked emotion. Bucky. Natasha. Him. You. An endless rippling chain of trauma lashing Orion open.

“Come on— Steve! It’s moving! Steve!”

“Buck! I’m— I’m okay! Just— need a second.” Steve scrambles for his sanity, latching on, knowing Bucky’s well— alive and not hurt. Shuri begins urging him to get up faster. Polidori’s moving slow, but it is moving, and it needs to be put down now. She’s calling for the Odinsons—Colossus, be prepared to walk-

The metal under Steve’s feet slides away. Water returns, ink flowering behind it—molasses and murky. His steps are unsteady, chest heaving as he advances through a field of speckled glimmers like fireflies at dusk. Each flicker reflects an agonized shard of your distorted face.

A flit of your voice rushes behind his head. Steve whips around and tries to catch it but no such luck.

Again, to the right, then gone each time he spins. It builds and builds until he feels half-deaf, frantically invoking your name into the ether where it becomes lost in dissonance. Butterfly-winged iridescence scatter and plummet, shrieking, shrieking, shrieking. 

Then, nothing.

He finds you crumpled over on Anchorage’s shore.

Decima reaches sand as a crackling mess of Jaeger parts, chest piece ripped clean off the right side. You clamber out of the rig, hugging Natasha’s mutilated corpse. Your drivesuit is split open down to the hip, the glass of your helmet fractured and splattered with blood from your nose– still dripping.

He shakes his head, attempting to free himself of your scarred clutch. You had been hooked into the rawest fear—linked up when she died— gored and broken with half your brain believing it is also dead. Chills race up his spine and breaks him out in a cold sweat. He feels strangled to his very soul.

Then, seizures take you—the casualties of solo piloting—the neural damage come to collect. Nobody know how many miles you steered Decima alone and truthfully, it should have killed you.

Your eyes roll up to the sky, body convulsing before slamming into the ground like a rag doll, shaky fingers still reaching for your co-pilot. Steve shudders quietly, flinching with each impact. A final wail and everything slackens to a dull vibration. You quiver on the sand, howling and crying for Nat.

Polidori’s right wing casts itself loose, jaw opening wide. Steve’s on a time limit; there are only a few grains left in the hourglass. He croaks your name.

A second of recognition triggers from behind the curtain and it’s miraculously enough for you to see him. It’s enough.

He begs. He begs on his goddamn knees, crawling to you.

Look at me, only at me. Come back to me, please. Please. Please.

Steve gathers you in his arms, both of you trembling and afraid. Your suit heals itself, pieces stitching back together, blood little by little disappearing from your nose. Natasha shimmers away. 

He presses the glass of your helmets together. He needs to get closer.

Steve? S-Ste-Steve—Steve?

You’re still crying. You’re breaking his heart.

Yes. I’m here.

St-Steve, what d-d-do I do?

You’ve got me now. I’m here with you. You understand?

He can see you struggling to escape, consciousness clawing with nails and teeth to return to the present.

Yeah. Y-Yes.

We have to move.

Steve—Steve—everything hurts.

Just for now. Just for a little bit—but I’ll make it better, I promise. Nothing’s gonna hurt you again. Will you hold on to me? Do you trust me?

Y-yes… Yes, yes. I trust you.

The rig lurches back to life beneath his feet. Jittery and creaking with strain, Orion rocks forward with a rumble. The drift stirs once more, noise giving way to silence.

Steve’s vision clears. You’re back in the present, precariously grounding your strength inside his guidance. You raise an unsteady left arm. He powers it up. Energy surges through the cockpit, tremors running up your side as it charges. Your hand splays. Steve’s palm takes aim.

Activating plasma cannon.

The beam pierces Polidori’s shoulder and its roar chases a simultaneous thunderclap.

A crack of lightning flushes the sky purple. Orion’s right arm lifts high above its head and slams back down, the glowing hot edge of its shield cleaving through Polidori’s skull.

-

Bucky’s grip on the control room’s railing feels like it could warp metal. Wilson is on his right, other pilots in a row next to him. All is silent.

Through the relay of Orion’s camera, Polidori’s writhes one final time. A death throe—pathetic trilling drowned by rising water, falling into deep darkness. Overhead, Kaiju clean-up advances, jet engines rumbling behind an ashy horizon. Orion’s shield retreats to its side with a wet, sloppy sound. The handshake pulled through. Steve got to you.

Abruptly, the room vibrates with the shouting of about fifty voices. Sam is banging on the railing, strong fists rocking the entire length of it, roaring with glee. The others are even wilder— shoving each other in triumph.

Bucky tunes it out, waiting for quieter confirmation. He can hear the both of you despite the racket. Steve’s steady pants, cut with throaty relief—this one, Bucky’s familiar with. Your small, weak sobs strangled with tears—this one, he’s quickly learned, but knows now in his bones.

“Twelve drops,” you announce hoarsely. Raw. “B-Buck?”

He grins, dazed comfort rushing over, your voice chasing the torture away.

“Twelve kills, sweetheart,” Bucky says, “You did it.”

-

The raucous celebration in the Shatterdome simmers down around four, sunrise just a couple hours behind the horizon. Unruliness had broken out, triggering a party that lasted from the time Orion got picked up ‘til now, and still there’s chatter in the common room. 

It’s normal; Anchorage celebrated too after most kills—as long as no one died.

You’re freshly showered and changed, barefoot as you patter it back to your room. Voices from other beds are lowered as you pass—friends taking banter back to private spaces, couples pressed up against each other. All standard-issue revelry to commemorate the endurance of life.  

It’s how these things go. Violence on a massive scale, humanity threatened with extinction—the people closest to death feel it the most. When routine becomes monotony, it’s good once in a while to be stimulated again.

Damn near two thousand people in close quarters—Rangers in perfect form, friendships assembled on the foundation of sharing an exceptionally singular purpose. Even Pentecost in all his grave formalities couldn’t ward off human nature. Plenty of pilots hooked up with each other and other staff in Anchorage and no one cared as long as it didn’t muck anything up on the job. At least the marshal could control that; mishandle your personal relationships and you’d be off the docket for your next drop.

Sex is biology. Desire is human.

It’s hard for you to feel human this morning. Exhausted by the fight and the prior evening—awake now for over 24 hours, you broke away from the commons as soon as you arrived, spending an hour simply breathing in the steam, the habit achingly comforting. Your chest still feels tight, heart bloated with invasive flashbacks.

You used to decompress with Natasha. A few drinks, tales from the cockpit, shadowboxing and putting on a show, glad to be in the company of friends— to be back safely with each other. Then you’d scatter with the crowd, meet her in the showers, and help her wash her hair in silence. Nothing but the trickle of shampoo down the drain.

She’d cry, sometimes. Catharsis, mostly. Curled up in your arms, the both of you cozy in pajamas on the floor. Then off to bed where she’d climb under your sheets, falling sleep with her head on your shoulder, your fingers in her hair.

A love unspoken. A home in the shape of a twin-sized bottom bunk. Cramped and narrow. Too brief.

You sigh. Everything hurts.

A few rooms away from yours, Steve’s door is open just enough for a line of orange to escape. You know he’s there, waiting patiently as he has been. You went near catatonic on the way back, lying down in the cockpit, no longer needing to be hooked up. You shed the armor, holed yourself into the corner of Orion’s hull, and said nothing when he sat by your side.

Walking in front of the light, he places himself in the entrance way until he’s looking at you. His face is a gentle blue shadow, resplendent halo glorious behind his head. He’s dressed in soft pants and a t-shirt damp at the collar. A droplet of water runs down his neck.

It emerges like an orchestral arrangement. Leisurely notes creep into your ears—a tune you’ve always known. Plucks of strings, escalating windchimes. It echoes, the trails on his skin, his measured breath, his percussive voice layering and pleating until there are dozens of him.

Look at me. Come to me. I need you.

You feel it all at once. A knotted, chaotic tempest. Hesitation. Confusion. Ache. Bucky. Him. You. Your eyes lock with his. A mistake and a revelation.

Steve holds out a steady hand. You take a step, terrified, pulled into his overwhelming atmosphere like magnets, your bodies humming a secret frequency, purring for each other.

The drift opened everything up, but the battle tore it all out. The both of you are laid bare, everything else fallen away.

Nothing’s gonna hurt you again. You’ve got me now, you understand?

You reach the shadow he casts, eclipsed entirely by his bulk. Steve threads his fingers between yours and with a tug, you surrender your worries to him.

He’s kissing you before the door is entirely shut and latched. He fumbles for the locks, wraps his arms around your waist. A click and a clatter. He moans into your mouth. 

You exhale from deep inside your chest. He inhales like it’s all the oxygen he needs.

Your hands move to one place, his hands to another. Before your bodies can savor it, the both of you have roamed on, reading each other’s minds, knowing what’s next.

More. More. More.

It’s impatient and fast and Steve picks you up with ease. You forget yourself, forget the world outside the room, outside the three-by-three tile area of where he’s got you lifted, legs wrapped tight around his hips. Fingers dive into the back of your pants, squeezing, up your shirt, pawing at your breasts.

His groans blow heat onto your neck. You arch away, giving him more skin to brand kisses onto. He nips at your throat, light, then again, rough. His voice is raw and thick, husky little clouds making their home on your body.

Gentle sucking on your bottom lip follow each kiss. He takes you to bed, dropping himself onto the mattress, you on top of him. He’s been in your head; he knows what you like. Knows where you want him. Your voice is getting higher, sounds quick and shallow.

Steve guides you with one hand on your hip and the other beneath your thigh, soft pajama bottoms pressing against his. He groans each time you rock forward, needy for more contact against his groin.

You’ve been in his head, too. He likes feeling hands in his hair, so you grip his flaxen strands. He likes hearing, so you make a little more noise. He likes seeing his partner helpless because of him, losing all control, falling apart for him.

So you do. 

Pleasure rushes from the top of your head to the tip of your toes, his name burning in your throat. It’s an incredible shock and you’re spellbound, enraptured by him drinking in the parting of your swollen lips. Quickly, he places you on his thigh, enormous and strong, needing a better position to see— to feel you on him. Hungry attention, eager eyes, pleading like a mother tongue.

“Keep coming for me. Just like this— don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

The shamelessness of it—your underwear soaked to your pants. The fever of it—his body like a fire, low, husky begging just from watching lighting up your spine. It’s extraordinary adrenaline— the heightened and profound connection of knowing one another in every way—as if you were made for each other.

Animal instinct liberated from human sentience. Desire pursuing release. Two bodies colliding and igniting.

You can’t stop the next cresting wave, crying out again.

Steve pushes you on his leg repeatedly, back and forth, solid and firm between your thighs even as you shudder and whimper, telling him it’s too much— you’re too sensitive. He kisses your neck, jaw, chin, cheek. He doesn’t stop moving.

“Hold on to me.”

A bead of sweat collects on the dip of your cupid’s bow. He looks at how sweetly your skin shimmers as you shiver, how your pupils are blown wide, how you look so perfect to him. He presses his forehead to yours, looks into your eyes like the way he did in the drift.

You reach for him and rub in quick strokes, fumbling when he rocks you back, gripping when he rocks you forward. Parted lips hover, “One more time for me—ah, please,” he begs, “Before I do.”

But he’s too late and too heated. Steve makes a mess of his sleeping pants, taken over the edge by how you feel without hardly feeling you at all. He buries a groan into your shoulder, riding it out with indelicate thrusts into your palm.

“Oh,” he murmurs, “Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.”

He’s blush pink and beautiful when he remembers himself again, rubbing his cheek against yours. He knows what you’re thinking— the realization in the comedown, the leaching fear of what could have been a mistake. But it isn’t, and Steve remains faithful to your body.

“Stay. I’m sorry—for hurting you. I’ll make it better.” Velvet kisses to your lips and you shake your head, apologies no longer necessary.

A whisper of his name like it’s the most radiant word. You cling to him, kissing him, answering only to him.

-

In the afternoon when Steve is still sleeping, you retreat to your room. You pause at the sight of Bucky already on your bed, caught in the bleary focus of his gaze. With lashes soaked wet, his throat constricts around a forceful swallow.

“Hey,” he says, voice breaking on the syllable. He pats the space next to him and you come sit, turning your knees until they knock into his.

“Bucky…”

He laughs like you’ve told a joke, like the sound of his own name is a funny thing escaping your mouth. “Hoped I could catch you last night, before—” he laughs again. “—Before bed. Just wanted to—I guess I don’t know what I wanted to do.”

The hurt resurfaces. You find him through the rose-dappled lenses of Steve’s eyes. Those warm summers with two boys running wild, effortlessly devoted to each other. Your heart swells like you’re there, gazing at russet locks flying in the wind. Years and years between them—Bucky’s smile, lopsided and carefree. Steve’s gaze, illuminating Bucky in every memory.

“Bucky,” you say again, so wonderfully soft, he thinks, even as his chest feels stretched to bursting. “You love him.”

He places his temple on your shoulder, face hidden by the long strands of his hair.

“You’ve been in his head. He’s easy to love.”

“Yes,” you agree, touching his bangs, pushing them over his ear, streaking four affectionate lines through, “He is.”

“So are you.”

Bucky turns into your palm, smiling openly, like the truth is the simplest thing in the world.

[apsbicepstraining]

44 Girls Reveal The Most Insane Thing A Guy Ever Did To Impress Them

Found on AskReddit .

1. He gave me a little chest of chocolates, but he’d already eaten half of them.

When “were in” dating my husband bought a bit casket of chocolates’ for me ,’ but had already eaten half of them because he wanted to try them, more. I still make fun of him for it.

2. He showed me his tattoos of various My Little Ponies.

Showing me his tattoos of various types of My Little Ponies. He was so excited to show me, he reckoned I was going to be blown away by it.

3. He told me he hung up my video so he could see it while in the rain and he was masturbating to it.

I met a guy via online dating. We went to dinner. He was telling me how much he loved one of my photos on the website. So much, he said, he hung it up so he could see it while in the shower and he was masturbating to it.

4. Why? Is your nose bigger than your dick?

I formerly had a guy content me and his opening line was,’ Hey, wanna sit on my appearance ?’

I responded with’ Why? Is your nose bigger than your dick ?’

He blocked me after that.

5. He called me his number-one girlout of seven.

I dated this person for like, a week in junior college. Still very much in the’ getting to know you’ stagecoach. It grew really obvious early on he was one of those guys that try to put you down so you’ll think you’re lucky he’s even talking to you but I’d exactly react every subtle revile with a ‘… K.’

We were hanging out and he says something like,’ You’re my number-one girl.’ Kind of a weird happening to say at this item in the game, all right. I jokingly said,’ Oh yeah? Out of how many ?’ He realise this big show out of counting on his paws and pretends to try remembering all the figures in his ring-binders full of women before he says,’ Seven .’ I was like,’ Haha, OK, well, I don’t think I could compete with seven. Good luck with that ,’ and stopped taking his calls.

6. He told me he masturbated to me but had never been able to finish.

He told me he masturbated to me. And then when I was awkward he was attempting to make it better by tell people he had never been able to finish to me.

7. He told me he could rend a phone book in half, so I demonstrated him one.

One time a person I worked with is seeking to impress me by telling me he could slam a phone book in half with ease. On my production of a phone book, he proceeded to repeatedly attempt to rend it in half to the point of shaking and sweating. He couldn’t. The second-hand humiliation was real.

8. He face-lift his shirt up and said,’ Look how little person hair I have.’

I had a guy come up to me at a prohibit, promote his shirt up, and say,’ Look how little mas “hairs-breadth” I have .’ Granted he was super-drunk, but I simply walked away.

9. He gave me a frozen, severed alligator foot.

I was a project manager at a consulting company. We hired a very odd fellow by the call of Rod. One epoch Rod and I were discussing a neighbourhood Asian supermarket. This is possibly the second largest season we ever communicated; he did not end up working at the company for very long after.

Me:’ Yeah, they have a lot peculiar nonsense there !’ Rod:’ They even have alligator meat for sale .’ Me, in “the worlds largest” disinterested tone:’ Yeah, how about that .’ Intention of conversation.

Weeks go by, and Rod announces he will be leaving the company to start a new statu. He comes by my role to say goodbye. I detect he’s holding something in a plastic crate behind his back, trying to hold back a grin.

Me:’ Best of fluke, being .’ Rod:’ I got you a going-away present .’ I think this is odd, so I say,’ But I’m not leaving.’

Rod sides me whatever is wrapped in the plastic purse. I start to wonder if it’s something “hes having” removed from his body. I unravel the plastic and observe a fishy stink. It’s a severed, frozen alligator foot, with claws still in skill. From the Asian Supermarket.

Rod:’ Watch! You didn’t believe me when I said they had alligator meat !’

tl ;d r Guy once gave me a frozen, severed alligator foot.

10. Two messages: dick pics.

Two statements: dick pics.

11. A person carved my refer into his arm once.

A guy engraved my name into his arm formerly. I don’t have a very short name.

12.’ Your look is like a tomatothe surface is all smooth and soft. Can I stroke your scalp ?’

1)’ You are so beautiful. Your look is like a tomatothe scalp is all smooth and soft. Can I stroke your scalp? No? Oh, well can I decorate you then? I want to give you a camera so you can take photos of yourself and see how beautiful you are.’ Random guy on a bus.

2) Set up on a year formerly. Date arrives two hours late( don’t ask me why I was still hanging around ), follows to tell me he needs to buy some new jeans. We go to a storage, he tries on the jeans and ends he likes them. We queue. At the checkout he appears over at me and says,’ Oh shit, I’ve forgotten my wallet in the car. Would you thoughts ?’

I paid.

3)’ Your face is round like a football’said whilst drunk off his look and scaling a bridge( over not-so-troubled irrigate ).

13. He said,’ Mmm, your blood is dessert’ and went on to tell me it was the sweetest he’d ever tasted.

I was in an art class with a guy and “were in” doing linocut printmaking. You have to use that is something that sharp-witted implement to carve your likenes and my teacher reminded us daily to keep our hands out of the mode. Of direction, I managed to gouge my digits. This person seizure my hands and stays my hemorrhaging fingers in his mouth. After he released me, he said,’ Mmm, your blood is sweetened’ and went on to tell me it was the sweetest he’d ever tasted.

14. He formerly transported me a video of him ejaculating and pointing out how copious it was.

This guy formerly communicated me a video of him ejecting and pointing out how voluminous it was. We were taking a fitness class together and I’d never even talked to him much.

15. I precisely gazed at him as one would stare at a baby who simply shit on the rug.

We were in the middle of the club dance flooring and he simply walked up to me, pulled out his telephone, and showed me the video from his Facebook of him doing a leg press in a gym. I precisely stared at him as one would stare at a domesticated who merely shit on the rug.

16. He offered me half-price on weed if I had fornication with him.

‘Sooo…I can give you this at half-price if you want to stay over.’

I backed out of the room laughing. No, Tim, I’m fine with compensating full toll for a quarter-oz. of gras. I truly don’t want hepatitis.

17. He just takes his dick out and starts jackin’ it.

Oh man, my wife’s best friend has a good one, but I don’t know if she is on here and it’s pretty difficult to not mention.

So she goes on this date with a dude who looked like a pattern. Ravishing would be the word I may have heard.

Anyway, they go on this time. They get in her gondola, and he just takes his dick out and starts jackin’ it. She’s like,’ What the fuck are you doing ?’ and he simply looks at her like a magician trying to’ wow’ her. She doesn’t make regardless, though, and she’s pretty pissed. He goes disturbed and emits this phenomenal word,’ Pfftyou’re just like the others.’

Which is necessary that he has done this before! There is some good-looking buster who just goes on years and jacks off in their auto and thinks why no one likes him.

18. His military dog tag said’ Established in China.’

This guy is seeking to impress me at a table by telling me how he worked in the military forces. He had that various kinds of braggy outlook that makes people uncomfortable. Telling me how he’s trained to kill and knows how to use SO numerous artilleries, and fly this and drive that, and knows hand-to-hand duel. I symbolize I don’t know anyone in the military, so “whos” I to say that some people didn’t behave like that? But it seemed so showy. He then’ accidentally’ drooped his dog tags on the field. Which also seemed strange. Who accompanies their dog tag to a table, and too aren’t you supposed to wear them? Anyways, I was quicker to picking them up, he made a big deal about me looking at them, saying I wasn’t even supposed to touch them, as I was siding them back it clearly said’ Established in China’ stomped on the back.

19. He told me that he didn’t ordinarily year’ Russian chicks'( I have blonde “hairs-breadth”, so OBVIOUSLY I’m Russian ).

After producing me all the types of soda from the school vending machine( despite being told numerous periods that I can’t drink soda ), he pulled up a sung on his phone and explosion it on full volume. He told me to seeing how he understood the Japanese lyrics and the romance they held because love was a language pronounced through raw spirits and could be understood by all. And of course, how the chant represented our charity. It was pretty cringeworthy.

Oh yeah, and he also told me that he didn’t normally date’ Russian chicks'( I have blonde fuzz, so OBVIOUSLY I’m Russian) because they are so strong and tough that they devastate his manliness. But I was’ an aesthetic goddess’ who could defined him free.

These are just the highlights. He did this substance every day on the bus for a whole semester.

20. He read entire sheets from a journal written in Latin over a dinner time in a thick-skulled Italian accent.

Reading entire sheets from a journal writes to Latin over a dinner appointment in a dense Italian accent because’ that’s the way it most probably voiced ,’ without translating anything, until I was about ready to fall asleep. I wrote off all classics majors after that date.

21. He asked me to his prom when I was 10 by buying me a sugar bar.

Had a person ask me to his prom. I was 10 and had never assembled him before. He asked me by buying me a sugar prohibit while I was waiting for my mama to check out in the grocery store.

I was creeped-out. My mama thought it was hilarious.

22. I told him over and over again that I don’t like my hoofs stroked, but he wouldn’t relent.

On our first appointment, about ten minutes in he told me that everyone always said that he afforded the best paw rubs and asked if I wanted one. I told him over and over again that I don’t like my hoofs touched, but he wouldn’t relent, so I finally said fine. Cue what is like him literally trying to break my paw. Purposed up with bruises.

23. One day he brought in his daughter( who was probably 6) and established me to the daughter as’ mommy.’

When I was 18 waiting tables a much older man used to come in and sit in my division a lot. One daylight he brought in his daughter( who was probably 6) and interposed me to the daughter as’ mummy .’ He told me he knew I was the’ commitment sort’ and told you he said I was worth’ the best thought he had to offer .’ It was cringeworthy.

He had been coming in for a few months before it got to this stage of what-the-fuckness. When it happened I freaked out in the kitchen about it but deterred my cool in front of him and didn’t say anything about it. Although the next time he came in he delivered his mother and introduced me as his lover and I lost it. I grabbed my director and he knocked him out. The creepiest constituent about it was that he worked in a medical federal prison. I never read him again, although I did run into his mother at Walmart about a month ago and it was very uncomfortable.

24. He would tell me tales of generally being a dick and follows up on with’ I know I’m an asshole, but at the least I’m honest, right?

It’s a tie between the guy that would tell me storeys of generally being a dick and following up with’ I know I’m an asshole, but at least I’m honest, right ?’ and the guy that told me the story of how he drove the only girl out of his WoW guild by going everyone to refer to her as a talking vagina( but she totally deserved it because she had a high-pitched expres ).

25. He revved his instrument and proceeded to take a sharp turn too fast and trenched his bike.

I was walking with got a couple of my girlfriends when a guy on a motorcycle transferred us. As he drove by, he revved his locomotive and proceeded to take a sharp turn too fast and trenched his bike.

He took off his helmet as he countenanced up and touched himself off, picked up his motorcycle, then he put his helmet back on. Merely he tried to set his helmet on downward at first.

My friends and I are not mean-spirited, this is why we managed to keep a straight face until he drove away, then we tittered our fannies off. Poor guy.

26. He came by every day to ask if I was’ legal’ yet.

I was 14 and working at a coffee stand on an infantry basi. A soldier came in and started making on me , not realizing how age-old I was. I told him my age and expected that he would give me an awkward apology and walk away … Instead, he told me that I was lying. It took some of my regulars coming in and persuading him that I was really 14. Instead of awkwardly rationalizing and “re going away”, he came by every day be interested to know whether I was’ legal’ yet.

Let me say to you , nothing says flattering quite like a creepy older guy who plans to mostly stalk you at work for the next four years until you transform 18…

27. He texted me every hour or so every day for almost a month.

He texted me every hour or so every day for almost a month, then asked me out over text. When I rejected he said something along the lines of,’ Well it doesn’t have to be a” year date ,” we could go as sidekicks and see if anything happens. Assure, I can be accommodating !’

-.-

After another month of this I made a Google expression history and told him I changed my number. It’s been almost 3 years and I get texts/ phone calls on that number.

Anyways he terminated up dating your best friend, flirted with me perpetually, cheated on her with multiple daughters( not me ), the two is broken, he asked me out again, then nearly got arrested for threatening to beat up a few girls. But hey, he’s super adjust!

28. Cue me walking away and trying unsuccessfully not to laugh.

Let me talk to you about Heelys guy!

I’m at my university, waiting for the crosswalk to change, when out of the corner of my seeing I observe this guy marching towards my site from the other side of the intersection. He has a skater helmet on( not clipped, simply kind of hanging there 2cool4safety) and is skidding on, of course, Heelys. He stops about a paw from me and just…stares.

Me: Umm, can I help you?

HG: Yeah, you can stop raping me with your eyes.

Me: alrighty then.

HG: Also you can give me your number.

Me: Yeah, that’s not happening.

At this detail the crosswalk signal changed and I started to walk away. HG, who had just been staring at me( red-eyed, most definitely high out of his attention at noon on a Monday ), then grabs the back of a scooter and is heelying in all the regions of the intersection to follow me . When he gets to the end of the intersection, he tells proceed of the mope( as the motorist is screeching at him) and And he falls on the dirt. And his helmet wheels away because it wasn’t clipped on.

Me: Are you okay?

HG: NO CAUSE YOU REJECTED ME.

Cue me walking away and trying unsuccessfully not to laugh.

29. He fell with an inaudible howl in between the two buildings( about 12 -1 5 hoofs ).

In college, I lived in an apartment building that was extremely close to an old-fashioned original building on the pulley-block where my friend lived. He and I were just sidekicks at the time, but I knew he was interested. I had just been out riding my bike and was moving my bicycle up the steps to the stoop in front of our doorway. There was about a 7-10 paw crack between our slouch and the porch of this old house. Unbeknownst to me, your best friend was( in his thinker) cleverly trying to sneak up on me, Spider-Man style by briskly rushing from the hall to our stoop while I went out my keys. Nonetheless, his project disappeared awry, and he fell with an inaudible cry in between the two buildings( about 12 -1 5 hoofs ). I casually penetrated my suite with my bicycle as usual. Two minutes later, I sounds a whack. I consider my friend, battered knees and joints, seeming preferably sheepish. I’m confused and referred, then he tells me what happened, in front of my roommates( all mutual pals ), and we DIE laughing! Poor guy. Of trend, we bandage him up and give him a beer for his bothers. LOL.

30. Catcalled me every day on my jogging route for a week.

Catcalled me every day on my jogging direction for a few weeks. Creepy as fuck. After the second largest or third daylight, I was like,’ I’m not going to let some lout frighten me away from my favorite road !’ So I remained proceeding, but I outlined the line when he actually tried to search me. Now I go in the complete opposite tendency. Pisses me the fuck off.

I are well aware that forestalling the guy was a bad notion because then he could potentially hurt others, and I repent not doing anything. But given my age, prominence, etc. at the time, I wasn’t in any position to physically fight back without endangering myself. I was also afraid of the person following me dwelling/ harming me even more, so I got the fuck away as soon as I could.

31. A guy had a gazette that was fitted with poems about me, sheets of’ I love you’ written over and over.

A guy had a magazine that was filled with poems about me, pages of’ I love you’ written over and over, storeys in excruciating detail of how we’d waste the rest of “peoples lives” together and he even had described pictures of what our children would look like. Every sheet was dated. This gentleman wrote in it EVERY DAY for a year. I had no hypothesi about it until he gave it to me for my birthday.

32.’ Do you feel bad enough for me to give me your numeral ?’

I was working and this teenager that had been hitting on me all day came back and tried to hop onto the gratuities of his skis.( Using his spars to prop himself up ?) Even though the move was supposed to decline my gasps, he altogether gobble shit the noise was unmistakable. I hear a smack-dab, him conveying his sting and then,’ You didn’t see that, right ?… Do you feel bad enough for me to give me your digit ?’

33. Dude draws out the full-size metal rose that he’s piece and welded by himself and decorated up all fancy.

I was dating a person in first-year university( he was a fair fragment older than me) and I mainly discovered him nights and weekends. He was a metalworker and ran long eras, etc.

Things weren’t moving in the direction I wanted them to be going( read: him accepting me as his real girlfriend/ actually officially dating) it spawned a lot of petty arguments.

I dissolved up breaking up with him and going back to his region the next day to get my nonsense. He croaks,’ Oh, I stimulated you this for Valentine’s Day but hadn’t demonstrated it to you’dude plucks out the full-size metal rose that he’s slashed and welded by himself and coated up all fancy.

The breakup has been the case in

Dude panicked and tried to draw out some nostalgic gesticulate after recognizing I was leaving.

I took the rose and I left. It sits on my desk and I look at it every day.

Spoils of war.

34. He counterfeited having a girlfriend.

Faking having a girlfriend. If anything, it shaped me like him even less( which I didn’t think was possible ).

35. For about 10 minutes. I was expiring of second-hand dishonour for him.

I was at a barroom with some pals and a reasonably decent-looking guy begin to chat me up. He starts to talk to me about how smart he is and how he turned down a scientific master’s orientation at[ nearby university] to work at a biotech startup. Interested, I ask about what the startup does, etc. Just being polite and obligating conversation.

It turns out he works at a clinic that does Alzheimer’s disease evaluations…doing intake paperwork. After unsuccessfully trying to change the subject to spare him embarrassment, he asks me what I know about Alzheimer’s.( Of course) before I answer he steamrolls me to say to me in voluminous( mistaken) detail about the disease. For about 10 instants. I was succumbing of second-hand shame for him. He then finally asks what I do…

I’m approximately halfway through a Ph.D. program in which I analyse molecular mechanisms underlying Alzheimer’s disease.

At this level I ask if he wants to leave. He does.

36. I don’t care how quickly, raucous, or how gaudy your car is, you’re fucking annoying.

Any guy that tried to impress me with the type of automobile they drove. I don’t care how fast, raucous, or how flashy your gondola is, you’re fucking riling .”

37.’ I’ve always wanted to have 4 minors. I have 3 now. I’ve always known you are able to give me# 4.’

I had an old high-school acquaintance find me on Facebook and pm me’ I’ve always wanted to have 4 children. I have 3 now. I’ve always known you are able to give me# 4.’

38. After being told,’ Do not talk to me again’ and the three months of no contact, I’m clearly SUPER into him.

By attacking me with texts nonstop and asking me out in “the worlds largest” ridiculous way. He’d never do anything in person, only make awkward small talk, and the second largest we led our separate behaviors I’d get a text asking me to dinner. After becoming it very clear that I did not want to date him( straight up said,’ I am not very interested in dating you “), he’d is an attempt persuasion me that I was flirting with him all the time.

Oh yeah, because clearly I have no thought what my own intentions are and necessitate someone else to explain them to me.

Even after flat-out telling him,’ I am not interested in dating you ,’ he’d question’ But, like, what does that really signify ?’ Oh gee buddy, I necessitate it actually reverberates open-ended. After about a month of him trying to ask me out and me telling him,’ I AM NOT INTERESTED IN DATING YOU ,’ I told him to stop texting me and to not talk to me in class. And he did, until 3 months later. That’s when I get an essay-long text, telling me I’m perfect and’ not forgery like other girls’ and that he hates everybody but he doesn’t hate me and blah blah blah and aims the verse with ‘[ First Name Last Name ], will you do me the honour of being your lover? Or we are in a position only be friends that’s cool very .’ Because after being told,’ Do not talk to me again’ and 3 months of no contact, I’m clearly SUPER into him.

39. He immediately starts talking about how much money he makes, his life’s indulgences, his recent purchases.

Whenever I gratify a person, go on a date with him or exactly have a conversation with him and he immediately starts talking about how much money he makes, his life’s luxuries, his most recent obtains, etc. that to me, is the saddest most annoying happening that person can do and by no means the right way to impress me.

Guys acting like that tells me two things: 1) You think so ambiguous and so superficially of me, that you think that impresses me; 2) You think so little of yourself and your reputation, that you use materialistic components to try and get girls, and that is a terminated TURNOFF.

40. Librathe LION.

I was at a rail once, and a fellow tried hitting on me by questioning,’ What’s your signal ?’ After chuckling, then feeling bad( because he was completely serious ), I answered the question.

‘I’m a Libra.’

‘Ooohhhhh, the LION !’ he exclaimed.

‘No ….. the Scales ….’ I respond.

‘Ah…I’m often better at this. Sorry ,’ was his reply, as I smile and leave with my drink.

41. He told me he was a Saudi prince and offered me a million dollars to have sex with him.

I was a waitress in a restaurant. A Middle Eastern guy was just telling me he was a Saudi prince and offered me a million dollars to have sex with him. I met this is just creepy-crawly, and likely bullshit, therefore I said no.

I still sometimes be interested to know whether he was telling the truth, because honestly if he was, the answer would’ve been,’ Let’s go.’

42. A guy tried to rap for me.

A guy tried to rap for me. I have nothing against rapping and I like rap music, but it was to HIS OWN previously recorded rap that he put on his iPhone.

No music , good-for-nothing. Just him yelling into his telephone. And he didn’t even know the words !! To his own rap !!!

43. He tried to light-footed two cigarettes at once.

My SO tried to light two cigarettes at once on our second date.

The wind stopped snuffing out the kindle. With two cigarettes still in his mouth he said,’ Affecting you one flop at a time.’

His attempt to impress me didn’t work, but I thought he was cute so I remained him.

We no longer smoke.

44. I told him he was likely to go back to DC.

Told me the only intellect he hadn’t asked me out yet was because I seemed like I had a male back at home taking care of me, asked me out regardless, and when I said no, proceeded to tell me that’ if you were living in DC you’d be all over me. I get hundreds of numbers when I was in DC.’

I told him he was likely to go back to DC.

The post 44 Girls Reveal The Most Insane Thing A Guy Ever Did To Impress Them appeared first on apsbicepstraining.com.

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44 Girls Reveal The Most Insane Thing A Guy Ever Did To Impress Them

Found on AskReddit .

1. He gave me a little chest of chocolates, but he’d already eaten half of them.

When “were in” dating my husband bought a bit casket of chocolates’ for me ,’ but had already eaten half of them because he wanted to try them, more. I still make fun of him for it.

2. He showed me his tattoos of various My Little Ponies.

Showing me his tattoos of various types of My Little Ponies. He was so excited to show me, he reckoned I was going to be blown away by it.

3. He told me he hung up my video so he could see it while in the rain and he was masturbating to it.

I met a guy via online dating. We went to dinner. He was telling me how much he loved one of my photos on the website. So much, he said, he hung it up so he could see it while in the shower and he was masturbating to it.

4. Why? Is your nose bigger than your dick?

I formerly had a guy content me and his opening line was,’ Hey, wanna sit on my appearance ?’

I responded with’ Why? Is your nose bigger than your dick ?’

He blocked me after that.

5. He called me his number-one girlout of seven.

I dated this person for like, a week in junior college. Still very much in the’ getting to know you’ stagecoach. It grew really obvious early on he was one of those guys that try to put you down so you’ll think you’re lucky he’s even talking to you but I’d exactly react every subtle revile with a ‘… K.’

We were hanging out and he says something like,’ You’re my number-one girl.’ Kind of a weird happening to say at this item in the game, all right. I jokingly said,’ Oh yeah? Out of how many ?’ He realise this big show out of counting on his paws and pretends to try remembering all the figures in his ring-binders full of women before he says,’ Seven .’ I was like,’ Haha, OK, well, I don’t think I could compete with seven. Good luck with that ,’ and stopped taking his calls.

6. He told me he masturbated to me but had never been able to finish.

He told me he masturbated to me. And then when I was awkward he was attempting to make it better by tell people he had never been able to finish to me.

7. He told me he could rend a phone book in half, so I demonstrated him one.

One time a person I worked with is seeking to impress me by telling me he could slam a phone book in half with ease. On my production of a phone book, he proceeded to repeatedly attempt to rend it in half to the point of shaking and sweating. He couldn’t. The second-hand humiliation was real.

8. He face-lift his shirt up and said,’ Look how little person hair I have.’

I had a guy come up to me at a prohibit, promote his shirt up, and say,’ Look how little mas “hairs-breadth” I have .’ Granted he was super-drunk, but I simply walked away.

9. He gave me a frozen, severed alligator foot.

I was a project manager at a consulting company. We hired a very odd fellow by the call of Rod. One epoch Rod and I were discussing a neighbourhood Asian supermarket. This is possibly the second largest season we ever communicated; he did not end up working at the company for very long after.

Me:’ Yeah, they have a lot peculiar nonsense there !’ Rod:’ They even have alligator meat for sale .’ Me, in “the worlds largest” disinterested tone:’ Yeah, how about that .’ Intention of conversation.

Weeks go by, and Rod announces he will be leaving the company to start a new statu. He comes by my role to say goodbye. I detect he’s holding something in a plastic crate behind his back, trying to hold back a grin.

Me:’ Best of fluke, being .’ Rod:’ I got you a going-away present .’ I think this is odd, so I say,’ But I’m not leaving.’

Rod sides me whatever is wrapped in the plastic purse. I start to wonder if it’s something “hes having” removed from his body. I unravel the plastic and observe a fishy stink. It’s a severed, frozen alligator foot, with claws still in skill. From the Asian Supermarket.

Rod:’ Watch! You didn’t believe me when I said they had alligator meat !’

tl ;d r Guy once gave me a frozen, severed alligator foot.

10. Two messages: dick pics.

Two statements: dick pics.

11. A person carved my refer into his arm once.

A guy engraved my name into his arm formerly. I don’t have a very short name.

12.’ Your look is like a tomatothe surface is all smooth and soft. Can I stroke your scalp ?’

1)’ You are so beautiful. Your look is like a tomatothe scalp is all smooth and soft. Can I stroke your scalp? No? Oh, well can I decorate you then? I want to give you a camera so you can take photos of yourself and see how beautiful you are.’ Random guy on a bus.

2) Set up on a year formerly. Date arrives two hours late( don’t ask me why I was still hanging around ), follows to tell me he needs to buy some new jeans. We go to a storage, he tries on the jeans and ends he likes them. We queue. At the checkout he appears over at me and says,’ Oh shit, I’ve forgotten my wallet in the car. Would you thoughts ?’

I paid.

3)’ Your face is round like a football’said whilst drunk off his look and scaling a bridge( over not-so-troubled irrigate ).

13. He said,’ Mmm, your blood is dessert’ and went on to tell me it was the sweetest he’d ever tasted.

I was in an art class with a guy and “were in” doing linocut printmaking. You have to use that is something that sharp-witted implement to carve your likenes and my teacher reminded us daily to keep our hands out of the mode. Of direction, I managed to gouge my digits. This person seizure my hands and stays my hemorrhaging fingers in his mouth. After he released me, he said,’ Mmm, your blood is sweetened’ and went on to tell me it was the sweetest he’d ever tasted.

14. He formerly transported me a video of him ejaculating and pointing out how copious it was.

This guy formerly communicated me a video of him ejecting and pointing out how voluminous it was. We were taking a fitness class together and I’d never even talked to him much.

15. I precisely gazed at him as one would stare at a baby who simply shit on the rug.

We were in the middle of the club dance flooring and he simply walked up to me, pulled out his telephone, and showed me the video from his Facebook of him doing a leg press in a gym. I precisely stared at him as one would stare at a domesticated who merely shit on the rug.

16. He offered me half-price on weed if I had fornication with him.

‘Sooo…I can give you this at half-price if you want to stay over.’

I backed out of the room laughing. No, Tim, I’m fine with compensating full toll for a quarter-oz. of gras. I truly don’t want hepatitis.

17. He just takes his dick out and starts jackin’ it.

Oh man, my wife’s best friend has a good one, but I don’t know if she is on here and it’s pretty difficult to not mention.

So she goes on this date with a dude who looked like a pattern. Ravishing would be the word I may have heard.

Anyway, they go on this time. They get in her gondola, and he just takes his dick out and starts jackin’ it. She’s like,’ What the fuck are you doing ?’ and he simply looks at her like a magician trying to’ wow’ her. She doesn’t make regardless, though, and she’s pretty pissed. He goes disturbed and emits this phenomenal word,’ Pfftyou’re just like the others.’

Which is necessary that he has done this before! There is some good-looking buster who just goes on years and jacks off in their auto and thinks why no one likes him.

18. His military dog tag said’ Established in China.’

This guy is seeking to impress me at a table by telling me how he worked in the military forces. He had that various kinds of braggy outlook that makes people uncomfortable. Telling me how he’s trained to kill and knows how to use SO numerous artilleries, and fly this and drive that, and knows hand-to-hand duel. I symbolize I don’t know anyone in the military, so “whos” I to say that some people didn’t behave like that? But it seemed so showy. He then’ accidentally’ drooped his dog tags on the field. Which also seemed strange. Who accompanies their dog tag to a table, and too aren’t you supposed to wear them? Anyways, I was quicker to picking them up, he made a big deal about me looking at them, saying I wasn’t even supposed to touch them, as I was siding them back it clearly said’ Established in China’ stomped on the back.

19. He told me that he didn’t ordinarily year’ Russian chicks'( I have blonde “hairs-breadth”, so OBVIOUSLY I’m Russian ).

After producing me all the types of soda from the school vending machine( despite being told numerous periods that I can’t drink soda ), he pulled up a sung on his phone and explosion it on full volume. He told me to seeing how he understood the Japanese lyrics and the romance they held because love was a language pronounced through raw spirits and could be understood by all. And of course, how the chant represented our charity. It was pretty cringeworthy.

Oh yeah, and he also told me that he didn’t normally date’ Russian chicks'( I have blonde fuzz, so OBVIOUSLY I’m Russian) because they are so strong and tough that they devastate his manliness. But I was’ an aesthetic goddess’ who could defined him free.

These are just the highlights. He did this substance every day on the bus for a whole semester.

20. He read entire sheets from a journal written in Latin over a dinner time in a thick-skulled Italian accent.

Reading entire sheets from a journal writes to Latin over a dinner appointment in a dense Italian accent because’ that’s the way it most probably voiced ,’ without translating anything, until I was about ready to fall asleep. I wrote off all classics majors after that date.

21. He asked me to his prom when I was 10 by buying me a sugar bar.

Had a person ask me to his prom. I was 10 and had never assembled him before. He asked me by buying me a sugar prohibit while I was waiting for my mama to check out in the grocery store.

I was creeped-out. My mama thought it was hilarious.

22. I told him over and over again that I don’t like my hoofs stroked, but he wouldn’t relent.

On our first appointment, about ten minutes in he told me that everyone always said that he afforded the best paw rubs and asked if I wanted one. I told him over and over again that I don’t like my hoofs touched, but he wouldn’t relent, so I finally said fine. Cue what is like him literally trying to break my paw. Purposed up with bruises.

23. One day he brought in his daughter( who was probably 6) and established me to the daughter as’ mommy.’

When I was 18 waiting tables a much older man used to come in and sit in my division a lot. One daylight he brought in his daughter( who was probably 6) and interposed me to the daughter as’ mummy .’ He told me he knew I was the’ commitment sort’ and told you he said I was worth’ the best thought he had to offer .’ It was cringeworthy.

He had been coming in for a few months before it got to this stage of what-the-fuckness. When it happened I freaked out in the kitchen about it but deterred my cool in front of him and didn’t say anything about it. Although the next time he came in he delivered his mother and introduced me as his lover and I lost it. I grabbed my director and he knocked him out. The creepiest constituent about it was that he worked in a medical federal prison. I never read him again, although I did run into his mother at Walmart about a month ago and it was very uncomfortable.

24. He would tell me tales of generally being a dick and follows up on with’ I know I’m an asshole, but at the least I’m honest, right?

It’s a tie between the guy that would tell me storeys of generally being a dick and following up with’ I know I’m an asshole, but at least I’m honest, right ?’ and the guy that told me the story of how he drove the only girl out of his WoW guild by going everyone to refer to her as a talking vagina( but she totally deserved it because she had a high-pitched expres ).

25. He revved his instrument and proceeded to take a sharp turn too fast and trenched his bike.

I was walking with got a couple of my girlfriends when a guy on a motorcycle transferred us. As he drove by, he revved his locomotive and proceeded to take a sharp turn too fast and trenched his bike.

He took off his helmet as he countenanced up and touched himself off, picked up his motorcycle, then he put his helmet back on. Merely he tried to set his helmet on downward at first.

My friends and I are not mean-spirited, this is why we managed to keep a straight face until he drove away, then we tittered our fannies off. Poor guy.

26. He came by every day to ask if I was’ legal’ yet.

I was 14 and working at a coffee stand on an infantry basi. A soldier came in and started making on me , not realizing how age-old I was. I told him my age and expected that he would give me an awkward apology and walk away … Instead, he told me that I was lying. It took some of my regulars coming in and persuading him that I was really 14. Instead of awkwardly rationalizing and “re going away”, he came by every day be interested to know whether I was’ legal’ yet.

Let me say to you , nothing says flattering quite like a creepy older guy who plans to mostly stalk you at work for the next four years until you transform 18…

27. He texted me every hour or so every day for almost a month.

He texted me every hour or so every day for almost a month, then asked me out over text. When I rejected he said something along the lines of,’ Well it doesn’t have to be a” year date ,” we could go as sidekicks and see if anything happens. Assure, I can be accommodating !’

-.-

After another month of this I made a Google expression history and told him I changed my number. It’s been almost 3 years and I get texts/ phone calls on that number.

Anyways he terminated up dating your best friend, flirted with me perpetually, cheated on her with multiple daughters( not me ), the two is broken, he asked me out again, then nearly got arrested for threatening to beat up a few girls. But hey, he’s super adjust!

28. Cue me walking away and trying unsuccessfully not to laugh.

Let me talk to you about Heelys guy!

I’m at my university, waiting for the crosswalk to change, when out of the corner of my seeing I observe this guy marching towards my site from the other side of the intersection. He has a skater helmet on( not clipped, simply kind of hanging there 2cool4safety) and is skidding on, of course, Heelys. He stops about a paw from me and just…stares.

Me: Umm, can I help you?

HG: Yeah, you can stop raping me with your eyes.

Me: alrighty then.

HG: Also you can give me your number.

Me: Yeah, that’s not happening.

At this detail the crosswalk signal changed and I started to walk away. HG, who had just been staring at me( red-eyed, most definitely high out of his attention at noon on a Monday ), then grabs the back of a scooter and is heelying in all the regions of the intersection to follow me . When he gets to the end of the intersection, he tells proceed of the mope( as the motorist is screeching at him) and And he falls on the dirt. And his helmet wheels away because it wasn’t clipped on.

Me: Are you okay?

HG: NO CAUSE YOU REJECTED ME.

Cue me walking away and trying unsuccessfully not to laugh.

29. He fell with an inaudible howl in between the two buildings( about 12 -1 5 hoofs ).

In college, I lived in an apartment building that was extremely close to an old-fashioned original building on the pulley-block where my friend lived. He and I were just sidekicks at the time, but I knew he was interested. I had just been out riding my bike and was moving my bicycle up the steps to the stoop in front of our doorway. There was about a 7-10 paw crack between our slouch and the porch of this old house. Unbeknownst to me, your best friend was( in his thinker) cleverly trying to sneak up on me, Spider-Man style by briskly rushing from the hall to our stoop while I went out my keys. Nonetheless, his project disappeared awry, and he fell with an inaudible cry in between the two buildings( about 12 -1 5 hoofs ). I casually penetrated my suite with my bicycle as usual. Two minutes later, I sounds a whack. I consider my friend, battered knees and joints, seeming preferably sheepish. I’m confused and referred, then he tells me what happened, in front of my roommates( all mutual pals ), and we DIE laughing! Poor guy. Of trend, we bandage him up and give him a beer for his bothers. LOL.

30. Catcalled me every day on my jogging route for a week.

Catcalled me every day on my jogging direction for a few weeks. Creepy as fuck. After the second largest or third daylight, I was like,’ I’m not going to let some lout frighten me away from my favorite road !’ So I remained proceeding, but I outlined the line when he actually tried to search me. Now I go in the complete opposite tendency. Pisses me the fuck off.

I are well aware that forestalling the guy was a bad notion because then he could potentially hurt others, and I repent not doing anything. But given my age, prominence, etc. at the time, I wasn’t in any position to physically fight back without endangering myself. I was also afraid of the person following me dwelling/ harming me even more, so I got the fuck away as soon as I could.

31. A guy had a gazette that was fitted with poems about me, sheets of’ I love you’ written over and over.

A guy had a magazine that was filled with poems about me, pages of’ I love you’ written over and over, storeys in excruciating detail of how we’d waste the rest of “peoples lives” together and he even had described pictures of what our children would look like. Every sheet was dated. This gentleman wrote in it EVERY DAY for a year. I had no hypothesi about it until he gave it to me for my birthday.

32.’ Do you feel bad enough for me to give me your numeral ?’

I was working and this teenager that had been hitting on me all day came back and tried to hop onto the gratuities of his skis.( Using his spars to prop himself up ?) Even though the move was supposed to decline my gasps, he altogether gobble shit the noise was unmistakable. I hear a smack-dab, him conveying his sting and then,’ You didn’t see that, right ?… Do you feel bad enough for me to give me your digit ?’

33. Dude draws out the full-size metal rose that he’s piece and welded by himself and decorated up all fancy.

I was dating a person in first-year university( he was a fair fragment older than me) and I mainly discovered him nights and weekends. He was a metalworker and ran long eras, etc.

Things weren’t moving in the direction I wanted them to be going( read: him accepting me as his real girlfriend/ actually officially dating) it spawned a lot of petty arguments.

I dissolved up breaking up with him and going back to his region the next day to get my nonsense. He croaks,’ Oh, I stimulated you this for Valentine’s Day but hadn’t demonstrated it to you’dude plucks out the full-size metal rose that he’s slashed and welded by himself and coated up all fancy.

The breakup has been the case in

Dude panicked and tried to draw out some nostalgic gesticulate after recognizing I was leaving.

I took the rose and I left. It sits on my desk and I look at it every day.

Spoils of war.

34. He counterfeited having a girlfriend.

Faking having a girlfriend. If anything, it shaped me like him even less( which I didn’t think was possible ).

35. For about 10 minutes. I was expiring of second-hand dishonour for him.

I was at a barroom with some pals and a reasonably decent-looking guy begin to chat me up. He starts to talk to me about how smart he is and how he turned down a scientific master’s orientation at[ nearby university] to work at a biotech startup. Interested, I ask about what the startup does, etc. Just being polite and obligating conversation.

It turns out he works at a clinic that does Alzheimer’s disease evaluations…doing intake paperwork. After unsuccessfully trying to change the subject to spare him embarrassment, he asks me what I know about Alzheimer’s.( Of course) before I answer he steamrolls me to say to me in voluminous( mistaken) detail about the disease. For about 10 instants. I was succumbing of second-hand shame for him. He then finally asks what I do…

I’m approximately halfway through a Ph.D. program in which I analyse molecular mechanisms underlying Alzheimer’s disease.

At this level I ask if he wants to leave. He does.

36. I don’t care how quickly, raucous, or how gaudy your car is, you’re fucking annoying.

Any guy that tried to impress me with the type of automobile they drove. I don’t care how fast, raucous, or how flashy your gondola is, you’re fucking riling .”

37.’ I’ve always wanted to have 4 minors. I have 3 now. I’ve always known you are able to give me# 4.’

I had an old high-school acquaintance find me on Facebook and pm me’ I’ve always wanted to have 4 children. I have 3 now. I’ve always known you are able to give me# 4.’

38. After being told,’ Do not talk to me again’ and the three months of no contact, I’m clearly SUPER into him.

By attacking me with texts nonstop and asking me out in “the worlds largest” ridiculous way. He’d never do anything in person, only make awkward small talk, and the second largest we led our separate behaviors I’d get a text asking me to dinner. After becoming it very clear that I did not want to date him( straight up said,’ I am not very interested in dating you “), he’d is an attempt persuasion me that I was flirting with him all the time.

Oh yeah, because clearly I have no thought what my own intentions are and necessitate someone else to explain them to me.

Even after flat-out telling him,’ I am not interested in dating you ,’ he’d question’ But, like, what does that really signify ?’ Oh gee buddy, I necessitate it actually reverberates open-ended. After about a month of him trying to ask me out and me telling him,’ I AM NOT INTERESTED IN DATING YOU ,’ I told him to stop texting me and to not talk to me in class. And he did, until 3 months later. That’s when I get an essay-long text, telling me I’m perfect and’ not forgery like other girls’ and that he hates everybody but he doesn’t hate me and blah blah blah and aims the verse with ‘[ First Name Last Name ], will you do me the honour of being your lover? Or we are in a position only be friends that’s cool very .’ Because after being told,’ Do not talk to me again’ and 3 months of no contact, I’m clearly SUPER into him.

39. He immediately starts talking about how much money he makes, his life’s indulgences, his recent purchases.

Whenever I gratify a person, go on a date with him or exactly have a conversation with him and he immediately starts talking about how much money he makes, his life’s luxuries, his most recent obtains, etc. that to me, is the saddest most annoying happening that person can do and by no means the right way to impress me.

Guys acting like that tells me two things: 1) You think so ambiguous and so superficially of me, that you think that impresses me; 2) You think so little of yourself and your reputation, that you use materialistic components to try and get girls, and that is a terminated TURNOFF.

40. Librathe LION.

I was at a rail once, and a fellow tried hitting on me by questioning,’ What’s your signal ?’ After chuckling, then feeling bad( because he was completely serious ), I answered the question.

‘I’m a Libra.’

‘Ooohhhhh, the LION !’ he exclaimed.

‘No ….. the Scales ….’ I respond.

‘Ah…I’m often better at this. Sorry ,’ was his reply, as I smile and leave with my drink.

41. He told me he was a Saudi prince and offered me a million dollars to have sex with him.

I was a waitress in a restaurant. A Middle Eastern guy was just telling me he was a Saudi prince and offered me a million dollars to have sex with him. I met this is just creepy-crawly, and likely bullshit, therefore I said no.

I still sometimes be interested to know whether he was telling the truth, because honestly if he was, the answer would’ve been,’ Let’s go.’

42. A guy tried to rap for me.

A guy tried to rap for me. I have nothing against rapping and I like rap music, but it was to HIS OWN previously recorded rap that he put on his iPhone.

No music , good-for-nothing. Just him yelling into his telephone. And he didn’t even know the words !! To his own rap !!!

43. He tried to light-footed two cigarettes at once.

My SO tried to light two cigarettes at once on our second date.

The wind stopped snuffing out the kindle. With two cigarettes still in his mouth he said,’ Affecting you one flop at a time.’

His attempt to impress me didn’t work, but I thought he was cute so I remained him.

We no longer smoke.

44. I told him he was likely to go back to DC.

Told me the only intellect he hadn’t asked me out yet was because I seemed like I had a male back at home taking care of me, asked me out regardless, and when I said no, proceeded to tell me that’ if you were living in DC you’d be all over me. I get hundreds of numbers when I was in DC.’

I told him he was likely to go back to DC.

The post 44 Girls Reveal The Most Insane Thing A Guy Ever Did To Impress Them appeared first on apsbicepstraining.com.

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44 Girls Reveal The Most Insane Thing A Guy Ever Did To Impress Them

Found on AskReddit .

1. He gave me a little chest of chocolates, but he’d already eaten half of them.

When “were in” dating my husband bought a bit casket of chocolates’ for me ,’ but had already eaten half of them because he wanted to try them, more. I still make fun of him for it.

2. He showed me his tattoos of various My Little Ponies.

Showing me his tattoos of various types of My Little Ponies. He was so excited to show me, he reckoned I was going to be blown away by it.

3. He told me he hung up my video so he could see it while in the rain and he was masturbating to it.

I met a guy via online dating. We went to dinner. He was telling me how much he loved one of my photos on the website. So much, he said, he hung it up so he could see it while in the shower and he was masturbating to it.

4. Why? Is your nose bigger than your dick?

I formerly had a guy content me and his opening line was,’ Hey, wanna sit on my appearance ?’

I responded with’ Why? Is your nose bigger than your dick ?’

He blocked me after that.

5. He called me his number-one girlout of seven.

I dated this person for like, a week in junior college. Still very much in the’ getting to know you’ stagecoach. It grew really obvious early on he was one of those guys that try to put you down so you’ll think you’re lucky he’s even talking to you but I’d exactly react every subtle revile with a ‘… K.’

We were hanging out and he says something like,’ You’re my number-one girl.’ Kind of a weird happening to say at this item in the game, all right. I jokingly said,’ Oh yeah? Out of how many ?’ He realise this big show out of counting on his paws and pretends to try remembering all the figures in his ring-binders full of women before he says,’ Seven .’ I was like,’ Haha, OK, well, I don’t think I could compete with seven. Good luck with that ,’ and stopped taking his calls.

6. He told me he masturbated to me but had never been able to finish.

He told me he masturbated to me. And then when I was awkward he was attempting to make it better by tell people he had never been able to finish to me.

7. He told me he could rend a phone book in half, so I demonstrated him one.

One time a person I worked with is seeking to impress me by telling me he could slam a phone book in half with ease. On my production of a phone book, he proceeded to repeatedly attempt to rend it in half to the point of shaking and sweating. He couldn’t. The second-hand humiliation was real.

8. He face-lift his shirt up and said,’ Look how little person hair I have.’

I had a guy come up to me at a prohibit, promote his shirt up, and say,’ Look how little mas “hairs-breadth” I have .’ Granted he was super-drunk, but I simply walked away.

9. He gave me a frozen, severed alligator foot.

I was a project manager at a consulting company. We hired a very odd fellow by the call of Rod. One epoch Rod and I were discussing a neighbourhood Asian supermarket. This is possibly the second largest season we ever communicated; he did not end up working at the company for very long after.

Me:’ Yeah, they have a lot peculiar nonsense there !’ Rod:’ They even have alligator meat for sale .’ Me, in “the worlds largest” disinterested tone:’ Yeah, how about that .’ Intention of conversation.

Weeks go by, and Rod announces he will be leaving the company to start a new statu. He comes by my role to say goodbye. I detect he’s holding something in a plastic crate behind his back, trying to hold back a grin.

Me:’ Best of fluke, being .’ Rod:’ I got you a going-away present .’ I think this is odd, so I say,’ But I’m not leaving.’

Rod sides me whatever is wrapped in the plastic purse. I start to wonder if it’s something “hes having” removed from his body. I unravel the plastic and observe a fishy stink. It’s a severed, frozen alligator foot, with claws still in skill. From the Asian Supermarket.

Rod:’ Watch! You didn’t believe me when I said they had alligator meat !’

tl ;d r Guy once gave me a frozen, severed alligator foot.

10. Two messages: dick pics.

Two statements: dick pics.

11. A person carved my refer into his arm once.

A guy engraved my name into his arm formerly. I don’t have a very short name.

12.’ Your look is like a tomatothe surface is all smooth and soft. Can I stroke your scalp ?’

1)’ You are so beautiful. Your look is like a tomatothe scalp is all smooth and soft. Can I stroke your scalp? No? Oh, well can I decorate you then? I want to give you a camera so you can take photos of yourself and see how beautiful you are.’ Random guy on a bus.

2) Set up on a year formerly. Date arrives two hours late( don’t ask me why I was still hanging around ), follows to tell me he needs to buy some new jeans. We go to a storage, he tries on the jeans and ends he likes them. We queue. At the checkout he appears over at me and says,’ Oh shit, I’ve forgotten my wallet in the car. Would you thoughts ?’

I paid.

3)’ Your face is round like a football’said whilst drunk off his look and scaling a bridge( over not-so-troubled irrigate ).

13. He said,’ Mmm, your blood is dessert’ and went on to tell me it was the sweetest he’d ever tasted.

I was in an art class with a guy and “were in” doing linocut printmaking. You have to use that is something that sharp-witted implement to carve your likenes and my teacher reminded us daily to keep our hands out of the mode. Of direction, I managed to gouge my digits. This person seizure my hands and stays my hemorrhaging fingers in his mouth. After he released me, he said,’ Mmm, your blood is sweetened’ and went on to tell me it was the sweetest he’d ever tasted.

14. He formerly transported me a video of him ejaculating and pointing out how copious it was.

This guy formerly communicated me a video of him ejecting and pointing out how voluminous it was. We were taking a fitness class together and I’d never even talked to him much.

15. I precisely gazed at him as one would stare at a baby who simply shit on the rug.

We were in the middle of the club dance flooring and he simply walked up to me, pulled out his telephone, and showed me the video from his Facebook of him doing a leg press in a gym. I precisely stared at him as one would stare at a domesticated who merely shit on the rug.

16. He offered me half-price on weed if I had fornication with him.

‘Sooo…I can give you this at half-price if you want to stay over.’

I backed out of the room laughing. No, Tim, I’m fine with compensating full toll for a quarter-oz. of gras. I truly don’t want hepatitis.

17. He just takes his dick out and starts jackin’ it.

Oh man, my wife’s best friend has a good one, but I don’t know if she is on here and it’s pretty difficult to not mention.

So she goes on this date with a dude who looked like a pattern. Ravishing would be the word I may have heard.

Anyway, they go on this time. They get in her gondola, and he just takes his dick out and starts jackin’ it. She’s like,’ What the fuck are you doing ?’ and he simply looks at her like a magician trying to’ wow’ her. She doesn’t make regardless, though, and she’s pretty pissed. He goes disturbed and emits this phenomenal word,’ Pfftyou’re just like the others.’

Which is necessary that he has done this before! There is some good-looking buster who just goes on years and jacks off in their auto and thinks why no one likes him.

18. His military dog tag said’ Established in China.’

This guy is seeking to impress me at a table by telling me how he worked in the military forces. He had that various kinds of braggy outlook that makes people uncomfortable. Telling me how he’s trained to kill and knows how to use SO numerous artilleries, and fly this and drive that, and knows hand-to-hand duel. I symbolize I don’t know anyone in the military, so “whos” I to say that some people didn’t behave like that? But it seemed so showy. He then’ accidentally’ drooped his dog tags on the field. Which also seemed strange. Who accompanies their dog tag to a table, and too aren’t you supposed to wear them? Anyways, I was quicker to picking them up, he made a big deal about me looking at them, saying I wasn’t even supposed to touch them, as I was siding them back it clearly said’ Established in China’ stomped on the back.

19. He told me that he didn’t ordinarily year’ Russian chicks'( I have blonde “hairs-breadth”, so OBVIOUSLY I’m Russian ).

After producing me all the types of soda from the school vending machine( despite being told numerous periods that I can’t drink soda ), he pulled up a sung on his phone and explosion it on full volume. He told me to seeing how he understood the Japanese lyrics and the romance they held because love was a language pronounced through raw spirits and could be understood by all. And of course, how the chant represented our charity. It was pretty cringeworthy.

Oh yeah, and he also told me that he didn’t normally date’ Russian chicks'( I have blonde fuzz, so OBVIOUSLY I’m Russian) because they are so strong and tough that they devastate his manliness. But I was’ an aesthetic goddess’ who could defined him free.

These are just the highlights. He did this substance every day on the bus for a whole semester.

20. He read entire sheets from a journal written in Latin over a dinner time in a thick-skulled Italian accent.

Reading entire sheets from a journal writes to Latin over a dinner appointment in a dense Italian accent because’ that’s the way it most probably voiced ,’ without translating anything, until I was about ready to fall asleep. I wrote off all classics majors after that date.

21. He asked me to his prom when I was 10 by buying me a sugar bar.

Had a person ask me to his prom. I was 10 and had never assembled him before. He asked me by buying me a sugar prohibit while I was waiting for my mama to check out in the grocery store.

I was creeped-out. My mama thought it was hilarious.

22. I told him over and over again that I don’t like my hoofs stroked, but he wouldn’t relent.

On our first appointment, about ten minutes in he told me that everyone always said that he afforded the best paw rubs and asked if I wanted one. I told him over and over again that I don’t like my hoofs touched, but he wouldn’t relent, so I finally said fine. Cue what is like him literally trying to break my paw. Purposed up with bruises.

23. One day he brought in his daughter( who was probably 6) and established me to the daughter as’ mommy.’

When I was 18 waiting tables a much older man used to come in and sit in my division a lot. One daylight he brought in his daughter( who was probably 6) and interposed me to the daughter as’ mummy .’ He told me he knew I was the’ commitment sort’ and told you he said I was worth’ the best thought he had to offer .’ It was cringeworthy.

He had been coming in for a few months before it got to this stage of what-the-fuckness. When it happened I freaked out in the kitchen about it but deterred my cool in front of him and didn’t say anything about it. Although the next time he came in he delivered his mother and introduced me as his lover and I lost it. I grabbed my director and he knocked him out. The creepiest constituent about it was that he worked in a medical federal prison. I never read him again, although I did run into his mother at Walmart about a month ago and it was very uncomfortable.

24. He would tell me tales of generally being a dick and follows up on with’ I know I’m an asshole, but at the least I’m honest, right?

It’s a tie between the guy that would tell me storeys of generally being a dick and following up with’ I know I’m an asshole, but at least I’m honest, right ?’ and the guy that told me the story of how he drove the only girl out of his WoW guild by going everyone to refer to her as a talking vagina( but she totally deserved it because she had a high-pitched expres ).

25. He revved his instrument and proceeded to take a sharp turn too fast and trenched his bike.

I was walking with got a couple of my girlfriends when a guy on a motorcycle transferred us. As he drove by, he revved his locomotive and proceeded to take a sharp turn too fast and trenched his bike.

He took off his helmet as he countenanced up and touched himself off, picked up his motorcycle, then he put his helmet back on. Merely he tried to set his helmet on downward at first.

My friends and I are not mean-spirited, this is why we managed to keep a straight face until he drove away, then we tittered our fannies off. Poor guy.

26. He came by every day to ask if I was’ legal’ yet.

I was 14 and working at a coffee stand on an infantry basi. A soldier came in and started making on me , not realizing how age-old I was. I told him my age and expected that he would give me an awkward apology and walk away … Instead, he told me that I was lying. It took some of my regulars coming in and persuading him that I was really 14. Instead of awkwardly rationalizing and “re going away”, he came by every day be interested to know whether I was’ legal’ yet.

Let me say to you , nothing says flattering quite like a creepy older guy who plans to mostly stalk you at work for the next four years until you transform 18…

27. He texted me every hour or so every day for almost a month.

He texted me every hour or so every day for almost a month, then asked me out over text. When I rejected he said something along the lines of,’ Well it doesn’t have to be a” year date ,” we could go as sidekicks and see if anything happens. Assure, I can be accommodating !’

-.-

After another month of this I made a Google expression history and told him I changed my number. It’s been almost 3 years and I get texts/ phone calls on that number.

Anyways he terminated up dating your best friend, flirted with me perpetually, cheated on her with multiple daughters( not me ), the two is broken, he asked me out again, then nearly got arrested for threatening to beat up a few girls. But hey, he’s super adjust!

28. Cue me walking away and trying unsuccessfully not to laugh.

Let me talk to you about Heelys guy!

I’m at my university, waiting for the crosswalk to change, when out of the corner of my seeing I observe this guy marching towards my site from the other side of the intersection. He has a skater helmet on( not clipped, simply kind of hanging there 2cool4safety) and is skidding on, of course, Heelys. He stops about a paw from me and just…stares.

Me: Umm, can I help you?

HG: Yeah, you can stop raping me with your eyes.

Me: alrighty then.

HG: Also you can give me your number.

Me: Yeah, that’s not happening.

At this detail the crosswalk signal changed and I started to walk away. HG, who had just been staring at me( red-eyed, most definitely high out of his attention at noon on a Monday ), then grabs the back of a scooter and is heelying in all the regions of the intersection to follow me . When he gets to the end of the intersection, he tells proceed of the mope( as the motorist is screeching at him) and And he falls on the dirt. And his helmet wheels away because it wasn’t clipped on.

Me: Are you okay?

HG: NO CAUSE YOU REJECTED ME.

Cue me walking away and trying unsuccessfully not to laugh.

29. He fell with an inaudible howl in between the two buildings( about 12 -1 5 hoofs ).

In college, I lived in an apartment building that was extremely close to an old-fashioned original building on the pulley-block where my friend lived. He and I were just sidekicks at the time, but I knew he was interested. I had just been out riding my bike and was moving my bicycle up the steps to the stoop in front of our doorway. There was about a 7-10 paw crack between our slouch and the porch of this old house. Unbeknownst to me, your best friend was( in his thinker) cleverly trying to sneak up on me, Spider-Man style by briskly rushing from the hall to our stoop while I went out my keys. Nonetheless, his project disappeared awry, and he fell with an inaudible cry in between the two buildings( about 12 -1 5 hoofs ). I casually penetrated my suite with my bicycle as usual. Two minutes later, I sounds a whack. I consider my friend, battered knees and joints, seeming preferably sheepish. I’m confused and referred, then he tells me what happened, in front of my roommates( all mutual pals ), and we DIE laughing! Poor guy. Of trend, we bandage him up and give him a beer for his bothers. LOL.

30. Catcalled me every day on my jogging route for a week.

Catcalled me every day on my jogging direction for a few weeks. Creepy as fuck. After the second largest or third daylight, I was like,’ I’m not going to let some lout frighten me away from my favorite road !’ So I remained proceeding, but I outlined the line when he actually tried to search me. Now I go in the complete opposite tendency. Pisses me the fuck off.

I are well aware that forestalling the guy was a bad notion because then he could potentially hurt others, and I repent not doing anything. But given my age, prominence, etc. at the time, I wasn’t in any position to physically fight back without endangering myself. I was also afraid of the person following me dwelling/ harming me even more, so I got the fuck away as soon as I could.

31. A guy had a gazette that was fitted with poems about me, sheets of’ I love you’ written over and over.

A guy had a magazine that was filled with poems about me, pages of’ I love you’ written over and over, storeys in excruciating detail of how we’d waste the rest of “peoples lives” together and he even had described pictures of what our children would look like. Every sheet was dated. This gentleman wrote in it EVERY DAY for a year. I had no hypothesi about it until he gave it to me for my birthday.

32.’ Do you feel bad enough for me to give me your numeral ?’

I was working and this teenager that had been hitting on me all day came back and tried to hop onto the gratuities of his skis.( Using his spars to prop himself up ?) Even though the move was supposed to decline my gasps, he altogether gobble shit the noise was unmistakable. I hear a smack-dab, him conveying his sting and then,’ You didn’t see that, right ?… Do you feel bad enough for me to give me your digit ?’

33. Dude draws out the full-size metal rose that he’s piece and welded by himself and decorated up all fancy.

I was dating a person in first-year university( he was a fair fragment older than me) and I mainly discovered him nights and weekends. He was a metalworker and ran long eras, etc.

Things weren’t moving in the direction I wanted them to be going( read: him accepting me as his real girlfriend/ actually officially dating) it spawned a lot of petty arguments.

I dissolved up breaking up with him and going back to his region the next day to get my nonsense. He croaks,’ Oh, I stimulated you this for Valentine’s Day but hadn’t demonstrated it to you’dude plucks out the full-size metal rose that he’s slashed and welded by himself and coated up all fancy.

The breakup has been the case in

Dude panicked and tried to draw out some nostalgic gesticulate after recognizing I was leaving.

I took the rose and I left. It sits on my desk and I look at it every day.

Spoils of war.

34. He counterfeited having a girlfriend.

Faking having a girlfriend. If anything, it shaped me like him even less( which I didn’t think was possible ).

35. For about 10 minutes. I was expiring of second-hand dishonour for him.

I was at a barroom with some pals and a reasonably decent-looking guy begin to chat me up. He starts to talk to me about how smart he is and how he turned down a scientific master’s orientation at[ nearby university] to work at a biotech startup. Interested, I ask about what the startup does, etc. Just being polite and obligating conversation.

It turns out he works at a clinic that does Alzheimer’s disease evaluations…doing intake paperwork. After unsuccessfully trying to change the subject to spare him embarrassment, he asks me what I know about Alzheimer’s.( Of course) before I answer he steamrolls me to say to me in voluminous( mistaken) detail about the disease. For about 10 instants. I was succumbing of second-hand shame for him. He then finally asks what I do…

I’m approximately halfway through a Ph.D. program in which I analyse molecular mechanisms underlying Alzheimer’s disease.

At this level I ask if he wants to leave. He does.

36. I don’t care how quickly, raucous, or how gaudy your car is, you’re fucking annoying.

Any guy that tried to impress me with the type of automobile they drove. I don’t care how fast, raucous, or how flashy your gondola is, you’re fucking riling .”

37.’ I’ve always wanted to have 4 minors. I have 3 now. I’ve always known you are able to give me# 4.’

I had an old high-school acquaintance find me on Facebook and pm me’ I’ve always wanted to have 4 children. I have 3 now. I’ve always known you are able to give me# 4.’

38. After being told,’ Do not talk to me again’ and the three months of no contact, I’m clearly SUPER into him.

By attacking me with texts nonstop and asking me out in “the worlds largest” ridiculous way. He’d never do anything in person, only make awkward small talk, and the second largest we led our separate behaviors I’d get a text asking me to dinner. After becoming it very clear that I did not want to date him( straight up said,’ I am not very interested in dating you “), he’d is an attempt persuasion me that I was flirting with him all the time.

Oh yeah, because clearly I have no thought what my own intentions are and necessitate someone else to explain them to me.

Even after flat-out telling him,’ I am not interested in dating you ,’ he’d question’ But, like, what does that really signify ?’ Oh gee buddy, I necessitate it actually reverberates open-ended. After about a month of him trying to ask me out and me telling him,’ I AM NOT INTERESTED IN DATING YOU ,’ I told him to stop texting me and to not talk to me in class. And he did, until 3 months later. That’s when I get an essay-long text, telling me I’m perfect and’ not forgery like other girls’ and that he hates everybody but he doesn’t hate me and blah blah blah and aims the verse with ‘[ First Name Last Name ], will you do me the honour of being your lover? Or we are in a position only be friends that’s cool very .’ Because after being told,’ Do not talk to me again’ and 3 months of no contact, I’m clearly SUPER into him.

39. He immediately starts talking about how much money he makes, his life’s indulgences, his recent purchases.

Whenever I gratify a person, go on a date with him or exactly have a conversation with him and he immediately starts talking about how much money he makes, his life’s luxuries, his most recent obtains, etc. that to me, is the saddest most annoying happening that person can do and by no means the right way to impress me.

Guys acting like that tells me two things: 1) You think so ambiguous and so superficially of me, that you think that impresses me; 2) You think so little of yourself and your reputation, that you use materialistic components to try and get girls, and that is a terminated TURNOFF.

40. Librathe LION.

I was at a rail once, and a fellow tried hitting on me by questioning,’ What’s your signal ?’ After chuckling, then feeling bad( because he was completely serious ), I answered the question.

‘I’m a Libra.’

‘Ooohhhhh, the LION !’ he exclaimed.

‘No ….. the Scales ….’ I respond.

‘Ah…I’m often better at this. Sorry ,’ was his reply, as I smile and leave with my drink.

41. He told me he was a Saudi prince and offered me a million dollars to have sex with him.

I was a waitress in a restaurant. A Middle Eastern guy was just telling me he was a Saudi prince and offered me a million dollars to have sex with him. I met this is just creepy-crawly, and likely bullshit, therefore I said no.

I still sometimes be interested to know whether he was telling the truth, because honestly if he was, the answer would’ve been,’ Let’s go.’

42. A guy tried to rap for me.

A guy tried to rap for me. I have nothing against rapping and I like rap music, but it was to HIS OWN previously recorded rap that he put on his iPhone.

No music , good-for-nothing. Just him yelling into his telephone. And he didn’t even know the words !! To his own rap !!!

43. He tried to light-footed two cigarettes at once.

My SO tried to light two cigarettes at once on our second date.

The wind stopped snuffing out the kindle. With two cigarettes still in his mouth he said,’ Affecting you one flop at a time.’

His attempt to impress me didn’t work, but I thought he was cute so I remained him.

We no longer smoke.

44. I told him he was likely to go back to DC.

Told me the only intellect he hadn’t asked me out yet was because I seemed like I had a male back at home taking care of me, asked me out regardless, and when I said no, proceeded to tell me that’ if you were living in DC you’d be all over me. I get hundreds of numbers when I was in DC.’

I told him he was likely to go back to DC.

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