#UGH RAZOR HONEY you are not making this easy

[lupicalled]

me: wants to ship w/ razor so he can get the cuddles he deserves

also me: he is afraid of people what are you talking about

[downondilaudid]

High as a Kite

After a stressful case reader unwinds in her own unique way, unfortunately, the BAU is called in on another case. Spencer doesn’t seem too fond of the reader’s stress reliever.

A/N: This is very poorly edited. I just got into a massive fight with a few friends. So now I’m very sad, and just wanna sleep. But fuck them. Like that one vine says, I don’t need friends, they disappoint me. Seriously, FUCK THEM. I still love them doe, i have too, they’re the only friends i have.

Oh also, I wrote this in first person, instead of my usual second person. Let me know if you like it or not! <3

Requested: Yes

Prompts: None

Word Count: 2.9K

Warnings: (Unprotected)Penetrative Sex, a DASH of angst, drug use, let me know if I missed anything.

“He rarely smoked, but once in a while, like now, when his world had been shaken, his woman nearly killed in front of his eyes, and he’d watched a house consume a man and spit him out, he figured a drag or two were appropriate.”

― Christine Feehan, Safe Harbor

Relaxing after a case was one of my favorite things on the planet. Especially when it ended well, I had been able to watch as the little girl who had been stolen from her family, ran to her parents, her little arms wrapping around their legs. Seeing the love and adoration in the parent's eyes as the wept and held her made me want to have a child of my own.

Spencer and I had been together for a little over a year, but I doubt either of us are ready for children. Our job alone is stressful enough, in fact, it’s how we met. I worked as a technical analyst under Penelope Garcia. I will say my job wasn’t as strenuous as Spencer’s, but it’s not exactly ideal to look at dead bodies all day.

We all have our own peculiar ways of unwinding, Spencer loves to sit and read a few books, Hotch heads home to spend time with Jack, and Emily is always down for a drink. I, on the other hand, would much rather smoke a bowl than read a book. It was my own way of unwinding and allowing my brain to cleanse itself of the horrors of the world.

My pink pipe was packed with weed, a matte black lighter in my hand. The weed burned in the small bowl, crisping to a dark black. My finger released the carb of the pipe a couple of times, allowing the smoke to fill my lungs.

The haunting voice of Lana Del Rey filled the room. Her voice alone is smooth as honey, but listening to her while high is an ethereal experience. I could only imagine what Spencer would do if he could see me now, probably ramble off the statistics of marijuana addiction. But I could definitely say I wasn’t addicted, it was just an easy way to relax.

I took another hit, watching as the smoke tumbled from my lips. My stomach rumbled, causing me to giggle lightly, here come the munchies. Usually, I didn’t have the biggest sweet tooth, but when I’m high I can’t get enough sugar.

My hands pulled open the pantry, hips swaying lightly to the music.

Suddenly the music was gone, replaced by an annoying buzzing, “Ugh, you’re fucking kidding.” I groaned. I let the pantry fall shut, making my way over to where my phone sat. I had an inkling who was calling me, but every ounce of my body was praying I was wrong. Unfortunately, I was not, as I had one text from Hotch and a missed call from Spencer.

As if on cue, my phone buzzed in my hand, Spencer’s name illuminating the phone. Quickly I answered the call, pulling the phone up to my ear. “Hiya Spence.” 

“You get the call?” Spencer questioned, his voice cracking slightly, it was obvious he hadn’t used it in a while. He had probably been reading ever since he got home.

I giggled lightly at the sound of Spencer’s voice, taking a moment to admire the perfect way it croaked. “Mhm, can you pick me up?” 

There was no immediate response, it was obvious there was something off, Spencer could tell. I never asked him to drive me anywhere, I was always the one driving. Especially due to Spencer’s hatred of automobiles. 

“But don’t you usually pick me up?” he questioned. 

“Spencer, that last case… I’m literally the definition of exhaustion, can you please, just this once?” I was hoping that with the use of his full first name, he would understand the seriousness of my question. There was no way I was driving to work, with Spencer in the car, while high. 

Speaking of, I still had zero idea how I was going to act sober in a room of profilers, granted, I had a lot of practice of acting sober in front of people, just not at work. Unfortunately for me, the best two words to describe myself while high were, giggly and horny. Oh, and hungry, who doesn’t get the munchies?

Spencer sighed on the other end of the line, “Of course, Y/N.” He paused for a moment, a slight hesitation in his voice with his next words. “Is-is everything okay?” 

“Oh, totally, the case just got to me, that's all!” My reply was all but convincing, it didn’t help the awkward silence made me giggle, which I quickly stifled with my hand. But to Spencer, I’m sure it sounded like a muffled sob. At least he’d buy it, right?

… 

I hopped into the car, looking too giddy to be dealing with another case, “hey.” 

Spencer turned his head to look at me, his eyebrows furrowed slightly, and his tongue peeking out between his pink lips. “Y/N are you sure you’re okay?”

I rolled my eyes before playfully glaring at Spencer, “yes, now drive, baby.” I reached out, grabbing the gear shift, and shifting the car into drive. 

The car rolled slightly before a startled Spencer slammed his foot on the brake, “Y/N what the- my foot wasn’t even on the brake! Do you know how many accidents are caused a year due to pedal error? Sixteen thousand, and that’s just in the U.S.”

I know it was inappropriate, but during the whole lecture he was giving me I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his hands. They were so perfect, long and thick, the number of times that I’ve come undone on those hands is immeasurable. I shifted in my seat before meeting his eyes. Honestly, I hadn’t comprehended a word he said, something about cars?

Spencer shifted the car back into park, turning in his seat to lean towards me. His eyes scanned me up and down, and not in a good way. “You’re acting strange. You’re overly bubbly, especially considering we have another case. You aren’t thinking rationally-”

A gasp left my body once I realized what he was doing, “Spencer Walter Reid, are you profiling me? We agreed not to do that!”

Despite my yelling he kept speaking “and you were too focused on the movement of my hands to retain a single word I told you.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. 

“Spencer, what the fuck are you-ow!” A blinding light clouded my vision, causing me to recoil further into my seat. 

A scoff left Spencer’s mouth as he turned off the flashlight. “You’re high,” he stated, “what did you take?”  

“I’m not-” I quickly stopped my sentence once I saw the glare Spencer was sending me. “Okay, I just smoked a little weed. Seriously, it wasn’t a lot.”

Spencer unlocked his phone, pressing a few buttons before opening the “W-what are you doing?” I asked, although I already knew the answer. 

“Calling Hotch” Spencer replied, his voice even yet stern. It was somehow scarier than his occasional outburst.

“What? No, Spencer!” I reached over the console, latching my hands onto his phone, before pulling back. Sadly, the phone stayed rooted in his large hands, and with a swift tug, he had the phone back in his grasp. 

Spencer glared harsh daggers at me, before looking back down, and continuing to type on the phone. “Y/N, you’ve already pushed me far enough. Sit down and keep your mouth shut.” 

I fell back into my seat, pouting and crossing my arms childishly. The faint sound of ringing broke the silence, stopped by the barely audible voice of Hotch over the phone. 

“Hotch, Y/N can’t come in, she’s sick. I think she has a fever.” The lie tumbled easily out of his lips. 

My head whipped towards him, my eyebrows raised in amusement. “Thanks, I will.” Spencer ended the conversation, this time setting his phone in the cupholder in the console. 

I giggled lightly, “what would I do without you to save my ass?” 

He didn’t respond, instead putting the car in drive, this time with his foot on the brake. Silence filled the car, Spencer opting to focus on the road, and me fidgeting with the hem of my skirt. 

“Spencie, are you mad at me?” I asked, resting an elbow on the console between us. 

It was obvious he was frustrated, I would be too, but how was I supposed to know we’d get called in on a case? “Yes, Y/N” he answered, his words punctuated and his jaw clenching, accentuating his razor-sharp jawline. 

There was something about angry Spencer that sent shockwaves to my core, leaving me squirming against the leather of the car. Eh, what the hell, might as well go for it, I can just blame it on the cannabis. 

My arm reached across the console, my hand landing on the top of Spencer’s thigh. I watched him visibly jump at my touch, he obviously wasn’t expecting it. “Are you sure it’s just anger?” 

He sighed loudly, one of his hands leaving the steering wheel to remove my own from his leg.

…  

“Please Spencer, just really quick? It’d help you relieve some stress!” I cried as I walked through the door. 

Another angry sigh left Spencer’s mouth, he seemed to be doing that a lot. “Y/N, you’re under the influence, I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

I almost laughed at his statement, it was perfectly logical of him to think that, and utterly sweet. But he was my boyfriend, my love, I would fuck him in whatever state I’m in. “Spence, I can promise you you’re not taking advantage of me. We’ve had sex countless times, I’d have sex with you even if I was sober, have you seen you?” I paused for a moment before adding onto my sentence, breaking the slight tension with humor, “yourself, not you, that doesn’t sound right.” 

Spencer chuckled to himself, rolling his eyes as he reached for his belt. “Hell yes!” I cried as I began to undo the buttons of my blouse, quickly shedding it. I could’ve just left the blouse on, but Spencer was a tits man through and through. 

As soon as I heard the clinking of his belt colliding with the floor, I ambushed him, immediately letting my lips find his. The kiss wasn’t rough, nor was it gentle, it was somewhere in between, a perfect balance. I pulled away, biting down lightly on Spencer’s bottom lip. 

My hand slipped into his unzipped pants, palming him lightly. It was the most heavenly sight on earth to watch his head fall back, and a low moan tumble from his lips. “Fuck, Y/N” 

Nodding my head I giggled, “yes, please fuck Y/N.”

Spencer tilted his head back up, laughing lightly at my comment.

I pulled away from him, grabbing the hem of my skirt and shimmying it up over my hips. Spencer’s eyebrows raised, a look of amusement on his face. “Please” I begged.

“Alright, turn around, over the table,” Spencer commanded, his voice low and demanding.

A giggle passed my lips as I turned around, making my way over to the table. My top half pressed against the table, my body resting against my forearms. I could hear Spencer’s footsteps as he crossed the room, stopping behind me. His large hands wrapped around my hips, pushing my skirt higher up my body. “Do you know how irresponsible it was of you to try and come into work while under the influence?” 

His hand left my hip coming back down onto my backside, the impact causing me to cry out. “Spencer!”

His hand raked up my side, grabbing a fist full of my hair. “I-I didn’t have a choice.” I stuttered out as one of his fingers hooked onto my underwear, pulling them to the side. 

“You did have a choice, you chose not to inform Hotch, leaving me to save your ass. Do you understand how detrimental the consequences could’ve been if something were to go wrong?” Spencer’s fingers ran through my folds, spreading around my arousal. 

“Fuck” I moaned out, using my forearms to push myself back against his hand. “Better hurry this up, Spence, we don’t have long.” Spencer shuffled behind me before I felt the head of his cock brush against my core. “Fine, if you’re so impatient.” He grunted, pulling back on my hair, and pushing his cock into my folds. 

He was quick to set a rough pace, pulling out and pushing back in, using the hand in my hair as leverage to pull me back in time with his thrusts. “Yes, Spencer, fuck,” I groaned out. 

“You know,” Spencer started, pausing to roughly thrust into me, sending my body forward against the table, the edge digging into my thighs. “If you wanted a stress reliever, you could’ve come to me. Sex releases endorphins and other hormones, the same way exercise does. Particularly, oxytocin, commonly referred to as the “love hormone.” 

I moaned against the table, my body beginning to falter as my orgasm approached. “Fuck, Spencer, mhmm, yes.” 

With every thrust, I could feel the strain of Spencer yanking my hair back, which would definitely leave a crick in my neck. But I was enjoying myself too much to tell him to stop. I could practically feel Spencer’s anger with every obscene smack of our sweaty skin. It was what I was hoping for, a good fuck, and for Spencer to be able to release his anger before heading back to the BAU. 

Surprisingly, Spencer released his vice grip on my hair, easing the tension on my neck, allowing my face to fall forward and my cheek to squish against the table. He planted his forearm beside my head, leaning over me so his chest was pressed against my back. “How good would you feel if I allowed you to come right now?” To add to the pleasure, Spencer’s hand resting on my hip wormed its way around my body, two of his long digits beginning to rub circles around my swollen bud. 

A sob racked my body at the added pleasure, and my eyes rolled into the back of my head. I could feel my legs starting to tremble as I held back my release, almost as if my body knew I couldn’t let go until he gave me permission. “Please, please?” I begged.

“Say it. Promise me you’ll come to me next time you need to relieve stress.” Spencer growled, his voice cracking, signaling he was close too. 

The desperate sounds of our moans and the musty smell of sex filled the room, drowning out my senses. I was too lost in the euphoria to reply, instead, I deliriously rutted my hips back as an attempt to feel him deeper. 

Spencer let out a groan before burying his head deep in the crook of my neck, moaning out “promise me, Y/N.” 

“I promise, fuck, please, Spencer?” The words tumbled almost incoherently out of my lips, barely comprehensible. 

Nodding his head against my skin, he placed an open-mouthed kiss to my neck before moaning out “come, come with me Y/N.” 

And just like that, I was sent headfirst into a trembling, teeth-clenching orgasm. My back arched, uncomfortably pressing my breasts even further against the table. My vision went white, and my legs threatened to collapse. Spencer had stilled, burying his cock deep in my cunt, lewdly moaning out my name, and a series of various curses. An unfamiliar warmth coursed through my body as he filled me up with his seed. Leaving me to grin like a Cheshire cat, caked in sweat. 

The two of us laid against the table, deep pants leaving both our mouths. Spencer pulled out, tucking himself back in his pants. “Thank you” I giggled, pushing myself up from the table, and shuffling my skirt back down my legs. 

When I turned around I was met with the sight of a sweaty Spencer, running his hands through his tousled hair. “You look fine, Spence.”

I could tell Spencer was trying his hardest to contain his smile, probably wanting to stay mad at me. But as soon as his eyes met mine, his face broke into a soft smile, my own following suit. I took a step forward, wrapping my arms around his torso, and letting my head rest against his chest. “I love you” I murmured against his shirt. 

His arms wrapped around my back, pulling me closer to him, “I love you too” he replied, placing a kiss to the top of my head.

“Okay, I have to go,” Spencer said, letting his arms fall back to his side.

I pulled back, unwrapping my arms from his body. “Don’t forget your belt,” I nodded towards his belt that was left discarded on the floor in the midst of our frenzy. 

“I have an eidetic memory, Y/N, remember?” Spencer joked, snatching his belt from the floor, and looping it back through his pants. 

Rolling my eyes with a laugh I replied, “that doesn’t mean things can’t slip your mind, Spence.” 

“Actually-” he started.

I cut him off by opening the front door, “bye, have fun, I love you!” 

Spencer laughed, pecking me on the lips before heading out the door, looking over his shoulder to call out, “we’ll talk more about this later, Y/N. Don’t think you’re off the hook just yet.”

“Shit.” I groaned, letting the door fall shut.

Taglist: @pinkdiamond1016 @gubler-squad @garcias-batcave

[poisxnyouth]

bad influence dave part 3 (d.d)

A/N: this feels soooo short but ik it’s not i’m just used to 12k chapters DHCBJKD enjoy let me know what u think and what ur fave parts are <3 -hailey

word count: 3.2k

 “Fuck. I’m faded, dude,” David groans to Ilya, lighting a cigarette, “You know Y/N? Be nice to her. She’s a good girl, and she’s gonna be around more. So, like, don’t make me look like an idiot.” 

 “Ohhhh, what is this? Is Davey catching feelings? For a one-night stand? What is this world we’re living in?” Ilya mocks, sitting on the couch next to David, “Dima, do you hear this?”

 David smacks the fuck out of him haphazardly, cig between his lips as he takes a drag and takes it between his fingers, “I haven’t fucked her, dickhead. I haven't even gone down on her. She’s a virgin, not that it’s any of your business.” 

 “Bro, she’s too cute. Hit it and quit it,” Ilya shrugs, “Remember when you swore off girlfriends, like, two years ago?” 

 David shrugs, smoking, “Maybe it’s time for that to change. I want her to be my girl. She’s good for me.” 

 “You just know your mom will like the cross around her neck,” Ilya comments, “I’m joking, bro. You like her that much?” 

 David sucks his teeth and bites at his lips, “I think so. She’s just so shy…”

 Ilya tuts, scoffing, “You like that shit, dude. Don't act like you don't. You’re a controlling bitch. You’re not exactly an easy guy to get along with, Dave.” 

 “I know that,” he says, standing, “Whatever. Be nice to her, dude. You too, Dima. She’s on her way over.” 

 “I don't know how you haven't fucked her already, bro,” Dima finally says as he walks in, “She’s cute as fuck.” 

 “You think I don’t know that?” David puts his cigarette out, “She’s tight as fuck. Like…”

 He size compares with his fingers, making a circle and whistling, “Nothing fits. We’re going slower than I thought we would. Super-hot, though, not gonna lie — no complaints from my end. I’m gonna shower before she gets here, and we’re gonna hang with you guys. She’s staying the night.”

 David showers and you make your way to his place, already in pajamas, ringing his doorbell. David is sat on the couch again, quickly standing and pointing between Ilya and Dima, quietly warning them, “Be nice, fuckheads.” 

 He answers the door, pressing a kiss to your lips, “You can just come in, baby. No need to ring it.” 

 Ilya peeks around to the front door as David shuts it and gently places his hands on your waist, rubbing affectionately and asking, “I’m gonna make myself a drink – you want one?” 

 “Oh, he’s fucking whipped, dude,” Ilya tells Dima, nudging him, “Look at that shit.”

 Your arms wrap around his neck as you say Yes, please and kiss him again, proudly telling him, “I missed you.” 

 “Mm,” he hums into your kisses, “I missed you, too.” 

 Dima fake gags at the sight before you and Dave make your way to the kitchen, acting as if they weren’t watching. He half-assedly introduces you again, “Y/N – you know the pieces of shit that I live with.”

 You bashfully greet them as David pours himself a whisky neat, taking a slow sip, “What do you want, sugar?” 

 “What do you have?”

 “What do you want?” he repeats himself, watching you lean over his counter and shamelessly glancing down the neckline of your shirt. 

 “I could really use a glass of wine if you have some,” you admit, blushing at the way his eyes travel around and he peeks over your shoulder at your ass, “Anything red. Or pink. Or white. Anything. Work was horrible today.” 

 “I’ve got you,” David nods, going through his cupboards and picking a bottle, “Never doubt how I stock my bar. I have whatever you’re wanting.” 

 “It’s ‘cause he steals it from work,” Dima says loudly from the living room, “Don’t believe him. He’s a fucking thief.” 

 David rolls his eyes, voice going low as he pours you a glass, “I don’t. I did it once, like two years ago, and he hasn’t stopped eating my ass over it. Here, baby. Cheers.” 

 “Cheers,” you repeat, clinking your glass with his as he motions his head towards the living room, a silent indicator to move. 

 You do, following him and allowing him to tug you into his lap as you both sit down. David wraps his arm around you, grilling Dima, “Dima, dude, can you just...like, clean up after yourself? For once?”

 “I do!”

 “You literally don’t, bro,” he gripes, laughing and passing his drink to you so he can light a cigarette, “It’s not like it’s constant. You, like, let it pile up and then clean up. Who does that? Literally, look at the coffee table right now.” 

 Admittedly, it is super messy, and Dima knows it, but David continues, “Pick up your fucking empty lean cups, bruh. It’s not a dump.” 

 David takes his drink back from you and sips at it, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple, before Dima replies, “Fine. Whatever. I will, but I can't move right now. I’m too high.” 

 “Are you high?” you ask David, grabbing at his face by his cheeks and looking into his eyes.

 “Maybe,” he responds, eyes red, answering your question before you remove your touches, “Why? You wanna smoke? I could do another blunt.”

 You shrug, shaking your head, “Not right now. Let me finish my drink.” 

 “...Is Ilya okay?” you ask David as he puts his cigarette out and begins to lazily kiss down the column of your throat, not paying attention to anything else.

 “Huh?” he says, glancing over at his friend, knocked out on the couch, “Oh, yeah. Don’t worry about him. He went into work super early today and took a Xanax like, an hour ago.”

 You and David both finish your drinks and sink further into the couch, quietly cuddling and kissing. He’s further gone than he’d like to admit – he’s already smoked two blunts and four packed bowls by himself – and it’s beginning to fully hit him. 

 “Babygirl, I am so fucking high,” he admits, clearing his throat, “I’m starving. Smoke something. I want you to be high with me.” 

 He laces both of your hands together, and you realize he’s not asking, but telling – so you accept, nodding your head. 

 “Okay,” he shrugs, “Roll a blunt, then.” 

 “Like...by myself?” you ask him, anxious at the thought of him watching you most likely fail. 

 “Yeah, why not? The other day, I showed you how to. Everything’s on the table. Dima’s even more faded than I am, so don’t freak out. ‘S just me.” 

 Again, he’s not asking you – he’s telling you to. 

 So, you sit up and attempt to get it over with, reaching for a random razor blade and a pack of blunts. 

 David quickly sits up and takes the blade from you, “Nonono. No, baby. Holy shit, no. Why is this still fucking here?” 

 “What?” you ask confusedly, watching him get up and throw it away. 

 “Some girl one of these shitheads brought home the other night was trying to do something – I don't even know, probably coke – and cut her finger and bled all over that shit,” David washes his hands and sits back next to you, sighing deeply.

 “Sorry,” he drapes his arm around you, kissing your head comfortingly, “Keep going. That’s not your fault, baby.”

 You reach for another one on the table and look at him for permission, continuing once he approves with a nod. You do as you remember him telling you to, feeling him watch your every move as you load the grinder. 

 “More,” he comments, eyes cutting to you and shrugging, “Just a little bit.” 

 You do add more and grind it, and you carefully dump it into the honey blunt wrap you just emptied. You even it out with your fingertips, gently packing it. You roll one edge in and he stares as you lick the wrap carefully, sticking it. 

 “Good job,” he praises, moving to light a cigarette, “You did well. Now, smoke it.”

 “By myself?”

 “Yeah? You can do it,” David presses, “I’m already faded. One blunt by yourself should get you pretty close to where I am.” 

 “Fine,” you say, reaching for his Zippo.

 “Don’t get an attitude with me, sweetheart,” he rubs at your back casually, cig sitting between the first and second knuckles of his index and middle finger, “There’s no need. It’s not fun to deal with, anyway.” 

 You ignore him, lighting the blunt and beginning to hit it. You don’t say anything as David gets sucked into whatever garbage is on TV, absentmindedly taking puffs of his cigarette until he finishes it.

 “Oh, fuck,” you curse as you finish it, putting the roach out, “Oh, fuck.” 

 David laughs at you as you dig your head into his shoulder, hands wrapping around his bicep, “I told you.” 

 You close your eyes, breathing him in, “Jesus. You smell so good.”

 “I think we should go upstairs, baby,” standing and grabbing his cigs and lighter, tugging him along with you.

 “Are we gonna fuck?”

 “No,” he scoffs, laughing at you, “We’re not. Stop cursing. Come on. The guys are knocked out.” 

 You roll your eyes at him and take his hand, following him up and getting into bed with him. David takes you into his arms and kisses you, intending for it to be sweet, before you run your hand entirely down his front. He stops your hand once you make it past his hips, grabbing your wrist and saying harshly, “No, baby. Keep your hands to yourself.”

 “Ugh,” you roll your eyes, removing your touch, “Okay.”

 “Good to know you’re horny when you’re super high,” David comments, “But I’m not going to touch you or let you touch me when we’re like this. Not now, at least.”

 “That’s so lame-”

 “No,” he treads, “I’m looking out for you. Now, stop talking about it. It’s making you seem like a desperate whore.”

 “Maybe I am-”

 He cuts you off again, grabbing your chin and making you look at him, “But you're not. Not yet. It’ll come when it comes. Be patient, sugar.” 

 “I’m trying,” you say, eyes on his, “But I can't stop thinking about it. I want you so bad.”

 David’s arms wrap around you as he sighs, a derision of a smile playing at his lips, “You want it because I’m not letting you have it, and you’re just a brat.”

 “I can see it,” he shrugs, “You thinking about me at work, sitting at your little desk in one of your little dresses that I wish were so much shorter than they actually are...Not wanting to annoy me, so you don't know whether you want to text me or not; but you miss me, so of course, you break down and do it, telling me that you miss me and want to see me. Sometimes you might get the guts to ask to see me. Maybe you think about me when you’re at home…”

 He trails off for a moment, fingers pushing up the hem of your t-shirt as you listen to every word he says, knowing he’s right about every single part before he continues, “You think about me when you're making dinner, showering, making coffee, doing laundry, whatever; you wish I was there with you. But at home, you’re by yourself, and you can touch yourself at home. You probably try to, thinking about me and the things I could do to you, but you don't really know how to and it doesn't feel good yet, so you give it up and hope that the next time we see each other I’ll supply at least something.” 

 “Am I wrong?” David asks, glancing down and meeting your eyes. You shake your head no and he scoffs, fingertips rubbing delicately at the skin of your hips. 

 “I know I’m not. You think about me during church?”

 Your eyes widen and a mortified blush comes to your cheeks, but you can't lie to him – you clear your throat and tell him, “Um, yes.” 

 “Whore,” he says simply, “That’s whore behavior. Especially because you’ve never even sucked a cock. You’re needy – you’re lucky I like supplying. You probably pray for dick.” 

 He glances down at you and sees the embarrassed look flash across your face at his final statement, and it’s enough evidence for him to know he’s right.

 “So, why can’t you just fuck me?” you ask, shameless and attempting to ignore what he previously said as he stares up at the ceiling. 

 “Because, you whore,” he emphasizes, “When you keep saying you want it…”

 “It makes me less inclined to give it to you. Maybe you should learn how to wait before you take any dick,” he continues, your head resting on his chest as he speaks so casually, “Not to mention, babygirl, your pussy is, just...too tight for me to do anything yet.”

 “So?”

 “What do you mean, ‘So?’?” he scrunches his eyebrows together, “I’m not going to hurt you. I can't just...hit the gas on it and say, ‘Fuck it, full send.’ Plus, I know you’re going to bleed, so like-”

 “I wish this wasn't as complicated as it is,” you groan, “I want you to fuck me.” 

 “Stop swearing, baby,” David reminds, “Why so impatient, though? Because it’s me or because you want to get it over with?” 

 “It’s you,” you reply easily, rolling over to be able to look at him, fingers coming to his cheek, “I don't know what it is. I literally want you to ruin me.” 

 “And I will,” he ensures, kissing your forehead, “Don't doubt me. Just wait on it. Patience is rewarding.” 

 ++

 The next morning, even though David swore to himself that he wouldn't, you’re both sober now, and God, he’s so hard it hurts. 

 He kisses you deeply and leads your hand down into his shorts so you can feel how hard he is, too, dick pressed flat against his thigh. He lets you push his shorts and underwear down, mouth still on his, before you pull away and deliberately spit down his dick, looking up at him from your new spot.

 “Can I?” you ask him, something he actually finds quite endearing, but doesn't have time to think about as he nods. 

 “Put your mouth on it,” David tells you, threading his fingers through your hair, “Just...fuck. Anything, baby. I can't think right now. I’ll tell you if it’s not good.” 

 You anxiously glance up at him as you take him into your hand, David pushing your head down thoughtlessly as soon as he sees your mouth open. You gag, but he doesn't let go, pushing you down further and grunting.

 “Oh, fucking Christ,” you look up at him as best as you can, trying to breathe through your nose, watching his hips buck up and his eyes roll back. “Yes, babygirl. Yes.” 

 You think about your teeth and open your mouth further than you thought you could, jaw aching slightly as you push yourself down farther. 

 David whimpers at the extra movement, fingers tightly wound in the strands of your hair, “Oh, my God. Let me try to-”

 He moves his hips up, fucking into your mouth as you gag around him, eyes closed, “Yesyesyesyesyesyes. Take it.” 

 You genuinely want to, for him, but don't even know if you can as your eyes begin watering. He gives you a break and removes his dick, saying, “Look at me.” 

 You do, eyes wide and spit dripping from your swollen lips and onto him, hands beginning to work over him. David groans at the sight, taking your face into one hand, “You’re so fucking pretty – holy fuck. Just like that, babygirl. How I taught you.” 

 You stroke him and keep watching him as he makes a noise and sighs heavily, mouth dropping open and eyes closing, gasping out, “I’m gonna cum, sugar. Open your mouth.”

 You do and keep going, stroking under the head as he told you to the time before, as David makes a deep noise and his face twists up. Careful not to make a mess, he pushes your mouth over him as he cums, your lips sealed around him. 

 “Don’t swallow it yet,” he demands after he’s come, “Come here.”

 You make your way back up before he grabs your chin, “Open.” 

 He eyes the bitter cum still on your tongue and kisses you, tongue sliding against yours and tasting himself. His free hand rests around your throat as he pulls away and tells you to swallow, feeling your neck undulate underneath his touch as you obey him.

 “Fuck me,” David says quietly to himself against your lips, kissing you again, “You’re so good.” 

 He tugs his shorts and briefs back up, still relatively breathless, both hands coming to your waist, “It’s so sexy how good you want to be for me.” 

 “I just want you to feel good,” you tell him, “It’s hot watching you cum.” 

 “You don’t like watching me cum,” David shakes his head, reaching for his cigarettes, “You like when you know that you’re doing a good job.” 

 You reach for one from his pack, and he takes the liberty to hold open his Zippo, lighting the cig for you. “Don’t you like that feeling?”

 He shrugs as he takes a drag, tobacco between his fingers, exhaling the smoke as he speaks, “I guess, but it’s not a motivator.” 

 “No?”

 “Fuck no!” he scoffs, leaning back against his headboard and bringing you with him, resting your head in his chest, “I only say I love a girl when I wanna fuck her, and I fuck her so that I can cum.” 

 That’s so mean, you think as you both smoke, before realizing, “You haven't told me that.” 

 “I don't have to,” he replies, “Plus, I like you too much to lie to you. I’m catching feelings, no cap. I hope that’s okay. I don't want it to change anything.”

 You pull away to look at him, “For real?”

 “Yeah,” David says, taking a drag, “Is that so surprising?”

 “I mean, yeah,” you shrug, “But it’s definitely okay…”

 “Do you feel the same way?” he asks, fingers running through your hair, “If it’s a no, say it’s a no.” 

 “I do,” you nod, blushing as his hand rests around the nape of your neck, “I just thought it was just me.” 

 “Nah,” he tuts, “You know how fucking cute you are. Ilya and Dima were talking about wanting to fuck you. ‘S not just me that sees it, baby.” 

 “Well,” you flush, “I only want to fuck you, so…”

 “Mm,” he murmurs, taking a final drag of his cig as he hits the filter and puts it out, “I knew you’d be my girl before you even were.” 

 You put yours out, too, and move up to kiss him, “I’m your girl now?” 

 David’s arms wrap around you as he laughs slightly into your kiss, voice light, “Maybe. Why? You wanna be? You wanna meet my family, and my friends...have me buy you stuff, take you on dates...you want that stupid shit with me?”

 “Maybe. You want that with me?” you repeat back to him, fingers in his hair as you keep your eyes on his.

 He nods, “I do, actually.”

 “Then I guess I am.”

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #293

“your head upon a stick would look really sick, but they would call me crazy for the way i spoke to it”

Hey bitch, what's your fucking name? What a start, jc lmao. Brittany. What color are your nails? They're not painted. Last time you got some ass? Well this survey's gonna be a journey. Many years ago. Do your parents like your style/music choices? Yeah, at least most of it. Some music my mom really doesn't like or just hates, while I can't even imagine Dad's reaction to some bands I enjoy. Ever seen your parents make out? tbh would rather slam my ankle on a Razor scooter. What's your dream height and weight? Forget about my height, if I could just be at least 120 again... Do you put your hair up a lot or down? It's too short to put up. Most of the time do you straighten or curl your hair? Neither. What do you do when your house loses power? Light a bunch of candles and carry flashlights. What piercing do you hate? I'm not a fan of cheek piercings. Were you raised in a religious house? Yes. I grew up going to Sunday school and church, even though I hated both. Do your parents get mad when you're on the computer for hours? Gah... it was a very, very big source of argumentative fuel between Mom and me all the way up to my late teenage years when she just gave up; now, it's to be expected and is completely "normal." I always wanted to be on the computer once I was introduced to it; she tried to limit my time on it, and it was without fail what she would take away whenever I was grounded. I'd even sneak onto it when I wasn't allowed to if she wasn't home and Dad was in their room. My mom really did try to keep me from being hooked on technology, she really did, it just didn't work, but dear god I wish it did. I just about turn into a caveman without some form of it, and it's pretty pathetic. Dad meanwhile has never really cared much, but he'd make a comment here and there that would make me self-conscious about it. Have you ever been asked for a nude picture? No, and guess who would be ignored for the rest of their lives if they did. It's so fucking disrespectful and objectifying to me. If someone wants to send a partner something like that by their own volition, that's cool, but asking, that just seems incredibly rude to me and turns the person into an object of lust. Ever been so scared you pissed? Caaan't say I have. Can you watch scary movies at night and not be scared? Yeah, they've never really fazed me. Last reason you got your cell taken away? I actually don't know if that's ever happened, given the aforementioned computer thing. I was never hooked on my phone. Could you handle working on a farm? Nooooo, that is way too much physical exertion. Have you ever been attacked by an animal? No. Have you ever had to put an animal to sleep? ugh Do you have a favorite type of firework? Well, visually I really just like the big colorful ones, but I don't endorse the use of fireworks anymore. Some animals literally die from fear, they can be seriously upsetting to veterans with PTSD (you could have one in your neighborhood and never know you indirectly gave them a panic attack), and they're a large source of litter. Where would/did you get your first tattoo? My right wrist. What's your favorite kind of pet? Snakes. Favorite dinosaur? Spinosaurus is obviously the coolest. It's always been my fave. How many pets do you have? Sigh, just two. Our landlord doesn't want us to get anymore pets than what we came in with. What were two of your favorite Disney movies as child? The Lion King and Finding Nemo. They're still my favorite Disney movies. When carving pumpkins, how do you decide what you're going to do? I haven't carved a pumpkin in years... so idk. Do you own any art supplies? Some, yeah. Do you believe you have a higher IQ than most? Definitely not. What is the name of the doctor that delivered you? I have no clue. Mom knows him for sure because she's mentioned him from my childhood, but I don't. Have you ever seen a Lamborghini in person? Hunny, I live in rural North Carolina. You don't see that level of bougie here lmao. Shane Dawson: funny or annoying? I honestly think he's fucking hilarious. I just have such conflicting feelings about him after "the drama," hearing so many people's opinions (particularly from those who know him so well, like his fiance and Ryland's sister), fact checking, audio cutting and mixing, the whole "people change" philosophy... I don't know. When you have a container of Neapolitan ice cream, what flavor do you leave for last? I ain't touchin' strawberry. Gross. If you could choose to have any superpower ever, what would you pick? I'd wanna be a shapeshifter/druid. What would you be more embarrassed to buy: sex toys or adult diapers? Yikes, sex toys. Given my age, I'd say if I bought adult diapers, people would assume they weren't for me. I'm awkward enough with all things relating to sex to begin with, so. What’s the biggest animal you’ve ever killed? Yo wtf I never have and never will (intentionally) kill an animal. Well, correction: I've killed bugs before, the biggest probably being some spider or something, but I really try to avoid this now. Could you win the Hunger Games? lol hell to the fuck no, have you seen me??? For you, would getting amnesia be a good thing? ... Maybe? Not saying I wanna find out, though. Have you ever been punched in the face? No, plan on keeping it that way. Is morality universal or relative? I question this myself. Who is your favorite late night talk show host? I don't have one. Where do you put your keys when you get home? They stay in my purse. Do you prefer hot coffee or iced coffee? Neither. The sheer variety of questions relating to coffee and tea in surveys boggles my mind, always feel left out that I can't answer 'em lmao. What’s your phone background picture? My lock screen is this pretty, soft aesthetic screen that has "i am strong, i am loved, i am enough" written in the center. I've really needed it for my mental health lately. My home screen is some meerkats. I know, can you believe neither are currently Mark? Have you ever seen a snake in the wild? Plenty. How do you cope with anxiety? Deep breathing, mindfulness and grounding exercises, confiding in my mom, listening to music (usually my favorite calm, instrumental soundtracks, like from the Silent Hill franchise - particularly the second game! - or Shadow of the Colossus), try to nap, play a game as a distraction, watch my favorite YouTubers (typically something funny)... I'm lucky to have learned a lot. Now, if only I could cope with social anxiety... What was the last takeout food you ate? Oh Jesus, how embarrassing is this timing, seeing as it was one of my unhealthiest fast food orders: Son of the Baconator and Baconator fries from Wendy's. It was so fuckin good tho. Who makes you laugh the most? My friend Girt. What does a successful relationship look like to you? One with great communication and total honesty, and when you are able to build each other up and bring out the best in your partner. It's also imperative for you to feel safe being your authetic safe for me to consider it "successful." What do you like to put on your baked potato? "Salt, pepper, butter, cheese, bacon bits." <<<< That's how we do it, lads. What was the most memorable birthday you’ve had? My 16th, but not for good reasons. Would you rather go to the beach or the mountains? That's easy as hell, mountains. I don't like the beach. Do you look in the mirror before you leave the house? Yeah. Not gonna like what I see no matter what, but I'd like to make sure I don't look worse whan what's normal. Have you ever seen someone quit their job in a dramatic way? No. What do you like to dip your fries in? It varies between ketchup and honey mustard. What’s your favorite kind of museum? Science. Do you believe in alternate universes? Nah, I don't think so. Whose house did you last visit? My older sister's. What games do you play on your smart phone? Mostly just Pokemon GO nowadays. I haven't touched Dragons of Atlantis in a long time... Do you know anyone who is colorblind? Jason's older brother is red/green colorblind, I think? Are you the youngest, middle or eldest child in your family? Middle. What’s something you’ve been meaning to do but keep putting off? Ugh, I need to finish decorating my damn room... Got most of the stuff on the walls now, but it's still pretty skeletal in self expression. My motivation is abysmal. Have you ever flown a kite? Oh yeah, I loved to fly a kite with Dad as a little kid when the tobacco field just across the road was barren. Who was the last person you talked about sex/relationships with? My doctor. How many brothers does your father have? I'm almost certain he doesn't have one, just one sister. Do you think you act older or younger than your actual age? It depends on the situation. When it comes to "adulting," I don't have a fuckin clue what I'm doing. I doubt anyone would believe I'm a month shy of 25. In terms of general maturity, I think I act my age, if not older. When was the last time you swam in a pool? It's been years. What are your parents' views on your relationships? Mom is always very supportive so long as they treat me right; she's taken to all my previous partners very well and treated them like family, too. My dad is also supportive as long as I'm treated properly and happy. Is your best friend dating anyone? No. Have you ever babysat before? Twice, but not really willingly. Way too stressful. Do you delete pictures of you and your exes off of Facebook? It took a very, very long time, but all pictures with Jason are forever deleted. Ever had a huge crush on someone who still doesn’t know? Not a huge crush, no. Ever watched porn? No. You do you, but I don't see the appeal of watching some random people fuck. Ever performed in a talent show? No. Would you audition for a reality talent competition? Nope. How many celebrity crushes have you had? I'd say Jesse McCartney, Link Neal, and Mark Fischbach are my only BIG celeb crushes I've had. How many non-celebrity crushes have you had? I dunno, don't feel like reaching back and counting. Ever been compared to a celebrity? Not visually, but with my adoration of animals. Have any embarrassing pictures on Facebook? Oh, I'm sure. None that are horribly embarrassing though, or else I would have deleted them. Ever seen a therapist? I've regularly seen a therapist since the 6th grade. Ever purposely ignored a text? Yep. A Facebook message? Sure have, when I was beyond done arguing with a former friend. A friend request? No, I just decline or accept it. My page is private, so you can't see my activity, and it's not like they get notified if it's declined, Would you say you read into things too much? I am the fucking sovereign of this. If you turned out exactly like your mom would you be pleased? I love my mom to death, but no. I'd be disappointed. Ever had a credit card denied? I've never had one in the first place. Ever had the lead in a play? No. I do remember though in elementary school, I was real bummed that I wasn't Snow White for one we did for Music class. What about a solo in a concert? Never been in a concert. Would it bother you if you found out that your mother was pregnant? Well. One, she's long past menopause. Two, because of ovarian cancer, she had all those organs removed. So, that would be impossible. Have you ever had a threesome? No; I'm personally strictly monogamous and would feel it to be disloyal, even if my parnter was okay with it. What's the last game you used dice for? Not a clue. Are you interested in surfing at all? Have you ever been? No. What brand of bottled water do you prefer? Essentia. What is your favorite type of bird? Barn owls. What is your favorite chocolate candy? motherfuckin REESE'S Have you ever been called a racial slur? No, considering I'm Caucasian. Why did you last stand in line? I was at the doctor's office, I think? What is your favorite pirate movie? /shrug What is your favorite character from Orange Is the New Black? I've never watched it. What was the most unsettling film you’ve seen? Watching the ending to Paranormal Entity was VERY uncomfortable. It was a decently scary movie, but the ending was seriously intense. When was the last time you were snooping, and found something you wish you hadn’t? I don't recall. Which celebrity or band has the worst fan base? I don't know. What are you interested in that most people aren’t? The sheer degree of my love for meerkats would definitely be missed by probably most people. What smartphone feature would you actually be excited for a company to implement? I dunno. Anything I could think of, the most current products probably already have and I'm just uninformed of them. Like, I use a Tracfone lmao. What’s something people don’t worry about but really should? Their plastic usage and disposal. I'm certainly no saint when it comes to plastic either, but I try to do all I can. What movie quotes do you use on a regular basis? Hm, ARE there any? Do you think that children born today will have better or worse lives than their parents? This depends on what you consider "better" and "worse." Environmentally, I honestly don't think mankind can maintain itself for that many more generations at the rate we're currently at, so that's probably just gonna keep getting worse. On the other hand, advances in medicine and things like that will certainly continue to improve quality of life in that sense. Human rights are getting better and better. I do fear that we're becoming too comfortable with laziness and convenience, but I hope that's a decline we don't continue to venture down. What’s the funniest actual name you’ve heard of someone having? I had a college classmate named Apple. Which charity or charitable cause is most deserving of money? Oh, come on now. It's not a competition. What game have you spent the most hours playing? So. When you type /played in World of Warcraft, it will show you your total playtime, and mine is YIKES. Like, around a year's worth of time of pure playing since 2014, I think. What’s the most comfortable bed or chair you’ve ever been in? I don't recall. What’s the hardest you’ve ever worked? When I did WiiFit religiously and lost around 40 pounds in HS. I was in the best shape of my life. What movie, picture, or video always makes you laugh no matter how often you watch it? Oh, there's certainly something. Probably some Unus Annus clip. That channel was a fucking blessing and a curse all the same. If you could have an all-expenses paid trip to see any famous world monument, which monument would you choose? Oh boy, I'd have to think, but probably somewhere in Rome or Greece. What’s the coldest you’ve ever been? I'm unsure. Probably jumping in the pool as a kid. My sisters and I would nag Dad to put the pool up on like the very first day of spring, so of course it was cold, but as a kid, I didn't mind that. What’s the most ridiculous thing you have bought? Hm. What’s the most depressing meal you’ve eaten? Ha ha yiiiikes, struggle foods... I don't know, but I've had some. What outdoor activity haven’t you tried, but would like to? Herping, though I change my mind on-and-off about it. I'm not very into the idea of disturbing wildlife just because they're cool and you wanna check them out. I'd totally go exploring with a camera, though, and not actually pick anything up. If you were given five million dollars to open a small museum, what kind of museum would you create? Hm... I actually think something like an art museum for the mentally ill would be pretty interesting and educational? Even something that could build empathy. Maybe mix some psychology in there to understand conditions.

[kookiecookiefics-blog]

Hiraeth (m) II kth : Chapter 1.

HIRAETH (M) II kth

~Pairing: Taehyung x SerialKiller!Reader 

~Genre: Angst, a lot of it. Smut. Gore. Violence. Fluff in between the lines. Slow build-up.

~Warnings: Blood, lots of it. Depictions of murder. Yoongi x Reader smut-ish. This chapter is pretty basic.

~words: 2.1k

~chapters: 1

~A/N: Yeah so, pretty basic for now. It is my first fan-fiction so I am kinda nervous hehe. I was supposed to post this in December but I totally forgot about my exams so here I am posting it a whole month later. Enjoy xoxo

~Beta readers: @moonpeachhy​ @smileyoongle​ @starry-sky-1​ and my one other precious friend. MY HUGE PILLARS OF SUPPORT OMG.

_______________________________________________________________________

You killed Jimin. You took a razor and slowly drove it into his carotid artery and watched him bleed. He couldn’t speak nor he could scream, he just bled until he died. You loved him even though he hurt you. You loved him way too much. He didn’t deserve you and anybody didn’t deserve him. This was 6 months ago.  

Jimin was the boyfriend you regretted but couldn't let go. He was sweet, charismatic, empathetic and a complete ladies' man, the latter being his weakness. He cheated, more than once and merged with his fate. 

The next one to go was your friend Namjoon. You knew he could not swim; you knew he was an extremely clumsy person, so under the guise of a friendly outing and successfully getting him drunk you pushed him off the cliff standing high above the sea; your hangout spot filled with that memories you cherished in the past. You could say that you and Namjoon were close friends. You did know each other since you were 16. He was a huge supporter and a kind friend. You were inseparable until he started ditching your company in favour of his girlfriend. She was all he talked about. You could not bear it so you shut him up. Yes, you missed him but getting rid of toxicity felt good. This was 4 months ago.

 Namjoon was smarter than you, wiser than you in all aspects. You were almost jealous.  

Almost.  

His presence made you feel weaker. A lesser person, more like a sidekick or a tail. It suffocated your instincts and thoughts to a point where the friendship turned into hatred and hence, Namjoon had to go.

For your sake, he just had to.                                                                       

 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Killing became a hobby. A thrilling hunt that boosted adrenaline in your veins. You killed mercilessly, luring a man through your charms, seducing a boy with your body. The glassy look in their eyes when you took their lives made you ecstatic. 

Just yesterday at the nightclub near the city you met a delicious prey. His sharp jaw highlighted his face, his eyes small but gazing and his luscious lips were to be craved for. You were tempted, so tempted. You wanted to take him then and there. You made your way towards the bar with a strut that made you intentions very clear. You caressed his shoulders, his strong arms the smooth skin on his palm. The slutty exchanges began. Your introductions along with limitless flirting downed with multiple shots of alcohol. 

“Yoongi, I like it, it rolls of your tongue” You cooed in his ear. You felt him tense under your touch. He could feel the thick atmosphere of sexual tension you were creating.  

Within the next hour. You had him sprawled in front of you, with you straddling his hips and his hands tied together with his tie to the cracked wooden bedpost of some dingy motel right around the same block. 

“Y/N....please, touch me I can’t take it” He begged. His cock straining hard over his trousers waiting for any kind of touch. 

“Shhhhhhh......quite now and behave or else...” You cockily say while grabbing the hem of your shirt and take it off in one swift motion. Your breasts perk up and nipples hard. You can see him drooling at the sight. You grabbed his collar and with a hard ripping tug you tore the buttons right of his shirt exposing his milky smooth skin and nipples perked from the cold outside and his arousal. You traced you palms over his abs and slowly traced it higher to pinch his nipples earning another moan from him. 

You bent over him grinding your ass over his raging boner. 

“Open your mouth” you ordered and he obediently agreed. Instantly grabbed his chin and met his tongue with yours in a heated kiss. Your tongue rolled into his warm cheeks tasting him and your lips leaving with a string of saliva connecting you two. You traced his earlobes with your tongue. “You’ve ruined my shirt” He breathes.  

“Oh! you won’t need it anymore” You chuckle into his ear as you slowly reach into your pocket to take out your newly sharpened swiss knife. 

You see the lust leave his eyes the moment he sees the shiny glint of the knife resting in your hand. 

“Woah! Is this some kind of kink that you’re not telling me about? I am sorry I am not comfortable with this” He snickers. 

“Blood kinda makes me squeamish” 

“Oh, sweet baby, this is not a kink” You clamp his mouth shut with your other hand and watch him trying to scream inside as you trace the knife over his chest leaving tiny cuts here and there. You treat his torso like a canvas while you see tears run down his face. He tries to free his hands but the pain makes it impossible. You torture him with your knife carving his skin with deep red sketches. You gently bite into his neck, licking over the bite with your tongue and soon you replace your tongue with the sharp point of you knife. You slowly push it inside and feel him shake under you, convulsing and the knife gently drives into his carotid spraying blood on your hands and the bed sheets below and soon comes to a still, lifeless state. 

You pull the knife out from his neck. The silver blade now shines with a deep shade of red. You get up from his corpse and walk over the bathroom cleaning all the stains of blood from your hands and torso and after grabbing your stuff you slowly head over to the body and tear a piece of his shirt as a souvenir, adding another to your growing collection. Still drowning in your desire for danger, you manage to clean your fingerprints from all the places you touched and head out, for a mess to be discovered soon, hopefully. 

                                                                                              “Miss! Excuse me! Miss!” a shout tears through your years almost petrifying you amidst your escape.  

The receptionist. 

Well not exactly a ‘receptionist’, more like a guy with a huge beer belly and a six-pack of Coors sitting on a creaky wooden desk, an exceptionally creepy man reeking of alcohol who probably owns this place. 

“A pretty lady like you done using the room so soon? The guy couldn't get it up eh? What a shame. Come here sit with me, have a beer! Let me show you a good time” he bellows out scratching his crotch and flashing his obvious boner under his pants. 

Ugh.  

You were not in the mood to kill two guys today. You liked a hunt, a game that gave you the adrenaline high and the power over someone. Pure entertainment to be honest. You did not want to wash your knife again. He is just going to be collateral damage; he was not going to keep quiet. You had to, you just had to kill him. 

You walked over to him, his grin getting wider and wider in the hope of getting some good time.  

“Do you promise to show me a good time, sir?” You say oh so innocently as well as cringing at your own choice of words as you take his bottle of beer from his hands to carefully take a swig of the bitter sparkly liquid.  

You set the bottle aside on his desk and move over to his chair to carefully straddle his thighs and carefully and immediately remove your shirt slowly completely teasing him. You feel his hard on pressing against your core, almost making you throw up. 5 minutes. This whole ordeal will pass in 5 minutes. Just go with the flow.  

Luckily pervs like him and crazy over boobs, you calmly unclasp your bra and smirk. His jaw dropped so wide it could touch the ground. 

“Wow I did not know you were this easy” He whispers grabbing a handful of your soft mounds. 

Without a second to waist you run your fingers through his hair and smash. 

Smash is head into the wall behind his chair with as much might you could muster. 

Again. 

Again. 

And again. 

Blood splashes over your breasts and neck. He’s obviously dead, no one can survive a blow like that multiple times. With the tissues lying next to the empty beer bottle you wipe the sprinkles of blood away. 

Phew. That was.... something you’ve never done before. It felt good. 

 It felt really good. 

You dress again, succeeding in avoiding all the blood that could’ve ruined your clothes. You clean the scene again like a routing and smash the beer bottle you had sip from into pieces to avoid all the fingerprints. That’s a wrap for today, I guess.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------                           

It’s been a month since Yoongi, your last victim. Life was getting boring. The café you owned at the library quarters did well but it was routine work of roasting the same beans and brewing the same coffee. You don’t even know why you were so invested in a café, you hate coffee, frankly, it is just bitter water. The café did well, apparently reading and coffee were a good pair. 

Libraries always seemed to be filled with smart boring people and hard-working students. You often wondered how picking up a book and reading it would feel like. 

 “Man is the most dangerous game of all”  

Yes, but it’s not a game when they’re so easy to latch onto. You want a hunt, not a fishing picnic.   

Life. The word is extremely versatile when it comes to definitions. Difficult, adventure, survival but today looks like it’ll be exciting.

You see him. 

Oh my.  

A tall man with golden honey skin and curly brown locks of hair. His sculpted face adorned with classy looking black-rimmed glasses and thin pouty pink lips. He is carrying a shit ton of notebooks along with a set of newspapers. You notice him all day. People come and go ordering their espressos or flat white and you catch yourself stealing glances at him.   

He is dedicated to his work, not distracting himself for hours researching something on and on via his newspapers and the glory of the internet. He seemed smart. A good target? Maybe. He does not seem like the kind who would be fooled or jump into bed with you, no he is too smart for that. You start your fantasy train, entrapping him, betraying him and killing him the same way you killed Yoongi. The chase you were imagining looked promising and very very exciting.  

Shit.  

And there your eyes finally meet. He sees you, doing nothing at the booth.  

It is time to scramble. You immediately reach for a mug to clean but your butterfingers successfully manage to drop it with a loud crash in a quiet library. You bend down to pick up the mess but you can feel all the eyes staring at you for the disturbance caused.   

You clean the mess up, picking the shattered pieces one by one and throwing them in the trash. What an embarrassing way to get his attention. 

 “Hi, excuse me, miss”  

The voice catches you by surprise. He is standing right there at the booth with his long brown jacket donned and all his stuff gathered. Startled you get up, wiping your hands hastily on the apron.   

“Hi, I am so sorry about that. How can I help you?” You say putting on a smile you could make as charming as possible.  

“Can I get a latte? A little stronger than usual and hold the sugar please.”  

“Sure. Your name please?” You say holding out a cup and a marker. 

 “Taehyung”  

And there you set off to make the best cup of coffee in your life.  

Taehyung.  

You had to impress him. Your fingers work delicately with the cup at every step and make the prettiest foam heart you could usually never make and hand it over to him.  

He thanks you with a cute little boxy smile. Oh, my God. You are infatuated. You had to see him again but then you see it. A couple of newspapers left forgotten on the counter.   

It was scribbled on.  

“Murderer went cold. Last victim: Min Yoongi”  

The articles were circled, notes were jotted down.

  This is going to be a GREAT game, isn’t it? 

[technoplaguearchive]

Cruel To Be Kind (2/4)

Midoriya just wants to be a hero, Bakugou's hero, but Bakugou isn't having any of it.

Pairing: MidoriyaxBakugou / BakuDeku Rating: Teen & Up Category: M/M Fandom: My Hero Academia | Boku No Hero Academia Originally Published: 2019/04/06 on AO3 Chapter: 2 of 4

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Midoriya Izuku could not be described as particularly imposing or tall. He was a little shorter than other men his age and he looked, for all intents and purposes, like a changeling child; all wide eyes, freckles, and innocence.

Bakugou was starting to believe in the changeling child theory a little more at this instant, seeing the usually cherubic face twisted with disappointment and grim determination. That green energy that sizzled over his body when he fought seemed to be harnessed wholly in Midoriya’s eyes, eyes that were slowly burning a hole in Bakugou’s face. He could feel the disappointment radiating off that small frame.

He didn’t need to deal with this shit. He didn’t need Deku’s holier than thou attitude tonight, especially not after the day he’d had. A day that had just pushed him more to come out when he couldn’t stand being alone in his house with his own thoughts. All day he had heard about how Deku would have handled the situation better and he couldn’t take it anymore. He didn’t need a reminder of the pretty perfect boy’s utterly perfect way of dealing with everything in life. He didn’t need to see that heartbroken look crossing his face when he realized Bakugou wasn’t backing down. And wasn’t that just dumb because all their history together should have taught Midoriya that Bakugou didn’t cave to anyone, let alone a nerd like him.

“Move, nerd.” He shoulders roughly past Midoriya and tries to blend back in with the crowd by the bar. Close to the door, easy to get away after he took this shot. Speaking of... he tosses it back with a throw of his head and leans into the wall behind him. Deku, annoyingly, is still attached to him and watching him with impossibly huge green eyes. What the fuck was with this guy’s eyes? Who could possibly express so much with just their eyes? In all their years together, it had been one of the things that had bothered him; those eyes were fucking unnerving. “The fuck you following me for, Deku,” he growls out when the shorter man doesn’t stop his staring.

At the mention of the hero’s name a few heads swivel in their direction and Midoriya’s cheeks turn a wonderful shade of pink, making the freckles stand out more. Bakugou can’t help staring at those little perfect dots. Everything about the nerd was perfect- and wasn’t that just stupidly fucking infuriating? He watches as the hero’s scarred hands cover his face, trying to hide himself from people now starting to pull out their phones. The girl closest to him has hers out the quickest and already has it pointed at them by the time he snarls in her direction and swipes it from her. “Your mother ever tell you it’s fucking rude to video someone in a private setting?” The girls face pales as he leans across her to drop the device into her purse and he smirks at the reaction. Good, let them be afraid. Midoriya, when he finally looks back to see if the idiot was still cowering, looks aghast at the entire situation and is still standing there like he must babysit Bakugou to make sure he behaves. Gross.

“Ka-Kacchan?”

Ugh, here it comes.

This time Midoriya tugs on his wrist as he says his name. Bakugou rips his hand away, more forcefully than needed truth be told, and stares down into the face that haunts him. “Kacchan, maybe you should calm down. I- I can take you home?” He looks so endearing and honest as he says it, making Bakugou’s stomach twist. “I know I just got here but I really don’t mind if you need a ride home because you seem awfully drunk and this really isn’t like you. Should you really be out right now? Do you have to work tomorrow? Oh! I guess if you did then you wouldn’t-“

Bakugou slaps a hand over his mouth and leans in close to growl, “I wouldn’t fucking be here if I had to work, nerd, so stop your mumbling. It’s annoying and you’re drawing extra attention.”

Midoriya’s eyes skate side to side to see if anyone was paying attention. They were not, meaning Bakugou was just being a bully again to cover his feelings. Gently, Midoriya pries the blonde’s hand from his mouth and holds it between his scarred ones. They weren’t necessarily rivals anymore, not like how they were before at least, but this is still too much for Bakugou to take so he pulls his hand away to stuff it in his pocket.

“Kacchan, please let me take you home. You’re not acting like yourself and I don’t think the public needs to see a top hero acting like this. It might hurt your rating.” Midoriya’s words are full of concern that Bakugou doesn’t want to hear. He didn’t need this stupid talk, he’s given it to himself at least a hundred times over the last six months and he ignores it each time too. The green haired doofus is still talking when Bakugou tunes back into his rant. “I didn’t think you’d ever start drinking like this. How long has this been going on? It doesn’t seem like it’s for fun. Kirishima said that you’ve been doing this a lot more recently but at home. I’m glad that at least you’re staying home for it, no one can get video of you if you’re not out-“

Bakugou tunes him out again. Once Deku got on a rant there was no stopping him until he reached a conclusion or wore himself out. He focuses instead on starting to count the freckles on the green haired man’s face, realizing after the fifth one that he was staring at the same freckle because they were all starting to blur. Fuck, okay, so the alcohol was catching up. The glass in his hand finds its way to the small ledge on the wall- shit that would hurt if someone ran into it, that couldn’t be safe- and he leans forward into Deku’s space to tower over him and maybe intimidate him into shutting the hell up.

The effect, to his dismay, is quite the opposite.

Midoriya’s eyes squint up at him beneath green lashes and he stares up into Bakugou’s face and Bakugou had to wonder what Midoriya was seeing right now that would make him utter the next stupid sentence of, “You drink like a fish dying for water.”

Okay, that was out of left field and possibly the stupidest thing he’d ever heard come from Midoriya's mouth, but the response from the blonde is immediate and just as dumb. “Then I’m a fucking fish,” he gives the other man a smile that’s all teeth & malice, “glub glub, motherfucker.”

Satisfaction.

Midoriya’s face contorts into confusion for several seconds as he processes the ridiculous phrase. However he opens his mouth again and ruins it all once more. “Let’s get you home, Bakugou. You’re obviously not feeling well,” he says as he reaches for Bakugou’s arm.

Drunk or not, years of training has honed Bakugou’s instincts to be razor sharp and he twists away, knocking back into the previously mentioned ledge and sending his glass tumbling. Midoriya is quick with his own reflexes and catches it several inches before it hits the floor, green energy crackling and dissipating as quickly as it came. Bakugou is impressed and can tell Midoriya notices when he looks back up at him. Seeing the small smile tug at the green haired man’s lips is enough to reign Bakugou’s interest in and he schools his features quickly into annoyance. His arm throbs with pain and he knows it’s going to bruise tomorrow, if not tonight. It certainly wouldn't be the worst injury every for him, just the dumbest.

Midoriya turns to leave and Bakugou isn't sure if he's relieved or not at seeing the man’s back to him. The indecision is short lived when he watches him push through the crowd to deposit the glass at the bar and then turn back. By the time that passive face graces his vision once more he's decided he's going to err on the side of relieved that he was leaving but now just annoyed that he came back.

Slowly, like reaching out to a wounded animal, Midoriya places a hand near the sore spot on Bakugou’s arm, testing for a reaction. That scarred hand slides down to cover the sore spot and Bakugou hisses a breath in between clenched teeth. He's torn between ecstasy at being touched and pain at feeling coddled. They stay that way for several long seconds; Midoriya’s hand gently covering his injury and Bakugou staring down at it like he's never seen it before.

In the end, his pride wins out when he sees a flash of pink and red in the corner of his eye. Looks like the rest of the group came to find them... Or more likely to find Deku so they could fawn over him some more.

The thought is like an electric current jolting through his body, a feeling like being hit by one of Kaminari’s stray blasts ricocheting from the place where Midoriya is touching him to his brain and back again. It's enough to bring him to his senses and cause him to pull away from Midoriya’s scorching touch. Just in time, too, as Ashido and Kirishima spot them and make a beeline towards them, their looks equal parts pitying and relieved.

Kirishima claps Bakugou on the shoulder and hauls him into a bone-crushing hug. ”Oh man, I’m so glad we found you guys!” The tall redhead pulls back to look into his friend’s face and asks the loaded question, ”You guys okay?”

Bakugou opens his mouth to snap out ”Of course I am” but is beaten to the chase by Midoriya, who gives the exact opposite answer; ”I think Bakugou drank a little too much, I was offering to take him home. He still lives in the same apartment right?”

Were they really fucking talking like he wasn't standing right there? Did he suddenly become invisible in the last five seconds?! He's about to snap at them when Kirishima nods to Midoriya’s question. ”Yeah, the big flat by that bombass ramen place and with that knock-off coffee chain I can’t remember the name of.”

Ashido pats Kirishima’s shoulder consolingly. “You can’t remember it because you drank a lot of rainbows tonight, honey.”

“Oh, yeah that sounds right,” Kirishima chirps with a bright grin.

How was the idiot so happy that he couldn’t remember the name of the coffee chain? - Actually, Bakugou can’t remember it either right now. Shit.

Midoriya’s hand wraps back around Bakugou’s arm while he’s distracted and he gives him a slight tug, pulling the unsuspecting blonde slightly off balance and into him. Midoriya seems slightly surprised by this, if his face is any indication, while Kirishima and Ashido look positively delighted. Midoriya lets out a little awkward laugh. “I’ll get Kacchan home then. You guys have a good night,” he offers with a wave as he starts trying to tug Bakugou along behind him. Shocked at the brazenness of the green haired shortie, Bakugou lets himself be tugged along for all of five steps before he shakes free and stumbles back into Kirishima, who thankfully catches him under the arms and releases him quickly. Midoriya’s face is sullen when he turns back to see where his ward had disappeared to. Bakugou swears he catches a flash of pain when Midoriya sees Kirishima helping him but it's gone as quick as it came, leaving the blonde sure he was just imagining it.

”I don't need you to take me home, ” he growls. To his own ears, the words are a little loose around the edges; a sure sign he was verging on needing to be done with drinking. When Midoriya reaches back out to him he slaps the hand away with a pop of sparks, feeling only mildly regretful when he sees the shock register on the green haired man’s face. He can’t recall ever rejecting Midoriya so violently after their reconciliation.

“Kacchan, please-”

“Quit with your fucking hero complex, Deku. I don’t need saving. I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity!”

The outburst seems to take even Midoriya by surprise and he claps his hands over his mouth. The sight would have made Bakugou laugh if he wasn’t so aggravated by the idiot’s need to protect him, as it stands he just wants to punch a hole in the nearest wall.

Kirishima, loveable idiot that he is, moves quickly between the pair with a large, yet forced, grin. “Come on guys, let’s just grab another drink and go back upstairs and hang out,” he turns to face the small green haired man beside him and gazes at him imploringly, “What do you say, Midoriya? I know you just got here, I’d hate to see you leave already.” Kirishima turns on the big sad eyes and Bakugou is glad he can only see the side of the idiot’s face. He knew that look well enough to know prolonged exposure almost guaranteed the receiver would do anything Kirishima asked. Deku, being the pushover that he was, would probably cave soon.

So it comes as a surprise to Bakugou when the nerd looks around Kirishima to pin him in place with a squinty-eyed stare. He could see that power in his eyes again, solely focused on him and determined. Bakugou feels a small shudder roll up his spine but swallows it down before it can overtake him. He knew the power that Deku possessed, knew if he wanted it to this would get ugly quick. Something feral in his mind snaps at that and Bakugou smirks, letting it overtake his face. Fine, if the nerd wanted to play then they’d play.

“Yeah Deku, you just got here,” he sing-songs smugly, “go hang out with everyone. I don’t need a babysitter, I’m a big boy.” Somewhere to his left he hears Ashido’s curse of “Oh fucking hell boys” then Kirishima is grabbing Bakugou around the waist to keep him away from Midoriya. He wasn’t even aware he’d moved towards him.

Midoriya nods to Kirishima who releases Bakugou and backs off. Some silent signal of ‘I got this’, which was just aggravating since when were they close enough to read each other? That feral beast in Bakugou’s head rises again, not liking that Kirishima was buddying up- no, no it didn’t like that Midoriya was getting close to Kirishima.

“I’m fucking out of here,” he snarls as he turns to exit their small group. It’s a fucking wonder they hadn’t drawn more of a crowd, as it is the people immediately surrounding their group trip over themselves to move away from him.

He sidles up to the bar again and, spotting a few drinks sitting there, grabs a shot and downs it. Fuck whoever it belonged to, he needed it more. The blue haired boy next to him gapes in disbelief and Bakugou tosses him a sneer for the trouble. A scarred hand wraps around his arm in a vice-grip from behind and starts hauling him back through the crowd, towards the exit of the club that he knew deposited into a shitty grimy alleyway. He didn’t really want to think right now about how he knew that alley was there or how gross it is, he just knew that was the only way out that direction. Which was baffling; wasn’t it making more of a scene to drag him through this crowd?

When the door closes behind them with a small yet ominous click, Midoriya throws Bakugou across the alley so they’re face-to-face. He can still hear the click of the door in his mind, the note of finality in it. So it was gonna be a fight, was it? Good, he could use a fight.

He steps forward towards the other man only to stop when he speaks. “I don’t want to fight you, Kacchan. You’re not even walking straight.” Bakugou scoffs at this and stumbles back into the wall behind him. “See,” Midoriya yells, “you can’t do anything right now without help. Just let me take you home.” He takes a tentative step towards Bakugou and reaches out, only to let his hand drop back down. “Please, Katsuki,” he whispers pleadingly.

That voice is his undoing in this moment. How dare Midoriya think him incapable! Did the nerd think he was better than him? Did he think he couldn’t take care of himself? He didn’t need saving, he wasn’t some helpless fucking idiot. And he was going to prove it.

Bakugou snarls and steps towards the green haired man before him, reaching out and steadying himself on his shoulder. He leans in close so they’re almost face to face and whispers with a growl, “Listen here, you little shit-“

Midoriya rears back and shoves Bakugou off of him. “No! You listen!” There’s desperation on his face, causing Bakugou to be stunned into silence. “You’re not fine! Why won’t you let me take you home? I thought we were past this, Kacchan.” Midoriya looks away now, ashamed, as if he’s said too much. His cheeks are stained a pretty pink that draws Bakugou’s eye. He bet they felt as warm as they looked... Nope, not the issue right now. He had to remember he was mad at Deku.

The nerd is still talking, rambling now about their past and how he thinks Bakugou can do better than this and what’s wrong because this isn’t like him- What the fuck did Deku know anyways? He didn’t know what kind of stress Bakugou was under!

Finally his last tether to staying any semblance of calm in this moment snaps and he lashes out with a poorly aimed explosion towards Midoriya, who sidesteps it easy and grabs Bakugou by the arm to sling him back into a wall. Bakugou is stunned momentarily before he regains his senses and turns to lash out again but Midoriya beats him to the punch, grabbing Bakugou’s fist and pushing him back again. This time he follows him back into the wall and holds the angry blonde in place with a forearm to the chest, faces close together. Bakugou takes the time to study the stern set to the green haired man’s brow, the way the space between his brows crinkled together and folded a freckle in half, the way his eyes looked sad even when they were angry-

“Kacchan you’re not even listening to me.” He presses his arm into his chest a little firmer for emphasis and sighs. “Why won’t you let me help you? We’re friends,” he trails off sadly and looks away aimlessly down the alley, “I thought we were finally friends.”

“Tch.”

Midoriya’s head snaps back at the signature noise.

“I’m not your charity case, Deku. Don’t know how many times I have to tell you that.”

That spark lights back up in the other man’s eyes and Bakugou can feel the deranged grin straining his face. He loved it when the nerd was ready to fight, it was better than that pathetic pitying look he usually wore. Maybe he could just push him over the edge and get this itch out of his system...

“I’m not some fragile little doll you need to protect like all your other friends,” later he’d realize he had confirmed they were friends, but not right now, “I don’t need fucking Deku to swoop in and save me. You’ve been doing this shit all our lives and I don’t fucking need your help. I don’t need anyone’s fucking help.”

He can see that fire snap and crackle in Midoriya’s eyes and the grin threatens to break his face now. Fucking finally.

Midoriya shoves against Bakugou before releasing him and jumping back in a crackle of green lightning, the energy dissipating as soon as he lands. Bakugou, meanwhile, can feel the sparks in his palms. He wanted to blow something up, to show he didn’t need anyone’s help. He didn’t need the pity. Midoriya has other plans though.

”Stop being like this!” The outburst startles Bakugou into letting the explosions building in him to die down and he straightens. Midoriya isn't done yet. ”Stop acting like you're on your own when you're not! You have friends, let us help you. We care about you, you idiot!” Bakugou can see the nerd sniffling now, tears pooling in the corners of his bright eyes. ”I care about you” he whispers, the quiet of the alley letting the words carry and caress Bakugou’s ears.

The look on the blonde’s face is one of shock and confusion which causes a derisive chuckle to slip from Midoriya. “Of course you don’t get it. You don’t think of anyone but yourself.” When Bakugou opens his mouth to refute this statement Midoriya holds a hand up to stop him. “You’re cold and unfeeling and blind, Kacchan. I’ve known this for awhile now and I’ve accepted it. We all have.”

Bakugou can feel the wetness building in his eyes and it agitates him, spiraling him into a frustrated rage. He wasn’t crying! He wouldn’t cry! Fuck this nerd! What did Midoriya know anyways?

“What is that supposed to mean, Deku?”

“Kirishima’s been in love with you since high school and you just let him keep acting like that-“

“Kirishima knows the score. You think it didn’t come up after all this time? You think I’d just let my best friend play the fool? Do you really think that low of me?” He doesn’t want to admit it but if Midoriya really did think so little of him, he didn’t know what he’d do. He’d spent so long trying to prove himself better than everyone only for Midoriya to shrink him right back down to the level of that scared kid who didn’t think he’d ever be good enough. “Well you know what? Fuck you! I’m not as fucking heartless as you make me out to be! You and everyone else think they know me and you don’t!”

Midoriya just looks exhausted now, the fight having seemingly drained out of him at seeing Bakugou so desperate and worked up. “We do know you. I know you, you big idiot. I’ve known you my whole life. Who else would know you better?,” he rubs his hands over his face and throws his arms wide, “You play like you don’t need anyone but you do, Kacchan! You more than anyone, needs someone, so just let me help! Let me just take you home. I don’t know why you’re getting so defensive about this.” His arms drop to his sides as he lets out a long-suffering sigh.

Bakugou’s temper snaps again, a chord pulled too tight and on the verge of breaking altogether. “Because you and every other fucking wannabe treat me with kid gloves!” He stalks towards Midoriya on the opposite side of the alley and pushes into him until the smaller man’s back hits the wall. “In case you haven’t noticed, Deku,” he sneers, “I’m not a little kid. I’m not some fragile little boy that needs a hero.”

Their faces are close now, too close almost, but close enough for Bakugou to feel Midoriya’s panting little breaths hit his chin and see his own reflection in his eyes. When he reaches up to place his hands on either side to cage the smaller man in, he can hear the soft little half-gasp that slips past his lips and he represses a shudder at it. God, this was too good of a look on him…

Midoriya swallows thickly and Bakugou unconsciously tracks the movement with a predatory gaze, red eyes burning with barely controlled anger and something he didn’t like to admit out loud. It’s the unnamed part that is his downfall, however, as Midoriya takes full use of the distraction to punch Bakugou hard in the stomach and send him backwards enough to put distance between them. When Bakugou finally gets control of himself several seconds later Midoriya is staring him down in determination.

“I know you’re not a little kid anymore. I’ve known that for awhile now. You’re strong and confident in ways you didn’t used to be.” He lowers his fist and stands up straight to stare Bakugou in the eyes. “I wouldn’t love you so much if you were that same kid.”

There’s a static hum starting back up in his ears, similar to when he’d seen Midoriya show up on that balcony, except there’s nowhere to fall back into and no Kirishima to hold onto to ground him. So he falls backwards until he hits the wall behind him, fingers gripping into the old brick as if that would be enough to ground him and quiet the insistent fucking buzzing in his head.

No. No no no no. Fucking no.

Midoriya did not just say what he thinks he did, did he? He couldn’t have. This has to be something he’s hearing from all the alcohol. He just imagining this shit and hearing what he wants to hear. His drunk ass brain is conjuring shit up because there is no way Izuku Midoriya just casually tossed out that he loved Bakugou. And if he did, he had to have meant it in some different way-

“Why else do you think I care so much what happens to you, Kacchan? Why else would I deal with your shitty attitude all the time and defend you to the public?”

Oh fuck had he been muttering out loud? Shit, he was around the nerd too much if he had picked up on that habit. Fuck his drunken ass brain he didn’t need this shit right now. Although it might have been only natural, they did grow up together and certain things were bound to rub off on each other. But no, none of that nonsense right now, he needed to address Deku’s completely idiotic ass statement.

“No one asked you to defend me, you stupid nerd. I didn’t ask you to care, either.”

Midoriya barks out a laugh then snaps his mouth closed quickly, as if he hadn’t meant for that to be out loud. When he lowers his hands there’s a sad putting smile on his face that raises Bakugou’s hackles.

“No one had to ask me. That’s not how love works. I just…. love you anyways.” He takes a tentative step towards the blonde then stops when Bakugou backs against the wall with a snarl. “Can you please let me take you home now so you can sleep this off and forget it all happened?”

What kind of shit was that? Who gives a fucked up love confession then tries to act like it didn’t happen? Did Midoriya not want to love him? Well screw that. If Bakugou had to be in love with this nerd for the past five years then he had to suffer too! And this was hands down the worst confession ever. This was not how he ever anticipated any of this going down. He had a plan, dammit! He was going to show up to Midoriya’s house with flowers and that stupid candy he liked and there was a speech he needed to work out and and- NO!

“Fuck your confession, nerd. No you can’t take me home and fuck you for trying to treat me like an invalid.” With one last growl he shoves off the wall and towards the door to go back inside.

“Where are you going,” Midoriya cries out, voice high with desperation.

“Back inside. I need another fucking drink.” He casts a scathing look over his shoulder. “Don’t fucking follow me.”

Bakugou can feel Midoriya’s eyes on him as he drags himself back into the bar, adrenaline drained and leaving him tired and foggy. Another drink would fix this. Or maybe a few more. However many it took to forget this entire fucking night had happened.

[redvelvetreel]

Red Velvet Reel 6.5: Cele-BRAT-ion!

                 [Fic Directory]

Pairing: [Married] Spicyhoney (Underfell Papyrus x Underswap Papyrus)

Summary: WELL THEN. Now that they’ve got Swapfell squared away, time to get Undertale to toe the line.

Characters: Edge (Underfell Papyrus) & Stretch (Underswap Papyrus) & Red (Underfell Sans) & Blue (Underswap Sans) & Classic (Undertale Papyrus) & Comic (Undertale Sans)

Contains: Mpreg/Skelepreg! Meeting up in a (sports) bar! Everyone talks a lot and never shuts up! (More) Stupid Fellverse posturing and antagonism! Lots of headcanons! Culture clash! 

Rating: Teen and up! (I guess?)

Note:  1 more part left for this installment! <3 Thanks so much for sticking through this with me!! ;w;

Underswap Papyrus – Stretch         Underswap Sans –  Blue Underfell Paprus – Edge                     Underfell Sans – Red Undertale Papyrus – Classic              Undertale Sans – Comic

“No.”

Edge abruptly returned to the table, gesturing over his shoulder incredulously as he stared at Red.

“Huevón!” Red slammed his fist into the table, smiling broadly. Everyone jumped, but there was a note of admiration in his voice, “Whatta bitch! Hate that guy! The fuck! Congrat-fuckin’-lations!”

“What does that mean?” Edge hummed in absentminded agreement, drumming his fingers on his crossed arms restlessly, “Así no más? They let it drop, and we win?” He didn’t wait for Red to answer, shifting with nervous energy. “Ugh, we’re so out of practice, and they’re so weird about it!”

“Rrrelax, Ñaño.” Red shrugged nonchalantly, an easy smile on his face, “Do what we do. Wait ‘n see ‘n fuck ‘em up if necessitated, yeah?”

“Yeah...” Edge didn’t look convinced, but he sighed as Stretch put an arm around his shoulders. His mouth quickly quirked into a smile as he put his arm around his husband’s waist, sounding pleased, “You were fantastic! Truly a ‘charm’ offensive!”

“BOSSASS, Stretch!” Red’s smile stretched even wider as he banged his hands down again, pointing at him approvingly. “Ya healed Pup! Goddamn! Then tell lil’ bastard to fuck off with a hug!”

“Black didn’t know what to make of that!” Edge sounded gleeful, a mischievous sparkle in his socket as he turned to Red with a smirk. He kept his arm around Stretch’s waist in an unusually public display of prolonged affection, so he must have been really impressed. “I thought he was actually going to accept out of spite!”

“Hell yeah!” Red gestured that his mind was blown, “Lil’ bastard ain’t know who he’s fuckin’ with! Stretch’s rock solid!“

Edge scoffed, “He’s soft by choice, not lack of ability- as I’ve told you hundreds of times!”

“Whatever,” Red drawled, resting his chin and looking bored, “Yer biased as fuck. Damn! Now I wanna fuck somethin’ up! Ya any good to rumble, Stretch?”

“Of course he is!” Edge looked insulted, “You think I would marry someone who wasn’t?!”

“Ah, yes,” Classic leaned back and played with the straw in his drink absently, “You two like to talk about not so good things like they are very good things, even though they absolutely are not.”

“I’m not taking any shit from you!” Edge’s demeanor snapped into something more hostile as he turned towards Classic, pulling away to point at him dramatically. “What the fuck were you thinking?! You tryin’ to get me dusted?!”

Classic’s eyes bulged out of his sockets, spitting out the mouthful of his drink on the table, “Hah?!”

Red pointedly leaned over, holding a napkin daintily as he dabbed at the spot. He cleared his throat, pitching his voice higher in obvious imitation of Classic, “Let me just-“

Blue jabbed him in the ribs hard enough Red hit the table with a bang, “Knock it off, asshole! Haven’t you had your fill of violence and arguments yet?!”

“Nope!” He answered petulantly, throwing the napkin in Blue’s face. “And you hush up, backstabber!”

“Me?!”

“Yeah!” Red gestured at the door with palpable frustration, “Ya cain’t speak ‘gainst me till after they gone! Ya tryin’ to get me killed? Yer bro’s hubby?! Yer own goddamn fuckin’ sobrino?!”

Blue blanched.

“No?!” Red sneered, turning away with disgust, “Then shut up ‘n listen fer once in yer fuckin’ life!”

“I-“ Classic gestured at himself helplessly, “I don’t understand what you’re talking about?!”

“I just told you!” Edge let out an angry huff, crossing his arms over his chest, “It’s a Fellverse thing! Magic is everything to Fell! If I can’t use my magic, I’m weak! If I’m weak, I can’t protect nothing I got!”

“Yeah!” Red crossed his arms over his chest, mirroring his brother with a sour expression, “Then everythin’s up fer swipin’, includin’ Honey ‘n the brat! S’when whose backin’ ya up gotta look real dread! If y’ain’t look united, then y’ain’t shit! So they don’t got not reason to hold back, ya dig?”

Classic looked almost queasy, “Black and Slim would never-“

“I don’t fuck with chance!” Edge slammed his fist into the table, looking angry, “I don’t know where they stand or what they want, so I had to make myself clear! My...” Edge glanced at Stretch, drawing a line with his finger.

“Line in the sand.” Stretch did not want to be drawn into this at all. He sat down and slid over to his old spot as unobtrusively as possible.

“Of course, now you’re helpful!” Edge still complained loudly, shaking his head. He was mostly talking to Classic, but made sure to look at Blue too, “At least wait until mi hijuepu enemies are gone before you are questioning me! And! Por el amor del Ángel, don’t ever ask me to apologize! Carever-“

“Ojo!” Red’s voice took on an oddly stern tone, “Ain’t no need t’be nasty. If they ain’t gonna help, they gonna sit pretty ‘n stay outta it, right?”

The Fell monster didn’t look the least bit abashed at all the incredulous looks. Which was maybe to be expected, but was still incredibly surreal. Red scolding anyone, let alone Edge, about their language?

“Yeah?” Red prompted again, moving his hand in impatient circles. “Baby Blue?”

“Ok.” Blue nodded quickly, still not quite able to meet Edge’s eyelights, “I won’t get involved. ...Sorry.”

Stretch didn’t like this- he wasn’t sure what Edge and Red were trying to prove against Classic and Blue, of all people, but he knew he couldn’t say anything. Even if it seemed excessive, Edge was acting out of a sense of paternal duty and insecurity. Especially after those impassioned lectures of being publicly supportive, he wasn’t sure what he should do...

“Class-“ Red started to say, only to be cut off by a sound that was equal parts distressed and irritated.

“I don’t want to answer!” Classic shook his head, a stubborn set to his unsure smile, “I can’t give you my blanket approval- because I do not approve! And I cannot condone the use of such forceful methods!” He sighed heavily, looking tired, “You could have handled things with Slim much, much better, Edge! You didn’t need to escalate it to violence- and just because Stretch healed him doesn’t mean it didn’t happen! I think if you just-“

“Papyrus,” Edge leaned on his hands, an undertone of frustration to every punctuated word, “I’m not asking for your permission- I’m going to do whatever I feel is necessary to keep my baby safe.”

Comic cracked one socket open, but didn’t entirely drop his pretense of sleeping, “Don’t you think you’re worried about the wrong guy?”

The Fell monsters exchanged a look. “Nah, ‘cause the Lil’ Tyrant gave in, ‘n so they gave us an out.” Red put his face in his hands, worrying at his sockets restlessly, “They’re ‘duty bound’ to be ‘not enemies.’ Honor ain’t mean nuthin’ back home, but them Swapfell’s’re different ‘bout that shit. Sides, Puppydog ‘n us got history.”

“Oh?” Comic closed his socket with a nonchalant shrug, “Guess honor’s not for chumps, and his goody-two shoes act is believable.”

Equal parts impressed and annoyed, Red’s grin was razor sharp, “Point is, esfinge, that we know Fell, ‘n we know what they’re gonna do. The real concern’s both of yas.” He pointed at both of them with the same hand, “When shit hits, what’cha gonna do?”

Edge crossed his arms over his chest, eyelight bright and focused, “I just need to know if I need to protect Pancake from you.”

Classic put his head down into his hands, muffling what sounded like a frustrated scream. Which, fair enough- Stretch has no idea how he would handle being on the receiving end of this. Just as quickly, Classic was sitting up again, looking like he had just come up with a brilliant idea.

“How about a compromise?” He asked brightly, “I know you know that I would never, ever purposely hurt your babybones! And I absolutely would never ever want to inadvertently cause them harm!”

He crossed his arms, looking torn, “But I can’t just sit here while you maim, humiliate, or otherwise fight with someone just because they make you nervous! That’s a terrible way to handle feelings of anxiety, and will undoubtedly lead to more problems than it solves! So, let’s just not!”

Edge tilted his head, looking cautiously curious, “Not what?”

“Not stay! Let’s just leave! You can tell me you don’t feel safe, and I will escort you out to make sure no one lays a hand on you or Pancake!” Classic held up a hand at the dubious expressions he was receiving, literally waving concerns off, “Let me finish! That way, you can stay physically safe and feel safe, too! And it will still give you the ability to rectify bad behavior- if these people won’t respect your wishes, then they are probably people you don’t want around Pancake right now anyway.”

Classic puffed out his chest with a broad smile, “If it makes you feel better, I can also guarantee I will do my best to find a solution while you are not there! You see, I am very good at conflict mediation, and very stubborn! And Sans is very good at getting out of situations he doesn’t want to be in, so he can guarantee a quick retreat!”

“So...” Edge’s expression soured, “You want me to flee-“

“He wants to be your bodyguard.” Stretch cleared his throat, still not sure if he should comment, but it seemed innocuous enough. “Hustle you out of danger until the coast is clear.”

That changed their attitude. Edge finally sat down next to his husband, arms still right over his chest as he looked at Red. “Bodyguard.”

“Maybe.” Red drummed his fingers on the table, “Switch it. Y’ain’t gotta get your claws dirty, good, ‘n he’s pretty reliable. ‘N tall...”

“I am all of those things!” Classic agreed with a proud toss of his head.

“It would never work with Fell.” Edge started cracking his knuckles, looking down at the tabletop, “They wouldn’t-“

“Ain’t no Fell!” Red whistled loudly to get get his brother’s attention, “Puppydog ‘n Lil’tyrant ain’t no challenge no more, d’fuck else ya worryin’ ‘bout, huh? Ghosts?”

For whatever reason, Edge flinched at that. Hard.

“Edge.” Classic’s voice was gentle. “I won’t let you down.” He slipped off his mitten, holding his pinkie out with an unusually solemn expression, “I promise I won’t let Pancake get hurt under my watch.”

The Fell monster sighed, long and weary, but hooked his own pinkie back, “I’ll let you try. If I need to get involved afterwards, I will- but fine. I’ll let you try first.”

When he made a move to pull back, Classic kept his hand in place. “Sans!” He hissed to his side, jostling his brother with his elbow, “You too.”

Comic took his sweet time sitting up and reaching over to hook his own finger around Edge’s finger. “I’ll back Pap up, and getcha out. If I need to.” He said simply, expression carefully neutral. Well, that was about what Stretch expected- Red didn’t look surprised either.

Comic pulled back a moment later, resettling himself on the cushions with a sigh, “But you should know who your friends are by now.”

“Yes, fine, friends-“ Edge tried to shrug the comment off, but it clearly bothered him enough he felt the need to justify himself. “But I can’t take the same risks as if it were just me.” He managed to keep himself from touching his scarred socket, but he picked at the scars on his knuckles absently, “Friends can still hurt you, even if they don’t mean to- sometimes they’re even worse than enemies. If I’m wrong-“

“Yeah, well-“ Stretch cut in with a cough, putting a discreet arm around his husband’s waist, “We do what we gotta do to protect ourselves and the people we love, right?” Edge didn’t give him much of a reaction, but didn’t resist as he was tugged a little closer.

“We never actually toasted Pancake yet, did we?” Blue was unusually hesitant, still chastened from earlier, but clearly desperate for a topic change. “We should!”

“Yes!” Classic clapped his hands, looking absolutely delighted, “A toast for the baby! And, because I know how much Edge values action over words-“ He opened up his STAT menu, withdrawing 200 g from his gold pouch. “I will fund it!”

“Hell fuckin’ yeah-“ Red perked up immediately, moving his mug to his new spot with magic, “Gonna get chumado as fuuuuck-“ He poured the remainder of Black’s drink in his mug, and moved Slim’s glass closer.

Classic put the gold on the table with obvious flourish, pushing it in their direction, “A gift from us- mostly me, but this is technically everyone else’s money, too- to you... all! Happy impending babybone’s birthday!”

“I-“ Edge looked surprised for a moment, touched and guilty and confused rolled into a too open expression, before he buried it down with a devious smirk. “How very generous!”

He curled his hands under his chin like a cartoon villain, tone innocent in a way that could only be deceptive, “I can only wonder how you’ll top this at Pancake’s shower party! I’m looking forward to see what kind of unique and lavish gift you’ll bring, ‘Uncle Classic.’”

“Uncle?!” Classic’s expression lit up, eyes becoming large hearts as he gasped dramatically. “I get to be Uncle Classic?!”

“If you want,” Stretch barely managed to suppress a relieved sigh, glad everything seemed to be much less tense, “Unless you wanna be called something else?” He glanced at Blue and Red, but neither seemed to be particularly bothered by sharing that title. “We were thinking ‘Sir’ might be fun too, like a knight or something-“

“Wowie, Sir Papyrus!” Classic’s eyelights positively sparkled, “I’ve always dreamed of being a knight!” He shook himself free of the sparkles- literally, although Comic didn’t seem to mind having some on the top of his head- before continuing earnestly, “Of course! I cannot let Pancake down! I will get them the absolute best present of them all!

“Because! I am great at a good many things, especially creating artificially high standards that are difficult to reach! By everyone, sometimes including even me!” Classic smiled broadly before his face became incredibly blank, “What event is this? A baby what?”

“A baby shower! It’s a human tradition!” Blue perked up and launched into a long, detailed explanation Stretch started to tune out immediately. This was more of what he had been hoping for the entire evening, honestly- he was relieved everyone finally seemed to be getting along again and having a good time.

Well, almost everyone. Edge always had a tendency to lay his acting on a little too thick when he was preoccupied, and there was stiff tension to his spine. Stretch would be looking into that at the end of the night. (Early tomorrow morning?)

For now, though, he was content to enjoy warm conversation with good company and this delicious honey mead.

[Part 1 ] [Part 2 ] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5 - Here! ] [Part 6]

[timeisacephalopod]

Moral Alignment

My parents were watching some dumbass reality cop show and I got an idea lmao. So here’s a soul mate thing with Sam/Steve because I really don’t write them enough. This is basically just a long ass crack fic tbh.

Steve kind of hates being a cop. When he was a kid he had all these delusions about saving people and being a good person but all he does is deal with people being assholes and do a lot of running mostly. And the useless calls because some parent wants to teach their fucking kid a lesson. Ugh, if he never gets another one of those calls it’ll be too soon. At the moment he’s stuck patrolling around, which is literally doing nothing for a stupid amount of time but whatever. 

He’s driving down a darker street just to waste his own time when he notices a guy walking along the side of the road dancing a little to whatever is playing in the headphones he’s wearing. When he walks under a street light Steve’s eyebrows go up because wow that guy is hot.

So, like a complete moron, he pulls off to the side of the road where the guy is walking, noting that he’s pulled his headphones off and Steve asks for his name. Technically its something he can do not that he does it often because he thinks its mostly a waste of time but it works for him now. Or at least it does until the guy looks at him, going from somewhat confused to absolutely irritated in a matter of moments as he feels it too. 

That warm, pleasant feeling in the heart that indicates you’ve met your soul mate but there’s also the words, barring that. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” the guy says and Steve’s cheeks heat a little in embarrassment. He had always sort of hoped his words would be wrong but apparently he’s not so lucky. No one ever is but it’d be nice to cheat the system given his um... rocky start to things.

“I mean I’m not that bad...” he says in his own defense.

“‘Not that bad’? You just randomly stopped a man minding his own damn business to ask for his name and you have that nasty mustache,” he says.

Steve touches his face gently, “I busted my razor this morning and I haven’t had time to buy a new one,” he says. “And I only pulled over because I thought you were cute,” he adds, a little embarrassed.

His soul mate rolls his eyes and honestly its the most dramatic thing he’s ever seen and he knows Tony Stark personally. And Clint, for that matter. And Bucky. “You pulled me over because you think I’m attractive? You are a complete waste of my tax dollars,” he says, arms crossed in annoyance.

“I can’t even argue with that,” he mumbles. “I’m a shit cop. Also my name is Steve Rogers, and I still kind of want yours. For soul mate purposes, not cop purposes,” he clarifies.

“Sam Wilson. Are you always this easy to throw off guard? Because that seems like a bad trait for a cop,” he points out.

Steve sighs, “I am unflappable. I once had a woman throw actual turds and vomit at me and I was fine, everything worked itself out. But talking to people I find attractive? Never been good at it.” God knows how the hell he and Peggy managed a relationship when he constantly tripped over his words. She found it endearing until she met Angie but Steve thinks they’re a sweet couple. Very loving.

Sam squints, “and what, you never find the people you arrest attractive?” he asks.

Yeah, its happened. “Usually I have a partner with me so you know, he does stuff. Not much stuff, he’s a way worse cop than me. Once we were trying to deescalate a situation and he hid behind the trash cans with the civilians and left me to it. Thankfully raging drug addict with a gun is not my type.” Bucky though... should not be a cop. Usually Natasha sticks him on desk duty because his ability to organize paperwork is actually pretty good.

“Are there any not shit cops that you work with?” Sam asks, squinting again.

“Pretty much everyone but me and Bucky. Ever seen Brooklyn Nine Nine? We’re Hitchcock and Scully even though we both want to be Rosa or Holt. In that order.” They suck at the job mostly because they have no passion for it, which is what makes anyone good at their job, but now they’re kind of stuck with this so whatever. 

It pays the bills and sometimes Steve gets to rescue kittens from trees so that’s decent. That time he had to chase that one woman through a haunted house with his easily scared best friend and completely useless cop though is far less ‘decent’ as far as career choices go. Bucky damn well knew they were all fake, why did he keep screaming at the ghosts? And everyone thought they were wearing costumes. Fuck Halloween, Steve’s tired of being mistaken for a stripper gram.

“Hmm,” Sam mumbles. “Well, at least you don’t seem racist even if you’ve got all the makings of a ‘go back to your own country’ starter kit going on,” he says, waving an arm around at the car and his face. Steve so resents that but the mustache is a little much. When Natasha saw him this morning she told him he looked like he’d be willing to dry fuck a truck’s tailpipe and Bucky laughed so hard he almost choked to death on his donut.

“Did I really give off that racist of a vibe? I want to know because I don’t really want to give that vibe off,” he says seriously. He might hate being a cop but he doesn’t want to be intimidating either, especially not in a racist way. Though if anyone knew about the Princess Bubblegum and Marceline bobble heads in his car they’d probably not find him intimidating in any kind of fashion.

Sam gives him a look that indicates he’s 200% done with Steve and he really doesn’t know what he did aside from generally being a useless cop. “You pulled over because a black man was dancing around a little on the side of the road? I know I’ve got the rhythm of a drunk white girl grinding on some guy to ‘shake it off’ by Taylor Swift in a club but that’s not illegal,” he says.

Steve lets out a groan and drops his head to the steering wheel, ignoring the sharp ‘beep’ that sounds from the car. “Oh my god you thought I racially profiled you,” he mumbles.

“Bingo,” Sam says. “But... in your slight defense I’d arrest me if I witnessed that too,” he admits. “And also in your slight defense I guess I could have looked like someone you were trying to arrest.” He’s intentionally reaching but its sweet that he’s trying to let Steve off the hook especially since he out and out admitted to pulling him over because he thought he was cute.

He should probably find a new job. “So um. When we tell people how we met we’re telling them I heroically saved your life,” he says.

Sam snorts, “hell no, we’re telling them the truth- that your useless cop ass pulled me over to get my name because you thought I was cute and what were you even going to do after that?” he asks.

Steve winces again, “I didn’t think that far ahead, I was just hoping to strike up a conversation and get your number,” he admits.

“Alright honey, I’m taking pity on you because you are clearly a clueless, yet harmless, human being. Don’t hit on people in uniform, they’ll feel obligated to flirt back. What are you doing?” he asks and Steve lets out another groan.

“God damnit I am not usually this clueless, I swear. I think I might have sensed the soul mate thing because I’m not this stupid normally.” Jesus, he can’t believe he hadn’t thought of that. Thankfully Sam is the brains of this operation of god knows where this would go.

**

Bucky grins, enthused by Steve’s utter embarrassment regarding how he met his soul mate. “Natasha!” he calls, “come here, Steve’s got his best ‘dumb gay slut’ moment yet and it involves his soul mate!” And it’ll probably be his last so he’s pleased that this one is a damn good one.

Natasha immediately sticks her head out of her office, “on a scale of Clint and Phil meeting to you and Tony meeting how good is it?” she asks.

“Better than me and Tony, for sure,” he says and Nat grins, plodding over immediately. Yeah, he would too if the story was better than that time Bucky met Tony literally falling out of the sky and using Bucky as a cushion. He pities Tony for having the noise he made permanently tattooed on his body. Its worse than that noise in that song by Imagine Dragons- Radioactive- after breathing in the chemicals. The good news is that Steve finally topped his ridiculous story with his own.

He explains to Natasha what happened and from start to finish its a damn ride. Natasha snickers, considering Sam for a moment and the man is brave because he stares back. Sometimes when they have trouble getting confessions they send in Nat and most people are so scared they give up basically five seconds into her stare down. “So,” she says, “where do you fit in the Moral Alignment Test?” she asks.

Steve gives Sam a panicked look because this is a trick question- they all made up their own types years ago but Sam just smirks. “I’m chaotic asshole,” he says and Steve’s eyebrows fly up as Bucky gasps.

“You’re my mortal enemy. I’m lawful scared,” he says.

Sam squints at him for a moment before he turns to Steve, “I hope you don’t like this one much because I hate him already. Where do you sit on the alignment?” he asks Steve, who sighs.

“One, that’s the best friend I told you about. The Scully to my Hitchcock even though he’d rather be the Scully to my Mulder. Actually he’d be Mulder. Anyways I’ve been told I’m lawful super slut,” he mumbles, obviously hoping that would get lost in the rest.

Sam snorts, “guess that explains you ‘dumb gay slut’ reputation. Actually, you know what, pulling over to question me because you thought I was hot gave you away. And your lawful scared best friend needs to go,” he adds.

“Don’t be rude, I became a cop so I can arrest annoying people and you’re getting on my nerves,” Bucky tells him.

“How’s that going for you?” Sam asks, deadpan.

“See any annoying people around here?” he asks and from the look on Steve’s face he’s just pulled an Icarus, except he’d flying into the sun, not too close to it.

“I see you,” Sam says, power bombing him verbally through the precinct floor. Well, ok. He set himself up for that.

[wconnorschmitz-blog]

#3: Fall of the Cubicle Queen

It’s been a few weeks.

Update:

I turned 28.

I got fired.

I shut down.

I wanted to write, but how could I tell you how humiliated I was? How inadequate I am? I am glad I had the wherewithal to not pull up my blog published very much under my name and not beg for your pity. Ugh, what a disgusting thought.  

But, in some way or another, we all have those moments. Unable to meet my own gaze in the mirror feeling like I should want to scream at the top of my lungs, “STAY STRONG! PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER MAN!” But then just walk away, back towards the couch. The bed. Anywhere but outside.

 I’ll just stay in today, I said.

A vacation. Deserved. Everything is going to be okay. I just need to lie down for a few more minutes. There is power in surrender, but self-pity and wallowing in shame…. That’s some next level shit for a recovering alcoholic with deep fears of inadequacy. Or just like, you know, anyone really.

I’m not sure what changed—If it was sudden or a gradual shift after working at a job that left me feeling empty, long before it came to an end. I mean, obviously, I knew it was coming. They had the decency to do it on the Friday before my birthday.

Only because the new receptionist accidentally gave me the overnight FedEx envelope with my final paycheck… dated October 1. This isn’t a pity party, it’s a god damn comedy. I laughed, I cried, I joked, money is a little tight, fears come and go……… but now, I want you to know something.

I feel a voice rising, lost amongst long commutes, overworked days, unappreciated efforts, a job defined as simply and totally overwhelming. As they said, “it wasn’t a good fit,” and they couldn’t have been more right.

Elated, free, willing, eager, oh how eager I was but just two posts ago. On the surface, my blog’s origin story is so pointlessly fun. It is not much of a secret that I am writing for myself, my first steps into rediscovering creative confidence. Lolz, let’s bring them in on it. And really, more than you can possibly imagine, I love the absence of direction, message, calls to action.

Simply wanting to flex some brainstorming muscle with the vigor of a languid 12 minute glide on the elliptical at the gym I don’t belong to was exciting. Imagining myself totally feeling myself in that near empty corner of the fitness emporium of creativity, purposefully pretending I am there at an obscure hour that nobody works out in is total coincidence. Yes, one step closer to that Adonis jock author!

Having been asked about when my next post would come by a few more people than I expected, really terrified me. It felt like a pack of alpha cross fit women all came in to work out at once, taking all the machines… behind, adjacent, in front of… the worst. I felt like I’d been caught. An imposter! He’s watching BRAVO, does he even lift?

Writing selfishly and for fun was a lie, I see now. A lie to myself. A trick my own mind snared me in. It was all for fun, no one was watching, so conquering my fear of putting fingers to keys, pen to paper was too easy….

Post #3 and I am realizing that I have something to say. I want you to read, I want you to think, I want to share these experiences that make my life beautiful, scary, unbelievably hilarious. I am terrified that you are listening, so terrified that it must be significant. A great realization of how quickly I dove fast and hard towards vulnerability, and what, I’m going to just press delete? I’m all in.

My next move may be exciting. Maybe it will end up the same. Maybe my next chapter will be life defining. All I know is that I let my last job become part of an identity I should have kept more secure. I’ve been wanting to share my stories with you- the good ones! I find my days, off the couch, to be full of life. I have things to tell you! Reviews! Products to buy! I’m like an expert at spending money I don’t have - ask my parents about the time I inquired about how to go about mortgaging my room for a Razor scooter.

I couldn’t shout to pull myself together or remind myself it would all be okay… but now I want to get on the roof and let you all know that if you want to listen, to read, to laugh, to think, to watch my writing come alive… well, then I will not disappoint any of us.

Don’t think I will be boring you with my job search and laundry days. Buckle up, honey.

I have this domain for a year and am laughing at vulnerability. I can be witty, funny, biting, grouchy, but my heart is full of love and despite forgetting for a little while there, I know who I am and always have.

My last existential crisis was too recent for me to freak about losing my throne on wheels in that little nasty cubicle castle.