#oh missing you dear me that had 7 years and plenty of curiosity

[nocylipcowa]

seriously wondering whether falling in love would fix me

[pascalpanic]

Vera Vota (Deity!Maxwell Lord x f!Reader)- Prologue: Vera Vota & Chapter One: A Strange Accent

Summary: The god of wishes, known to humans as Maxwell Lord, is looking for entertainment and chaos. It’s been a while since he meddled with the humans, and he crafts the perfect package for a disaster. Choosing the first kind person he sees (reader), he bestows the Dreamstone to the mortal in an attempt to bring some destruction to the world. After all, he believes man is inherently evil. Maxwell will soon learn: is man truly evil, or do the pure of heart exist out there?

WC: 537 (Prologue), 2k (Chapter One)

Warnings: none (Prologue), Maxwell Lord being chaotic and a little forward (Chapter One), separate ratings will apply as new chapters are released

A/N: Well! Here we are! This will be my first series and I can’t wait for everyone to read it. Thank you so much to @poesflygirl, @ilikechocolatemilkh​, and @mandoalorian​ for your help and listening to my endless rambles!

Prologue: Vera Vota (Latin, “wishes come true”)

He was looking for chaos. When wasn’t he? As the gods often did, he turned to humanity for entertainment. It had felt like eons since he had meddled with the humans, creating fool’s gold to mess with them. What could he do? What could throw a wrench into the machine of humankind?

It had to be something of his own devising. He couldn’t use something that some other god had created, nor could he use something made by a human. But it needed power, enough to control all of their world. He couldn’t manipulate a country at a time… no, for maximum effect, he needed to start with just one human. 

The human would have to be trusting, someone at least somewhat good. It would be easier to trick a naive human into cooperation than it would be to find one willing to follow through once they knew of his plan.

Now, what could he do? What could one randomly selected human do to bring a sense of panic across their measly globe? It had to be some kind of weapon. Not the giant bombs that humanity had already created. Nothing destructive in a physical way. Something that would make the humans… wish. He was the god of wishes, after all. 

What if… no, he thought. That wouldn’t work… or would it? 

The random human, they would be given something so powerful to turn them into a superhuman. They would be granted some ultimate power, and he would use their power as his little game. 

He hummed and tapped his fingers on the pyrite throne beneath him, stirring the infant griffin resting on his shoulder. “Hello, my dear,” he murmured. “No need to worry. Just your father thinking,” he told the little thing and stroked its tiny wings. 

He crossed his legs and gazed at the marble ceiling, letting his brain come up with any idea he could. Humans were fools, he knew. But what if…

Using his power, he conjured a token. He wasn’t sure what it would be; he allowed the power to choose something in a perfect shape for it. He smiled as he opened his eyes. Hovering between his hands was a warm orange stone, a little bit of rock at the base. A dream stone, he nodded. He took the object in his hands and brought it to his lips, breathing power into it. 

What power, he wondered, will bring humankind to their knees? What will they be willing to allow in? What did humans… want?

That was the answer, he realized and he breathed the power of the wish into the stone, now faintly glowing inside. No two humans wanted the same thing. The stone could grant wishes. But that wasn’t enough. If the stone could only grant wishes, it would only cause wonderful things. No, the stone had to do something else… like take something in return. His hot breath made the crystal glow brighter, even warming in his hands. 

“Perfect,” he murmured and pressed a kiss to the stone in his hands. The glowing stopped, and the stone returned to its cool temperature of before, matching the ambient air around it. He grinned into the crystal, still holding it to his face. It is time for the chaos to begin.

Chapter 1: A Strange Accent

You aggressively jam the walk button, shoving your hands inside of your sweater again. It’s quite chilly outside, the coldest day of the fall so far, and you want nothing more than to get indoors as soon as possible. You hadn’t expected it to get cold and so you were vastly unprepared as you walked home from work, wrapping the cardigan tighter around your body. You scurry across the street, sighing as you open the door to your favorite coffee shop and are immediately flooded with warmth and the scent of espresso. 

Sighing, you wander towards the counter to place your order, your face forming a frown as you notice there’s someone in line. The shop is usually desolate at this hour, just a short time before they close for the night. People rarely want coffee this late, but you need it tonight. It was a long day at the office, and you had been caught up in editing a manuscript when you looked up and discovered it was dark.

The man is taking a while to order, and you cross your arms as you stand behind him and wait. His voice has an odd lilt to it, and you listen to the tone as he tells the barista what he wants. Your brow furrows in concentration, trying to place his accent. It sounds like his native tongue is some kind of romance language, maybe Spanish or Portuguese. Unintentionally, you lose yourself in the drone of the man’s voice.

You’re jilted from your state of near mesmerization as he turns and makes eye contact with you. Almost gasping, you bite on your lip. He must’ve noticed you staring at him in some reflection, or noticed your eavesdropping, you think, but he cuts your thoughts off in your tracks. “Excuse me, miss. Do you have a dollar bill?” he asks in that enchanting voice, his eyes trained on yours, bulging from the interruption.

Oh, she’s absolutely perfect, Maxwell thinks to himself, a small smile on his face. He’s always loved the humans that are taken aback by him, the humans attracted to him. It strokes his ego, plain and simple.

You nod and open your purse, rummaging for a bill without a hesitation. You’re a helpful person, this is no different, you tell yourself. You frequently share your spare change with the homeless folks on the streets of D.C. as you walk to work. If a stranger simply asks for a dollar, you oblige. It has nothing to do with how entranced by this man you find yourself. 

As you hand him the bill, you look up and over his torso and face. He’s wearing a large pinstriped suit and a coat on top of it, fitting the fashion of the current year. His skin is a beautiful color, indescribable really. His face has deep lines but they fit him, and his eyes are a lovely chocolate brown. His hair seems to be highlighted; you find that odd, but don’t comment. It works on him, a layer of gold above a similar chocolate brown to his eyes. His eyes meet yours again and he smiles. “Thank you, miss…” he trails off and raises an eyebrow, asking for your name.

You tell him with a nod and he takes your hand in his, kissing the knuckles, his eyes never leaving yours. No ring on the wedding finger, good. “You’re welcome. I mean, it’s a dollar,” you ramble and shrug a little, feeling the butterflies stir in your stomach at his gaze. 

He drops your hand gently and smiles. “Still, very generous. Thank you.” He nods and turns back to the barista, who asks for his name. The man takes a moment, an almost suspicious amount of time, before feigning that he didn’t hear her. “Maxwell,” he says slowly, his voice as sweet and shimmering as the golden color of honey.

It’s a name that fits the man. Plenty of men went by Max. Hell, it’s 1984, that’s one of the most common names, you think to yourself. But Maxwell holds a different tone. It’s elegant, refined. Very much like the man. He pays her and turns to you once more. “Could I have the honor of sitting with such a kind woman while we drink our coffee?” he offers.

Despite your beauty, you’re not very used to flirtation. It makes your heart skip a little bit in your chest to hear the words, especially from such a gorgeous man. You had planned on taking your coffee to go, but his offer makes you weak at the knees. “I’d like that,” you nod and he points to a nearby table, informing you that that’s where he’ll be. You nod and order from the barista, the one you’ve known for a while now, and she gives you an excited little smile. 

After you order, you sit across from Maxwell at the small table. “So, what brings you here this late?” you ask him, genuinely curious.

He shrugs. “Something inside of me told me I needed a cappuccino, I suppose,” he shrugs, eliciting a small giggle from the both of you. God, he’s beautiful, you think to yourself as you look at him. You prop your chin on your palm as you look over at the man, waiting for the real answer. “What about yourself?” he asks.

You look at him with curiosity, surprised he never gave a real reason. “Well,” you chuckle, fidgeting with your hair with your free hand, “I stayed far later than I was supposed to at the office. I’m an editor, and I have this novel I need to finish looking over by tomorrow morning. I was working on it all day, since I forgot about it, but then I looked at the clock and it was 7:30. I need to keep working on it, though, so I figured I’d drop by this place for some espresso.” Normally you’d never babble like this, but something in his behavior compels you to spill everything. “I need to get home and finish it, so I need something to keep me up while I do it.”

Maxwell’s expression droops a little. “Don’t let me keep you,” he says, tilting his head a little. “If you need to get home and work on it, do it.” He presents you the easy out, allowing you to leave right now. You don’t take it, and he smiles a little to himself. You’re the person, he decides then and there.

“No, no. I needed a break. It hurts my head to stare at that tiny writing for too long,” you chuckle and shake your head. “It was perfect timing for me.”

“Me too,” he says, trying to hold the excitement back from his smile. His first try, his first descent to Earth on his little mission, and he finds the perfect mark. The barista calls out your names and you scoot your chair back to move but he holds out a hand. “No, allow me,” he says with a gentlemanly gesture, his hand resting on your shoulder for a moment. 

Maxwell returns with two porcelain mugs on matching white saucers, setting your drink in front of you. Your macchiato steams enticingly and it takes all of your effort to hold back from grabbing the hot drink and downing it, letting the warmth radiate through your core. Instead, you cup the mug with both hands, sighing as it warms your cold fingers. You look over at his drink, a cappuccino. It’s fitting, you think, bringing the coffee close to your face and letting the steam warm your frost-chilled nose. 

The two of you converse for a while. It’s less conversation, you realize after a moment, and more of the two of you discussing your life. You stop once you realize that. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling. Tell me about yourself,” you say and change the topic, sipping the last of your macchiato and setting the empty mug back down on the saucer.

Maxwell sighs and pushes his wavy gold hair from his eyes. “Are you a religious woman?” He asks. 

How abrupt, you think to yourself, and shake your head. “This is about you-”

“It will be, but answer that first.” His response is odd and your throat goes dry. Did you just find yourself extremely attracted to this man only for him to start pitching Scientology to you or something? You shake your head again. “Is that no, you’re non-religious, or no as in you’re an atheist?” he asks. This situation is increasingly odd, and you gather your cardigan around yourself. “Not religious, just don’t have thoughts on that. If you’ll excuse me-” you start to sling your purse across your shoulder but he puts a hand on yours, stopping you, calling your name. 

He looks into your eyes, and you can’t quite read them, but his expression is certainly odd. “Good. I…” he trails off. “I’m a deity,” he admits to you.

You snort a laugh at that. “Okay, and I’m secretly the heir to Atlantis. Thanks for the conversation, Maxwell, but-”

“Watch,” he commands you, and you follow as he brings his fingers to the edge of your mug. Your mind races suddenly; did he spike it? Are you about to get murdered? He traces a finger around the rim and suddenly, the mug is refilled with a steaming macchiato. You blink in confusion. “There’s no way…” you trail off, murmuring, staring at the cup and sitting again. You lift the mug, feeling the heat radiating through the porcelain. You look up at him and he has a small smile. 

“What else do you want me to do to prove it?” He asks. 

You bite your lip and look down. “Tell me my childhood dog’s name.”

He chuckles and leans back in his seat. “I’m not omniscient. I’m the god of wishes, my dear,” he smiles, and you notice there’s a glint of gold shining through the previously solid brown irises in his eyes. “Tell me to do something, and I can do it.”

This is terrifying, you have to admit, but it’s real. It has to be. There’s no other explanation for that. “You just refilled my mug. Make it tea.” 

“You have to wish for it,” he tells you, face clearly showing he’s getting pleasure from showing off his powers to you. “Touch me and wish for it.”

Groaning, you put your hand on top of his. “I wish for you to change this coffee to tea,” you say, fed up with his mood. 

The man nods and the foamy brown contents of the mug become a clear green tea. You swallow hard as you look down at it, in disbelief. “Go on, try it,” he tells you, a smirk on his face. 

“How do I know you didn’t do something to it? That it doesn’t have drugs in it?”

“I give you my word.”

It still scares you, but you lift the mug with shaky hands and sip it. It’s green tea, plain and simple.

“Since you gave me that dollar,” he explains, “I am indebted to you. I have a gift I believe you will want. A gift that will allow you to fulfill your wildest dreams.”

You narrow your eyes. “That doesn’t sound worth a dollar.”

Maxwell chuckles at that. “It’s not the dollar; it’s the fact that you gave it to me so willingly. You are a worthy human of this, what I am going to give you.”

This doesn’t make sense. You shake your head. “No, no thank you. I can’t- no.”

“Yes. This is for you,” he tells you, and out of nowhere, he’s holding an amber-colored crystal. “As a gift of my thanks.” You reluctantly take it from him, admiring it, unsure of what it does, what it is. You open your mouth to speak but he beats you to it. “This is the Dreamstone.”

[skiller0dani]

Aching Curiosity | Klaus Hargreeves

M A S T E R L I S T TUA Masterlist

smut requested requests info

I am now talking The Umbrella Academy Requests! See my requests info for the details. Klaus is my precious baby bean, he’s one of my favorite characters. god I am so hot for this man. like look at his smile, and his shoulders, and his neck, and his jaw, and his chest, and and~~ 

okay I’m done. enjoy xx

You knew he was a mess when you met him. 

You could tell before he even spoke a single word to you that his life was falling apart, even with the cheeky smile he sent your way, along with the palm that read Hello. Reginald Hargreeves had hired you recently as a maid, cook, personal assistant to Grace. You knew almost nothing about him or his 7 strange children, other than that there were comic books written about them, along with action figure toys made. You’d always found that odd, was it because Mr. Hargreeves was rich? One of his daughters, Vanya Hargreeves had released a book but you have yet to pick up a copy. You were employed to her father, it felt like spying on him. Even after Mr. Hargreeve’s death you remained with Grace and Pogo-  it didn’t take you long to figure out what made the Hargreeve’s children so famous. 

One has super strength, Luther.  One never misses, ever, Diego.  One can control peoples minds, Allison.  One can speak to the dead, Klaus.  One can time travel and teleport short distances, Five.  One had tentacles emerge from his body, Ben. And one was completely ordinary, Vanya.  

While you had met most of Mr. Hargreeves children, Ben had passed away a few years prior and Five went missing nearly 16 years ago. Either way none of the children lived in the house anymore, you spent your days with Mr. Hargreeves, Grace, and Pogo. Until the untimely death of Mr. Hargreeves. 

As soon as he’d stepped foot in the door, you knew he was a mess. There was black rimming his red hazy eyes, a joint in one hand and a big lazy smile on his face. An eyebrow cocked when Klaus’s eyes landed on you, and the other eyebrow joined when his eyes trailed over your uniform. He had a bottle in his palm and his tongue darted out to catch a drop rolling down the side. Grace came up behind you, “welcome home dear. This is Y/N, your father’s new maid.” She smiled, her eyes wide and robotic as Klaus pressed a kiss to her cheek. Your heart felt as though it was beating like wild when Klaus turned to regard you once again, a smile was pressed to his face and you waited in anticipation when he opened his mouth. “Why the hell would you take a job here?” A short laugh escaped as a huff from his mouth before he’s turning for the living room- and a bar. 

With only 1 person, 1 robot, and a monkey living in the house it wasn’t particularly dirty. Pogo gave you your instructions most of the time but since Mr. Hargreeves died he didn’t have much of anything for you to do. Most often you roamed around the house, admiring the books or examining the individual brush strokes of each painting. You followed Klaus into the living room, where your eyes landed on a painting of Five. Klaus leaned against the bar, another bottle in his hand. He tilts his head back as he ingests what you hope is a medication that was prescribed to him. Based upon his appearance however, you doubt it. 

“Why did you take this job?” He asked, turning around so that his back is pressed against the bar. 

“Good pay.” You say simply, truth is, is that there’s more to it than that. But you don’t feel like saying your sob story to a drunk pill popper. Klaus must have caught wind of your timidness as an almost greedy smile crossed onto his face before he pushed away from the bar. He swayed from foot to foot before finding his balance. You felt heat simmering in your lower belly as Klaus towered over you, his eyes narrowed. A teasing smile stretched across his lips, “my father was probably the most miserable person to be around, and you chose to spend all day with him, every single day for... good pay?” Klaus inquires, a sarcastic tone in his voice as he leaned down to look you in the eyes. You blushed under his hard stare. 

“You’re either really lonely or really desperate.” Klaus shrugged, standing up straight. He had to have been the most attractive man you’d ever laid eyes on even though he had an air of femininity to him, which strangely made him more attractive. Feeling embarrassed by his interrogation you make a beeline for the staircase, watching Klaus’s smile turn upwards in victory as you retreat. 

It wasn’t until hours later that you’d seen Klaus again, and this time he sought you out. The sun had long set under the edge of the city, and most of all the other siblings had arrived- even Five. Which you couldn’t wrap your head around still- the image of him falling from the sky replaying in your head. You were tidying your cramped bedroom, or rather broom cupboard that Mr. Hargreeves had given you to use as a bedroom. You folded clothes, yours and Grace’s to be exact, so they would be ready to put away the following morning. One harsh knock, followed by 2 more took your attention from the laundry in front of you. You almost never had anyone knocking at your door, and all the siblings except for Klaus and Vanya had all but ignored you. You didn’t take it personally, they did just lose someone although you’re not sure Mr. Hargreeves was very important to them. 

“Klaus?” You were confused to say the least to see him leaning against the wall opposite your bedroom. He had a smile resting lazily on his face and in his hand he held a bottle and two glasses. “Have a drink with me.” There was a twinkle in his eyes and you knew already that you lacked the strength to turn him away, it was curiosity that drove you forward. You took one of the glasses as you led him down the hallway, your bedroom was far too small to sit comfortably in. “Mine.” Klaus said as he snatched your wrist, and with a short nod you were following him back through the house towards his own- much larger- bedroom. 

You felt nervous as you crossed the threshold into his bedroom. Klaus collapsed against his bed, and you stood stiff as a board in the doorway. “Sit down, Jesus before you turn into a fucking statue.” Klaus grumbled with a playful smile, and you try to ease your nerves as you sit on some cushions he has placed on the floor. Being alone with Klaus, sent tendrils of electricity pulsing through your entire body, and you’d only known him a few hours. You felt a strong magnetic pull towards him and anytime the opportunity presented itself, you allowed your eyes to take peaks of his body. Klaus poured the clear liqueur into his glass and you followed suit. 

“Why did you really take this job?” Klaus asked after the 4th glass, and to your surprised he still seems pretty composed. You were on your third glass and were already starting to feel the alcohol’s effects. You let out a deep breath as you slam the rest of the alcohol in your glass, “needed an escape. Somewhere I felt safe, my ex boyfriend is a real piece of work.” You say with a sigh and Klaus’s eyebrows furrow together as he scoots of the bed to sit on the floor with you. “He used to go on drunk tangents, would break stuff, threaten to hurt me. He scared me so when I got the offer from Mr. Hargreeves to be a live in maid, I immediately said yes.” You didn’t realize tears were in your eyes until Klaus was brushing one away as it fell down your cheek. A dark look flashed in Klaus’s eyes before he was cupping your cheeks and forcing you to look into his eyes. 

“Did he ever hurt you?” There’s a haziness in his eyes but you can tell he’s being serious. You shook your head, even though it was a lie. Your ex boyfriend definitely has hurt you before, but something tells you that this would upset Klaus beyond belief and you don’t want him to worry. When you noticed Klaus’s eyes locked on your lips your heart jumped in your throat. You froze as he inched forward, giving you plenty of time to stop him. Much to his delight, you don’t stop him before he presses his lips against yours. Normally Klaus isn’t this assertive, tending to be more submissive but he can practically taste the timidness coming from you. He wants to feel your lips on his, to feel your body on his and he knows that won’t happen unless he takes the lead. 

At first you’re stiff, but when Klaus’s hand tangles into your hair at the back of your head you immediately melt against him. Knocking the glasses aside you lean up into his inviting lips as his tongue slides across your bottom lip. Klaus cups your cheek with his left hand, his other still tangled in your hair as he presses you more firmly against his mouth. You feel like there’s a drum beating in your chest as you lean up on your knees to press against Klaus. He falls back against his bed, and in your drunken haze you crawl frantically onto his lap. You grind your hips down on his hardening bulge, your brain fogged by alcohol and lust. All you can feel is him- lips and tongues and teeth and hands wandering all over each other’s bodies. After a few minutes of a heated make-out session you finally regain your sanity and come to your senses. Klaus’s lust blown eyes stay locked on you as you have your hands pressed to his shoulders. 

“What’s wrong?” His question is genuine and his chest is heaving as he catches his breath. Your lips are pink and swollen as your heart hammers wildly in your chest, “K-Klaus I can’t. I’m a virgin.” You whisper the last part, your mind screaming at itself for not having lost your virginity yet. Your body longs desperately for him, for his cock to be buried inside you. Klaus leans against his bed, his chest heaving, “oh.” Is all he manages to huff out. His lips are tingling and all the blood is rushing to his cock. His hands grab at your hips, his grip his loosening even after your confession. “Well that’s okay, I don’t mind.” Klaus shrugs, his eyes scanning your face but he can’t tear his gaze away from your lips for very long. Your eyebrows shoot up into your hairline, “you still want to...you know...with me...even though I’m a virgin?” Your cheeks blush darkly as the words stammer from your lips. Klaus smiles like a schoolboy, “oh yeah.” He reassures, his hands ghosting up and down your sides. 

Timidly, you press your lips against his once more. Klaus moans into your mouth at the contact, his hand reaching up to cradle the back of your head. The kisses become more and more desperate as your lips begin to move against his faster. Klaus’s hand drifts up your back to suddenly push your body against his, your breasts crushed against his chest. “You sure you’re okay,” he starts, beginning to kiss down your neck, “with me popping your cherry?” Klaus gasps in between kisses as he nips at your neck. Your hands grab at his biceps as you moan softly, feeling his lips working down your neck to your collarbones. “Mhm I’m sure.” You whisper lazily, your head rolling back as Klaus’s mouth presses wet kisses to the tops of your breasts- still mostly covered by your shirt. “If you want me to stop just say so.” He says, pulling away from you to look in your eyes. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I thought you were gay when I first met you.” You muse aloud as his mouth returns to pressing kisses to your collarbones. Klaus chuckles as he thumbs the bottom of your shirt- you quickly get the hint and nervously pull the fabric up and over your head. “Oh baby I don’t fit in any one box, I fuck whatever makes my dick hard. Be it a man, woman, I don’t care.” Klaus mumbles, his lips exploring the newly exposed skin. Your breasts are nearly spilling from your bra when Klaus’s hands hastily yanks your bra down to expose them to him completely. His eyes widen and Klaus swears his mouth is watering at the sight of you, “fuck” Klaus hisses under his breath. Fumbling with the clasp Klaus eventually just yanks the bra off, tearing it in half as he does so. You moan as he does so, and Klaus arches a brow at your response. 

Klaus is leaning down to capture one of your hardened nipples into his mouth as his other hand drifts down your stomach. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as his teeth bite down on your nipple, forcing a cry of both pain and pleasure to erupt from your mouth. You reach up to cover your mouth with your palm but Klaus gently removes your hand, “I want them to hear you.” As soon as the words leave his lips you feel a rush of arousal head south, dampening your panties. Klaus dips his hand into your sleep shorts as you pull at his shirt, helping him yank it over his head. You stayed in his lap, subconsciously grinding against him as his fingers make contact with your aching clit. 

“Am I not going fast enough darling?” Klaus teases as he watches your hips lazily roll against his hard cock on their own accord. A blush darkens your cheeks as you play with the short hairs on the back of his neck. You shake your head, “faster.” You whisper, your empty pussy clenching around nothing. Klaus presses a quick kiss to your lips before lifting you with him as he stands. Turning around, Klaus gently lays you back on the bed, and your heart is hammering hard. Your head is still hazy with alcohol, and all you can think about is Klaus’s cock pushing inside you. Klaus reaches up to hook his fingers into your sleep shorts and panties, and he yanks them down your legs with one quick yank. Once you’re laying completely naked underneath him you squirm from the heated look he’s giving you. Klaus’s fingertips brush against your tummy, a wide grin splitting across his face. 

Gliding his fingers through your folds, you whine loudly while Klaus hums appreciatively at how wet you are. Prodding a finger against your entrance, Klaus very gently pushes a finger into you. Your legs spread open further as you moan softly, feeling sparks shooting through your entire body. Klaus begins to steadily pump a finger into you, and he can’t take his fucking eyes off you. Your back is arched slightly as the most beautiful sounds he’s ever heard tumble from your parted lips. Very carefully Klaus adds a second finger and you groan, your fists curling into the sheets as you already feel a climax approaching. Seeming to sense your orgasm as well, Klaus pulls his fingers from your wet pussy immediately, standing straight. Your chest is heaving as your head thumps back against the pillow, but you lift your head when you hear Klaus undoing his jeans. 

When his tight pants are shimmied off his legs you can’t take your eyes off the prominent bulge in his boxer briefs. Klaus leans down to press a sweet kiss to your lips before digging around his bedside drawer, his mouth turning up to a smile when he pulls out what he was looking for. A condom. “Hold this for me okay baby?” Klaus says gently, sensing your nerves coming back. You swallow thickly as your trembling hands reach forward to take the condom from him. “Still want to do this?” He asks as his fingers curl into the waistband of his briefs. You nod instantly. Klaus smiles before pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead before pushing his briefs down his legs, allowing his leaking cock to spring free. Klaus hisses in relief as his aching cock hits the cool air and he smiles at you before plucking the condom from your shaking hands. 

You watch as Klaus tears the condom wrapper open to slowly roll the condom down his shaft. You swallow thickly as you part your thighs for him, settling your head into the pillow as Klaus leans over you. “Will it fit?” You ask, feeling dumb for even asking. But Klaus simply presses another kiss to your lips as he nudges the blushing head against your wet opening. “Don’t worry baby, it’ll fit.” Klaus reassures, one of his hands snaking between your bodies to line himself up. Once Klaus slots the head of his cock against your tight opening he looks up at you before does anything, “are you absolutely sure you want this? I don’t want you to wake up tomorrow with regrets.” He says, his face falling. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, “I’m sure. If we don’t do this, that will be the only thing I’ll regret tomorrow morning.” You whisper as you pepper kisses along his neck and shoulder. Klaus licks his lips with a nod and a small smile. 

Very gently Klaus begins to push into you, his lips pressing sweetly against yours as a cry of pain begins to escape your lips. Klaus’s hands find yours as he slowly works the head into you, and you feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes from the pain. Klaus begins to slide the shaft into you and your mouth falls open as tears drip down your cheeks, the burning is unbearable. Noticing your tears Klaus panics and comes to a halt, “oh shit I’m so sorry, am I hurting you? Do you want to stop? W-we can stop-” His voice is bordering on frantic as he brushes your tears away quickly. You cut him off by pressing your lips against his, but when you pull away you still see the panicked and guilty look in his eyes. “Please keep going, I don’t want to stop.” You beg, your hands coming up to cup his cheeks. Klaus remains still inside you, he looks unsure. “Klaus please, please I want this. I want you, I can take the pain.” You plead, and finally he gives in.

Klaus very timidly resumes working himself into you, his eyes darting back up to scan over your face as he slides into you. Eventually he hits the hymen and by now he’s damn near panting because of how tight you are hugging his cock, and it’s taking every ounce of self control for him not to pound into your little pussy. Klaus presses his forehead against yours, his arms curling around your body as he surges his hips forward- breaking your hymen and sliding fully inside you. You gasp in pain as your arms wind tightly around him, holding onto his back. Klaus pants into your neck, “you feel so fucking good. Holy shit,” He gasps, and you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck. Klaus sits still inside you, waiting until you give him the green light to move. 

After about 5 minutes you release a shaky breath, the burning subsiding. “You can move, but gently okay?” You tell him, your words muffled by the skin of his neck. Klaus leans up on his elbows, as he brushes his nose against yours. He gently pulls his hips back before slowly sliding back into you. The small thrust has stars bursting behind your eyes as your nails dig into his back. Klaus continues his gentle thrusts, sliding back in with a little more force then before. As he feels the pleasure building in his stomach Klaus’s lips frantically find yours, his thumb reaching down to roll your clit as he sweetly fucks into you. You kiss him back with fervor, feeling your own climax approaching again. “Please don’t stop, fuck Klaus don’t stop.” Your pleas spur him on as he gently fucks into you a little harder, rubbing harsh circles onto your clit. “Oh God Klaus fuck I’m-I’m-” Before you can finish your sentence, you’re clenching hard around his cock as you cum. You gush around him as he cums in hot spurts into the condom as soon as he feels you clamp around him. 

Chest heaving, Klaus pulls out of you with a wince to discard of the condom. There’s a dull ache between your thighs and your legs feel like jello. Klaus comes back to bed and collapses next to you, a smile stretched across his face. He flicks his lamp off, and he brushes his nose against yours. “Did I do okay?” Klaus asks, insecurity creeping into his voice. You wrap your arms around him to pull him against you, “you did perfect.” You reassure him and he nuzzles his head against your chest, before the two of you drift to sleep. 

The next morning you’re being carried to the kitchen on Klaus’s back. You had tried to stand but your legs wobbled and you fell back against him. That’s when he scooped you into his arms and began to piggyback carry you around the house on his back. As the two of you enter the kitchen, Diego raises his eyebrows. “Did you have a good night?” He asks, a knowing smile on his face. You blush and open your mouth to try to deny it or even explain yourself but Klaus smiles widely, “fuck yeah I did! I totally got laid.” You hide your face in his back in embarrassment, feeling the vibrations of his laughter. 

[steebrogurz]

Save Me (Part 4)

Summary: Bucky comes to your rescue during a fight with your boyfriend.

warnings: none

word count: 2294

a/n: thank you so much for reading my fics!! it means a lot to me and i hope you keep enjoying my fics. please reblog and tell me what you think

Bucky leaves me standing in the hall and I groan in frustration and shame then walked through the door locking it behind me. It’s a small bare room but the bed looks soft and that was all I need at the moment. 

I unzip Bucky’s jacket and I’m about to take it off when a knock sounds that the door startling me. “Who- who is it?” I ask while I know that Alex can’t hurt me while I’m here my heart still beats a little faster.

“It’s Steve.” there’s a pause. “I have a few things for you.” 

My curiosity outweighs my fear at the sound of his voice so I zip up the jacket again and unlock the door. Steve stands on the other side of the door holding my purse in one hand and a bundle of clothes in the other. 

“Your phone’s been ringing for the last hour and Bucky wanted me to give you these.” He holds both of them out to me with a warm smile and I thank him before closing the door again. 

I dump the clothes on the bed and dig into my purse for my phone to see that my sister had called me three times and texted at least 7 times. I don’t bother reading her texts right now instead I put my phone down on the bed and and inspect the pile of clothes Steve dropped off, a pair of black sweatpants and a grey t-shirt. Both are clearly made for men and I scoff at the image of Bucky going through his own clothes to find something to give to me.

I take off Bucky’s jacket and hang it on the back of a chair that sits in the corner of the room. The ripped remains of my own t shirt come off next and is thrown into the opposite corner of the room, but before I can put on the other shirt my phone begins to buzz. It's my sister again and of course she wants to FaceTime. 

I stare at the screen for a second trying to decide if I should just decline it and call her back. But she'll find out about everything eventually and we've always told each other everything, so I smile as best I can and answer the phone.

"Hi- oh my God!" I can see that she's already lying in bed but when she sees my face she bolts upright. "What happened?!"

I heave a shuddering breath, "Um, Alex happened. We had a fight this morning and then he attacked me earlier tonight." 

She turns and shakes her girlfriend awake talking about how she's going to come and stay with me. 

"No, Sarah. Sarah! I'm ok, I promise I'm safe." 

She stops and looks back at me with the most serious look on her face I've ever seen. "Did you kill him? Because you can't go to jail if it was self-defense. I know I live an hour away but I can come and help you hide the body, we'll be your alibi if we need to be."

Gratitude spreads through my chest and I smile at her. Leave to my dear sister to offer to help hide a body, that's always been our sibling relationship. We stuck together through everything and always had each other's backs. "No I didn't kill him, but thanks for offering to help get rid of him. And I'm actually not at home right now anyway." I turn myself around showing her the bare room.

"Oh. Ok well where are you then? Are you at a motel or something?" She squints and brings her phone closer to her face so that all I can see are her eyes and forehead, as if that would help her figure out where I am.

"I'm at the Avengers compound." A note of disbelief colours my tone. Saying it out loud to Sarah made it more real, and it was finally sinking in that I'll be sleeping in a building full of super heroes. 

"You're where?! You're with the Avengers? How did you manage that?" Sarah laughs and I start telling her about everything that happened today, starting with the pregnancy and ending with me yelling at Bucky. 

When I'm done talking both Sarah and her girlfriend, Rose, are staring at me through the phone with stunned expressions. And Rose is the one to break the silence. 

"I'm really sorry you went through that today. Alex is an asshole, and we're both happy that Bucky was there to help you." I nod thinking about everything he's done for me. 

"Speaking of Bucky," Sarah speaks up turning the phone towards her. "It sounds like he's got a crush on you." Rose nods in agreement and I gape at her words. 

"What?! No, he's just being nice and helping me. He's an Avenger! That's what he does." I protest, but my heart starts beating faster at the thought. Could he have a crush on me? I feel like I'm back in high school asking my friends if my crush like liked me and I roll my eyes at her. "Even if he did, I'm probably not going to want to date for a while after what happened today." They both nod in understanding. 

"By the way, what did you want to talk to be about? Steve said you've been calling my phone for the last hour." A blush creeps up my face when I use Steve Rogers's name so casually as if we'd been friends for years. Both Sarah and Rose grin into the phone and Sarah raises her left hand to show me a sparkling diamond ring on her ring finger. I gasp and all thoughts of earlier are chased away from my mind with excitement. "Oh my God! Rose it's beautiful! Congratulations I'm so happy for you!" My excitement wanes slightly when I think about needing a date for the wedding. 

“I know that look, Y/N. The wedding won’t be until next year so you’ll have plenty of time to find a date… or not. There’s no pressure for you to bring anyone at all.” Sarah shrugs and I shake my head at her. My very intuitive sister always knew what I was thinking, it got annoying sometimes.

“Yeah, tell that to mom,” I scoff. "Now that you're getting married I really need to step up my dating game if I'm ever gonna get her off my back."

“Well,” she says suggestively, drawing out the word. “You could always bring Bucky, I bet she’d love that.” She winks at me and Rose nudges her in the ribs. 

I bark and unamused laugh. “Alright, I’m gonna go but thanks for the suggestion that will definitely not be taken. Give Katie a kiss for me and congrats again. I love you.”

“Ok honey, we love you and we’re so glad that you’re safe. If you ever need to talk or need a place to stay I’m always here for you.” Sarah blows me a kiss and I wave at them both before hanging up. Talking with Sarah always made me feel better and the happiness of their engagement helped to keep my fear and anxiety at bay.

I toss my phone back onto the bed and put on the t-shirt and sweatpants. Both are at least three times too big and I have to roll the cuffs up multiple times to keep from tripping on them. I tie the hem of the shirt so that I don’t look like a child wearing her dad’s t-shirt careful not to make it too tight and I glance over at the jacket hanging on the chair. 

I could just give it back to him in the morning, that would be the appropriate, normal thing to do...but I should also apologize to him for yelling at him earlier. 

That’s what I tell myself to justify standing outside his door and knocking. This has nothing to do with the fact that I feel cold without him beside me, or that I strangely miss the way his gaze seems to pierce right into my soul. 

I wait for a couple minutes outside his door with no answer so assuming he’s either asleep and just doesn’t want to talk to me I turn back to my door, but just as I reach my room again his door opens. I look down at his jacket and step forward, thrusting it into his hands.

“I wanted to give this back to you. There might be some blood on it...sorry.” Bucky looks at the jacket and back up at me, I can see the smile in his eyes but not on his face. 

“Thanks, good night Y/N.” He goes to close his door again and I jump forward with my hand out to stop him.

“Wait!” When he pauses and turns his icy blue gaze on me again and my heart rate picks up. “I, um, also wanted to apologize for earlier. That wasn’t fair to you and I’m sorry. I just- there was a lot going on in my head and with everyone asking if I'm okay...I just didn’t know how to handle it-”

“I get it,” he cuts me off still watching me with those icy blue eyes. “You just went through something really scary, the last thing you need is someone telling you how to feel. I'm sorry too, I should've known better.” 

I nod and shudder at the thought of how he’s able to know how someone is feeling and what they need after a traumatic event. I take a deep breath trying to work up the courage to ask my next question.

“Can I- can I stay with you?” I ask, hoping he won't just close the door on me. He looks into my eyes and I silently plead with him, begging him to say yes, I don’t know if I’d be able to sleep otherwise, and I breathe a sigh of relief when he silently nods holding the door open for me to walk through. “Thank you.”

His room is almost exactly like the one I was set up in. The walls are bare, and a chair sits in the corner. The only difference is that the bed is bigger than mine but looks just as soft. What strikes me is the complete lack of personal items in the room and I turn to face Bucky. “Do you live here?”

He shakes his head. “No I have my own place, I just figured you’d be more comfortable here than at a stranger’s house.” He closes the door but stays where he is watching as I gingerly sit on the bed feeling the soft blanket beneath me. 

"Well I don't know if I'd call you a stranger anymore," I said looking up at him. He had his arms crossed over his chest. "I mean, you saved my life twice today. That bumps you up to at least aquaintance status." That smile I saw in his eyes earlier returns and spreads to the rest of his face as he chuckles and comes to sit on the bed beside me while still keeping a respectable distance.

"You're funny," he muses. "I like that." 

It sounds like he's got a crush on you. Sarah's words repeat in my head and I smile to myself. "I guess that's my coping mechanism." I must be feeling bold right now because the next thing out of my mouth surprises us both. "I talked to my sister about what happened today, and she seems to think that you 'have a crush on me'." I raised hands in air quotes to show they were her words and not mine. "Is that- I mean I told her that you were just helping me, 'cause, well, you're an Avenger, it's what you do. Right?" I take a deep breath to steady myself and calm my mind that's now panicking. 

Bucky just stares at me, which isn't helping, and opens his mouth as if to say something as he processes my rambling. Finally he sighs and smiles. "So first of all: I'm not an Avenger. I'm just a cybernetically enhanced guy trying his best to live a normal life. And second of all," he pauses and chews the inside of his lip leaving me to wait in agony for his next point. "Second of all: she's not wrong." 

Those three words hit me like a freight train and knocks the wind out of me. I wasn't expecting an answer like that, I was prepared for him to shake his head, tell me anything but that. Now I'm at a loss for words so we sit there staring at each other again waiting for the other to make the first move.

I briefly glance down at his lips, they look so soft and inviting and my mind goes blank except for one thought: Fuck he’s hot. I look back up to his eyes and my brain restarts, I blink a few times and turn away so I can think clearly. “I should- uh, I should go to sleep.” I crawl further onto the bed and slip under the covers facing away from him, and after a few seconds I feel the bed dip as Bucky gets in behind me. The bed is big enough to allow us to have our own space without the chance of wither of us accidentally touching the other, and I lie there with my eyes closed willing myself to sleep but the reality of Bucky lying there so close yet so far away keeps gnawing at the back of my mind and I wonder if I’ll actually be able to sleep.

tags: @oliviawestbay @doralupin01 @whatsupbucky

[idesofrevolution]

Let’s get some of that Laguna Beach, California heat in this frigid time of year. :)

Jake Rathbone. My God, Jake Rathbone. How do I describe him? The perfect human being? A God among men? The envy of the universe? That’s inadequate. He is flawless. And he will be all mine. He made me pick up skateboarding. He made me shop at Pac Sun & Zumiez. I saw him drink a Rockstar Xdurance once, so I started drinking Rockstar Xdurance. 

Now I know what you’re thinking: you’re going a bit overboard, Tim. But you don’t understand, Jake Rathbone is my idol. It’s like the universe put us on the same planet just to bring us together. Here’s the problem, though: Jake is a superstar. That presents it’s own obstacles to making him my perfect husband. He’s surrounded 24/7 by his freeloading entourage, and it makes it nearly impossible to get close. 

So, what’s a poor kid of 41 from Newark, New Jersey to do? Well, thanks to a mysterious package, a plan hatched in my head. 

It started when this tiny little envelope was dropped off by UPS. It was addressed to me, from some Doctor from New Orleans. Snow? Frost? Something like that. Anyway, I didn’t recognize it, but curiosity got the best of me, so I opened it. When I first looked at it, I wasn’t sure what I was looking at. It looked almost like a decal. One of those plastic stickers you put on car windows and laptop covers. It looked like a viking symbol of some sort, with strange runes around it. Also in the envelope was a cardstock letter from the mysterious sender.

“Dear Sir or Madame, Congratulations on being the first to test our new product, the TømmeRegalia. Imported straight from the mystic fjords of Norway, this unique item allows you to truly step into someone’s shoes. Wondering what we mean? Place the decal on a friend (or foe) and watch the magic and wonder. This is a controlled product release, so please, keep this to yourself. Enjoy, Dr. W.A. Frost Crescent City Trading Company”

Now, to the unimaginative eye, this seems like quite the scam. However, I could see through the doubt. This was the real deal. I looked at the black decal, and immediately tossed it into my messenger bag. I packed my bags and took the first redeye flight to L.A. It was time for me and my beloved to finally unite.

Stepping off the plane, and into the Uber, I meticulously planned my strategy. The ride from LAX to Laguna Beach was a long one, so I had plenty of time. I knew that Jake would be at the Laguna Beach Skatepark for a competition. I also knew he’d be surrounded once again by his damn lackeys. However, there was one opportunity of respite. At exactly 2:25 PM, Paramount Studios would reveal the first trailer for their Star Wars/Star Trek/Stargate/Firefly crossover movie, and ALL eyes would be on that. At that time, all the skaters would head to the trainer to get their muscles worked on. I’d have an extremely small pocket of time between Jake entering the tent, and the trainer entering. That was the plan. 

An hour and a half passed, and the notorious LA traffic proved to be much worse than I anticipated. As 2:25 creeped closer and closer, I needed to think about plan B. Well, I didn’t realize that until I arrived at the park. Thus, Plan B was improvising. 

I paid the ABSURD $180 ticket price, and walked into the park just as the current contender was finishing. To my delight, shredding the half pipe was Jake Rathbone in the flesh. And I mean it when I say “the flesh.” His sparkling, sweaty pecs and abs were on full display, just as I knew that cocky little Adonis would. I watched him fly through the air, spinning and landing the most amazing aerials I’ve ever seen. He had to be mine.

The loud screaming of the foghorn signaled the end of his event, and Jake effortlessly landed on solid ground; immediately flanked by his entourage. I realized immediately that I would never get Jake alone. Yet, the universe struck again, as I noticed one of his little cronies break off from the group, running toward the concession stands. He was no Jake Rathbone, but he was cute enough. Shirtless, he was impressive, with one adorable smile. I thought, yeah, he’ll do.

Seizing the opportunity, I slithered through the crowd toward the kid, pushing past edgy teens and millennial burnouts alike. Decal prepped and ready on the palm of my hand, by the time the cutie realized it, I had already slapped the black symbol on his sweaty bare shoulder. He let out a loud gasp, and stumbled backward, spilling some girl’s lemonade all over him.

“Oh God, you okay, bud?” His eyes fluttered, becoming distant. “Hey, I’ll take you to a bench. You oughta sit down.” I tossed his arm around my shoulder, taking in that youthful pit musk brewing in the California sun, and nearly dragged him to a small patch of shrubbery behind the port-o-potties. With each step, his body became lighter, easier to carry. By the time I dropped him on the ground, he was completely hollow.

I’m telling you I never stripped so quick in my life. I stood there, my chalky white beer gut and grey chest hair seeing the light of day for the first time in decades. I was twice the size of this little stud. It would be a tight squeeze.

I lifted his skin, still slick and warm with musky sweat, and looked for the port of entry. Smirking, I pulled down his damp cotton shorts and stared eagerly at his firm ass. A guilty sniff and some probing later, I took my time stretching his hole open. One arm, two arms... As I slipped more of my fat body into his, I could feel his skin stretching, distorting. The sound of his slick, empty body giving way to mine was almost orgasmic; slurping, creaking, squeaking, and bubbling. 

My arms finally found their way into his, and after that, it was easy-peasy. All I had to do was tug and pull. All said and done, it took 15 minutes to slip inside this bro. Adjusting my face like a mask, I began to take his memories. Quinn. My new name was Quinn. I’d known Jake since childhood. We are best friends. 

I opened my new brown eyes to immediate sensory overload. I could see 20/20. My hearing was better than it had been for years. I smelled the delicious sweaty musk pouring out of my sweaty pits & groin. Fuck, being Quinn was gonna be fun. To make a good situation even better, who should show up but Jake Rathbone, looking for his missing friend.

“Yo! You good? A bunch of people saw you pass out.” I flashed a million dollar smile, and grabbed my idol’s extended hand. 

“Fuck yeah, dude. Just needed a little snooze.” Jake raised an eyebrow, but eventually led me back to the competition. Completely unaware of what’s beneath Quinn’s sweaty, glistening skin; and I was going to take full advantage. I had forever to be with Jake. I’d be at his side day in and day out. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll put my new sexy body to good use. Jake gets so exhausted after skating. He might need a foot massage. Or a back massage. Or a little... cock massage.

[kenzbee]

Blinded - 3 ┊Min Yoongi

┕ pairing: yoongi x reader

┕ genre: fluff, angst (mostly angst)

┕ words: 2.2k

1 / 2 / 3

Summary: There’s a fine balance between work and romance, Yoongi just hasn’t found that balance yet.

The next day, I stared quietly at my laptop. Yoongi had given me a link to the mixtape. Names of the tracks, and the mixtape in its entirety, were missing. I assumed he did it on purpose so I didn’t go snooping to find out who exactly he was. Of course, if he was really that famous, I would be able to actually just look up the lyrics and find out just exactly who this mysterious man truly is. However, he seems to value his privacy. I didn’t really feel like upsetting him and digging too much into it, even though I would be suffocating from curiosity the entire time.

Plugging in my headphones, I clicked on the first track labeled “01”. My ears were immediately met with an upbeat sound that was almost completely jumbled. It was a mess of sound and yet, it sounded so captivating. Agust D? Is that what he was spelling? Before I could think too much, the next track began to play. “02” it was titled. The beat was almost identical to the first.

When I found out Yoongi did music, my first thought was that he was a singer. But dear god, I was horribly misled. This boy- no, this man- was such a godly rapper that I almost forgot how to breathe as I listened to him continuously spit out his lyrics. The song’s beat was my favorite part, the rapping only made it so much better. It was a song basically rubbing his success in his competitions’ faces. The lyrics to this song weren’t anything special, typical songs really, but the way he presented it was fantastic. His unrealistically fast pace draws you in and keeps you gripped. I barely ever heard him talk, and now listening to him fire off syllable after syllable at such a speedy rate was amazing. Thrilling. Captivating.

I took a good break after the second track- that I concluded was titled Agust D or something of the like. I continued to listen to the rest of the mixtape, and soon I slowly began to understand the purpose of this mixtape. After I got over my initial shock from the raw talent he possessed, pieces began to fall into place.

The opening track was him taking credit for all of the success that he had, making it known that his hard work paid off and he’s damn better than any of your second-rate rappers. Then, he took a back track to discuss all of his struggles when it came to obtaining his success. He had struggled with what seemed to be anxiety or depression- maybe even both- but despite it, kept going. He became greedy, though. He let the fame get to his head for a while. After a while, he had to step back to reflect. He looked back on his dreams that once seemed so far away, but yet he was here now.

This mixtape had me going from feeling like I could punch the world in the face to wanting to curl into a ball and cry. The roller coaster of emotions was most definitely worth it, and immediately upon finishing it, I had taken some time to think over everything. After that, I was scrambling to contact Yoongi. I sent a text with no immediate response and soon grew impatient. I settled on calling him.

The line rang momentarily before a clock sounded through my ears. A sigh was heard on the other side, and I quickly sat up on my bed (which I was formerly curled up in the fetal position on). Sniffling quietly, I let out a shaky breath. This seemed to grab his attention.

“Shit, Y/N?” His voice was deeper over the phone. Or maybe I had interrupted his sleep? It was nearly midnight after all. I mentally cursed myself as he continued, “Fuck, did something happen?” Worry drenched his tone.

I sniffed again, wiping my nose. I shook my head no as if he could actually see me, “I listened to your mixtape.” Was all I could manage to breathe out in my current state. I sure was adept at making a complete and utter fool out of myself. 

“Oh yeah?” A chuckled filled my ears. It was such a nice change from the harsh rapping I was hearing earlier. It reminded me that the soft Yoongi I knew definitely existed. “Was it that bad that you felt the need to cry?” He hummed into the phone.

I sunk down onto the bed with a quiet plop, my hair sprawling out around my head. “The opposite actually. I had no idea.”

“No idea about what?” Yoongi inquired. I heard a quiet bit of shifting around him and the sounds of voices around him. Someone was calling for him. I pushed thoughts of who it could be to the back of my mind and continued on with my original mission- to discuss his mixtape and what all it really means.

“Everything.” I was about to go on a complete ramble about everything I felt during the mixtape, but instead sighed. “I concluded one thing though.” I paused, hoping I wasn’t stepping over any boundaries with this. “You’re in a k-pop group, right?” I paused for a second before popping another question, “And... how do you feel? Are you okay?”

Yoongi drew in a long breath. It sounded almost disappointed, and I immediately regretted it. “Yeah.” He sighed. More voices were in the background. “One second, someone is-“

A lot of shuffling was heard this time, until finally, an unfamiliar voice came from the other line. “Hello! The mysterious lady Yoongi has been talking to recently, might I get a name please?”

I stammered, completely awe-struck. I heard voices, but I didn’t think they’d steal Yoongi’s phone. He can be a pretty intimidating guy when he’s serious, I definitely wouldn’t want to play around with his property. As silence hung over us, I soon realized I should probably pipe up. “Sorry. W-who’s this?” My voice definitely cracked at least seventeen times.

“He didn’t even tell you about me? Aish, this guy!” The mystery man sighed, over-exaggerating his exasperation. “I’m Seokjin!” Seokjin exclaimed proudly. I’m sure that if I were in front of him, he’d have a huge smile on his face. Or perhaps a smirk?

“Well, nice to meet you Seokjin. I’m Y/N.” I sighed, a small smile cracking onto my lips. “I’d love to chat, but I was chatting with Yoongi and-“

“Damnit Jin, give it back!” Yoongi suddenly yelled and I stopped speaking entirely. The line went silent momentarily and I presumed that Seokjin conceded in giving back Yoongi’s phone. A bit of shuffling filled my ears again until Yoongi’s usual sigh graced my ears. “Sorry Y/N, we’re in the middle of something. We can chat later.” His tone was a lot harsher than earlier. Why did he have to be so crass?

He hung up abruptly, not giving me much of a chance to utter goodbyes.. It was nearly midnight. What could he possibly be doing? The line went dead and I slowly dropped my phone onto the bed besides my head. A drawn out sigh fell from my lips as I turned onto my side, curling up in a slight ball. Whenever I felt that we were starting to get closer, or that I was beginning to figure him out, he just got farther. Isn’t that pleasant?

He said we would chat later, but his definition of later was a lot longer than mine. Hours turned into days, days into weeks. Weeks into an entire month. What was he possibly doing 24/7 that made it so impossible to send me one little text? At this point, I was craving for his attention that even a simple word would’ve been enough. 

In his absence, I was craving knowledge on his whereabouts that I nearly gave him a quick google search to see what exactly he was apart of. A k-pop group, yes, but how famous are they? How have I not heard of him or seen him at some point?

This ignorance seemed to be short-lived, however. I should’ve figured I couldn’t remain blissfully unaware of his career forever, especially if he’s on as big of a scale as he claimed to be. 

It was a normal day for the most part, except for one major detail. We had one day of break for high schoolers to come and check out the campus. Normally this wouldn’t be too bad, but Mina and I were apart of one of the committees guiding everyone around campus.  Whereas Mina was so incredibly excited for it, I was dreading it completely. As a fresh graduate myself, I still had a pretty good idea on the different types of seniors.

Some would be on this open-campus trip simply to get out of classes. They’d be messing around the entire time and quite frankly, I had plenty of that when I was still their age. Or you would have the chatty bunch that feel the need to comment on every little thing you say, snickering while they’re at it. Perhaps I was being a bit cynical, but I figured high schoolers wouldn’t have changed much since the three years that I graduated.

Things went smoothly enough, and I did my best to drown out their annoying chatter. My curiosity piqued when I heard the mention of... Agust D? I turned to see a girl and a guy walking close together, peering at one of their phones. 

“Honestly though,” The guy sighed, “After hixtape and RM’s second mixtape, can we pllllleeeease,” He threw his hands in the air, grasping the phone tightly, “Have Agust D part two?”

The girl giggled, grabbing the other’s arms and pulling them back down to gaze at the phone. “They’re busy with their Japanese album, I bet.” She sighed, “BTS is always so busy, no wonder that hixtape took like, two years, to come out.”

“Yoongi will do it one day,” The boy frowned, “Until then I’ll just listen to So Far Away on repeat.”

It was at that point that I turned away, deciding to tune out their definitely private conversation. Eavesdropping isn’t something I’m proud to do, but since it was about Yoongi, I could barely resist. Their short conversation definitely cleared a few things up for me. Guilty as I felt for listening in, and finding out about something Yoongi wasn’t comfortable to share with me yet, I was somewhat content now.

Yoongi wasn’t ignoring me because I was a nuisance. He was probably just busy working on another album. Or better yet, another mixtape? The guys I’ve met  around him previously are most certainly apart of that group... BTS. I thought to give him a call on it, but I should just wait until he spills it, right?

Probably.

I already know now, so what’s the harm in digging into their group a little bit? No personal information needed... I just wanted to listen to their songs, or maybe even learn their names.

And I did just that.

I came to easily recognize the face of Yoongi, and his stage name, which was awfully fitting, Suga. I was able to vaguely recognize the one called Hoseok I had met during my second encounter with Yoongi. He was called J-Hope. It was cute and seemingly fitting for such a bright guy. Jungkook was the one I saw at first. If Mina found out about this, she would definitely be all over BTS.

I was able to put a face to the cheerful voice of Seokjin. I thought Jin was simply a nickname from the way Yoongi had used it, but that was apparently his stage name. 

All of their music was uniquely different from most things I’ve heard before. It seemed that with each album, their style evolved into something better and better, constantly outdoing their last. It was amazing that I hadn’t heard of them before considering how absolutely huge they are, especially with international fans.

As I fell deeper into the hole that was k-pop, I was soon pulled back into reality. Nearly a month later since I had initially called Yoongi regarding his mixtape, he had contacted me. After weeks of trying to get a hold of him first, he sent me a small text. My heart fluttered so much I thought that I was going to forget how to breathe.

He was simply requesting to meet up after such a long time of absence, stating plainly that he finally caught a break. Apparently he had a want he wanted to discuss. In person.

With all my newfound information on him, I was almost scared to say yes. But I had been waiting for this moment for essentially an entire month. Of course there was no way I was turning him down now.

Although, in hindsight, I kind of wished that I did.

[khelinski]

Snow White Mondays

For whoever is reading this - if you have any talents at all, don’t give up on it. Harness it. Perfect it. Keep at it.

And share it.

Exactly ten years ago, Karii Lynn wrote this story. A year later, she shared it with me.

She’s been gone for two years now...but...her words live on.

This is a tough read, but it’s a great read.  She was a natural writer. I wish she had more time to write more.

💙💙💙

October 12, 2010

Snow White Mondays

By: Karii Lynn

She always visits me on Mondays. Or maybe Wednesdays? Sundays perhaps? I've no idea honestly. They might've changed the names of the weekdays for all I'm aware.

All I'm aware of is those bright days filled with long blonde hair and hazel eyes. Her beautiful voice telling me stories of useless everyday drama. Sometimes she'll even sing, though only loud enough for me to hear.

Every Monday she brings me a daisy. My namesake flower, so of course I’ve kept them all.

On these days I forget. I forget about the mirrors.

_______________________________

New York State Psychiatric Institute

Daisy Todd                                                                               Case No.: 446, 7058                                                                  

Admission Date: 10/12/15   Date of Birth: 9/7/1992

BACKGROUND INFORMATION: Ms. Todd was born in Chicago, Illinois. She currently resides in New York City.

Her father passed some years ago and the mother does not seem to want any contact. She does have a girlfriend who regularly visits.

Ms. Todd does not currently appear to be following a career path. Instead she seems to be selling artwork from her Bronx apartment.

_______________________________

It's Monday again.

Melody is here. My singing beauty. My snow white princess.

She tells me about her boss, Madian. She doesn't like him. He makes her eyes turn blue. I've decided I don't like him either.

When it's my turn to talk, I speak of leaves. It must be April by now, right? It's been winter for so long in my room. It’s so white in here. Sometimes I think I see snow falling from my whitewhite ceiling. I brush it off but it refuses to budge. Often, I try to push it into piles and organize it on the floor.

When I tell Melody this she smiles sadly. Then she kisses me on the forehead and leaves.

Another Monday gone. Now I'm left alone, alone with the reflections.

_______________________________

PREVIOUS MEDICAL HISTORY: Ms. Todd appears to have no previously noted medical conditions. She has never been to a counselor or therapist. The trigger for this change of behavior is unknown.

_______________________________

I miss painting. And drawing.

The canvas was always blank and waiting. Waiting for me to change it, influence it. And oh, the things I could do. I was wonderful, wasn't I?

"You always were so self-centered," Melody smirks playfully. Yes I'm sure I was. It's hard to remember days without snow. The snow and cold.

I don’t know what I might paint if I were even allowed. I’ve nearly forgotten color, something that was once so important to me. I believe first, I would paint my room yellow. Then, maybe I would paint a daisy. A painting of every daisy Melody has brought me on our Mondays.

They would be lovely works of art. Museum worthy no doubt.

"You’re so narcissistic! Do you remember what you used to say, baby? Remember? 'I'm just soo curious!' Personally, I think it was just an excuse to look at yourself longer," she says laughing softly. She’s having a good day.

A cold sweat breaks out over my face. Curiosity. It killed the cat. The cat, the cat. All dressed in black. The cat who looked in the mirror too long. The cat who discovered the secret on the other side. It took her on a horrible riderideride.

I can see them now. Melody helped me forget, but now. Ohgodohgod.

My eyes are closed. When I open them I find I'm under the bed, a safe place in my little ice igloo.

"Watch out, babydoll," I warnwarnwarn my Melody. Can't have her pretty face hurt by them. "Can't you see them?!" Their creeping, crawling, slithering.

My eyes are closed again. I'm lost, drowning in my fear. When I come around again, my arms are trapped to the bed. Trapped by white, ice tendrils.

Melody leaves me. One sad green eye covered by her hand. This is not entirely rare. The dark figures often get her before she leaves. I'm quite a bad hero.

Goodbye, Monday.

_______________________________

PRIOR TO THE INCIDENT: According to Melody Artem, the patient's girlfriend, Ms. Todd was displaying unusual behaviors about 6 months previously. Losing sleep, obsessing over insignificant things, and uncleanliness of her living space. Ms. Artem also described a serious obsession with mirrors.

Apparently Ms. Todd proceeded to smash all the mirrors in her apartment. Behind them, scribbles covered the walls. "Cannot have it", "leave me alone", and "not crazy" are among the various phrases.  

_______________________________

"If I should call you up, invest a dime, and you'd say you belong to me, and ease my mind..."

So happy together. My Melody and I. How she used to hold me tightly all the night through. Warmth, skin, and true love. My forever girl. That one that you can never live without.

The white maidens that the tuck me in say we're so adorable together. I think they watch us when Melody comes to see me on Mondays. Maybe that's why she sings so quietly? How very rude indeed.

Sometimes I remember what colors are like. On the outside. When I wasn't dangerous. That's what the maidens say at least. They say I cause the bruises on my dear Melody’s face. I beg to differ, but who shall listen to my frail vocals? Just because they can't see...

Anyway, color. The dates. Sweater dates were my favorite. October, of course. Walking the corn mazes pretending to be lost, donuts and cider in hand. Stopping for kisses and peeing in the dense spots, laughing all the while.

That ended of course. When I stopped eating and discovered what lay on the other side. Who watched when you thought you were alone. They can't take what you don't have, right? The smaller I was, the less there was to steal.

Melody wasn't happy, though. She didn't understand. She used to bake me lovely meals, absolutely delicious delights. My favorite food every day. Chickenchickenchicken. But I would turn my head away after a few bites. I had to. Really, I did. I wasn't trying to make her cry. I tell the maidens that every time they bring me my mashed potatoes. It wasn't my fault. Blame the darkdarkdark figures.

I try to tell her this on Monday. To apologize. But I get choked up on darkness and have to stay under the bed again. On the bright side, I had a nice visit with her feet.  Converse, I believe. I thank them for carrying her to me every Monday.

_______________________________

INCIDENT REPORT: Patient was found in her home by her girlfriend. Ms. Todd had broken every mirror in her home (there was an unusual amount considering the apartment size) and proceeded to harm herself. Clumps of her hair seemed to have been ripped out and it appeared to have been several days since her last meal. Garbage was plentiful and the apartment was a mess. Paint was splattered everywhere and most of her prized art work was in tattered ruins.

We are unsure of her intentions, logical or otherwise. Since arrival, Ms. Todd has displayed many psychotic symptoms including, but not limited to: muttering, hallucinations, disordered thinking, trouble concentrating, repetitive and regressive behaviors. Due to these factors, Ms. Todd has been unable to give us an accurate account of the cause of her actions and is being kept in a separate inpatient ward.

___________________________

I'm so very tired of white. Bored perhaps? I wish it were red in here. Red walls, red floors, red stars.

When I felt like getting out of bed one Tuesday (for it couldn't have been Monday, my Melody's chair was vacant.) I try to paint. I discovered once with my mirrors that there is paint hidden under my skin. How useful indeed. This way I shall never run out. Very good for my budget. I should tell Melody this secret, she can take it with her to economics class. What a hero she will be.

Unfortunately, the snow maidens do not like my painting. They bumbled about howling about the wounds. “How did she manage this?!” How indeed. Teethteethteeth. They stitched my paper skin back together though, thus stifling my masterpiece.  Oh the woes of an artist.

I am put on punishment. Forced to spend several days strapped to my snowbed by icicle handcuffs. How they make me cold.

Maybe I am dangerous? A danger to myself and to my dear, sweet, lovely girl. Why did I do that, I wonder blankly. As I watch from my straps, the janitor cleans my paint from the wall and I continue to wonder.

Maybe I am crazy. Psycho. Loonytoons. Bananacrackers.

But then the whispers come from beneath my bed, and I know that I'm not the one who cannot see properly. "Silly thoughts you're having, Daisy darling. Do you doubt?" I spend the next few Mondays convincing them of my belief. If I say the right things they won't touch me as much, my dark and painful lovers.

Oh, where is my Melody?

_______________________________

It didn't used to be like this. She used to be normal. I'm not sure what went wrong, what I did wrong.

We began dating my freshmen year, her junior. It was confusing and new, but we fit together so perfectly. There were rough patches, but nothing any normal teenage relationship doesn't go through. We were so in love, but I suppose even the strongest of love can’t save someone from themselves.

It was normal enough. We moved to New York two years ago. We decided to get separate apartments like we'd always planned. Though I would've been completely satisfied living together, Daisy had always liked her independence and space. So while I attended NY Medical College, she sold paintings, sketches, and anything art related from her home. I was often jealous of the easy life she led as I dragged my book bags up the stairs to her sixth floor apartment.

I noticed the changes about six months ago. I'm not sure what caused them. Did something happen she didn't tell me about?

The first sign was her refusal to eat normally. It started off with little things. First claiming to hate foods she'd previously liked. Then refusing to eat healthy amounts of what she would tolerate. Eventually, I don't think she was even eating five hundred calories a day.

I tried everything. I cooked, I brought takeout, I took her out. Nothing. I ordered, screamed, begged, and sobbed. Nothing. Daisy just turned away from my emotions and back to her paintings. She always said it wasn't her fault. What wasn't her fault?!

Then came the mirrors. It seemed like every time I visited there was a new one. Tacked up lopsided, leaning against a wall, and even on top of the refrigerator. Not only that, but her paintings began taking on a sinister theme. Twisted limbs and dark shadows seemed to reoccur the most.

Everything came crashing down the day I forced myself into the apartment. She hadn't been answering my calls all day, but I'd been unable to get over there until late because I had work. It had been almost three weeks since I'd been inside her home. She kept claiming to have some masterpiece she was working on that I couldn't see. I had reluctantly agreed to give her privacy.

That was the biggest mistake I have ever made.

When I arrived on October 11 and received no answer at the door, I got a spare key from the building manager and let myself in. The sight I met was horrifying.

Daisy was sitting in the middle of her studio apartment, naked and bleeding. She was surrounded by her blonde hair (stained pink by blood) and shards of mirror. Muttering about darkness and rocking, she continued to carve line after line into every inch of available skin. She didn't notice me. Since October 12, 2015, Daisy Todd has been a patient at the New York State Psychiatric Institute.

It's been 3 years. _______________________________

PROGNOSIS: Based on observations, Ms. Todd appears to suffer from Disorganized and Paranoid Schizophrenia. Hospitalization is recommended, but not required. Patient is being prescribed Clozapine, an antipsychotic.

_______________________________

My baby came back today. They haven't let her come since I tried to paint on the wall. (Silly Daisy, you're not a child. You should know better than to paint on the walls. Badbadbad.)

She holds my hand for a long while, a faraway look in her eye. Is she tired of our Mondays together?

"No, darling, I'm not. It's just..." She doesn't finish. I feel quite curious, maybe even worried. Doesn't she love me anymore?

"You know I do. I promised forever didn't I?" Her eyes are red. Were they that way when she arrived? I cannot remember.

My mind is spinning. Maybe she doesn't want my forever anymore. Someone else has come along, I'm sure of this. My baby darling dear.

I shake my head, trying to bump the silly thoughts outoutout. They make my Melody's eyes water. My onion-like thoughts.

I wish I were better. I just don't know how.

I'll try harder.

_______________________________

Daisy Todd                                                                               Case No.: 446, 7058   Date of Birth: 9/7/1992                                                               Admission Date: 10/12/15   Release Date: 4/7/19

_______________________________

It's Monday but it feels different. The door is still open and Melody is already inside.

The doctor comes in, the head wizard. His cheeks are red and his expression flustered. "I don't really think this is wise..."

"I've already signed the papers." Melody seems determined. I can't imagine what about. Maybe she's trying to get the maidens to paint my room a different color. Yellow perhaps? How pleased I would be.

Suddenly, my icicle handcuffs are gone, my feet are on the floor and Melody is wrapping a coat around my shoulders. A coat!

But that's not all! I'm leaving the igloo, out the door and into the...is that sun? Oh, sunlight indeed! The colors! It is spring after all! I survived the harsh winter.

"Yes you did, honey," Melody tells me rather tiredly. "We're going home now."

_______________________________

Home.

Such a simple word with such a grand meaning.

Here the walls are all different colors. I'm led through the kitchen. Royal blue. Shown the bathroom. Pumpkin orange. Introduced to the living room. Forest green. And last, our bedroom. Crayon yellow.

This is true love indeed.

I peek cautiously around every corner I'm shown. No mirrors. No shadow figures can get me here. Not really. Not quite.

Though I've spent many a Monday in bed, the first thing we do in our new home is sleep. Lying on the bed curled together, her nose pressed into my hospital hair, feels foreign yet familiar. Like a long, lost memory. You never forget how to ride a bike, you know. I suppose this is the same thing.

As I drift away, comforted by the arms locked around my waist and the warm breath on my shoulder, I can feel Melody shaking.

"You'll be okay, baby. Maybe not the same as before, but it'll work. I'll fix you. We never even have to leave this bed if you don't want to. Anything to make you happy and alright. Apple cider and donuts everyday if you like. We can paint all over the walls or watch every movie from the video store or read every book you’ve never read. Oh my poor darling, nothing matters except that you're back with me. In my arms, safe..."

Sobs wrack her body. I roll over and press my face into her neck. Squeezing tighter, I mutter softly how lovely yellow the room is and float into safe oblivion.

_______________________________

Home has rules:

1. Must take my white pill at proper times. 2. DO NOT SKIP TAKING IT. 3. Must eat my required three meals a day. 4. No mirrors may be purchased or brought into the apartment. 5. No bodily harm may be done to myself. 6. No putting myself down. 7. Privileges such as: driving, working, leaving the house, and painting must be earned. 8 All cleaning supplies and sharp utensils are to be kept locked away. No snooping. 9. Must call Melody immediately if anything happens while she's away. 10. Must attend therapy appointment weekly.

_______________________________

Melody has spent the first week home with me. She took work off. Oddly, I don't remember her having a job when I entered the snow world. But I don't mention this. I don't think I want to know the answer.

But today is the first day I'm to be left alone. Melody seems more nervous than I. Silly baby. She writes down her cell phone and pager number on four different sticky notes and posts them around the apartment, in case something happens and I can't get to one of the other three.

I laugh quietly and push her gently out, "I'll be fine, promisepromise." She runs her hands through her long hair several times, but eventually leaves.

I sit on the couch. And wait.

I wait for them to come. My painful lovers.

They don't. And I believe I might be safe.

_______________________________

Life goes on softly for several months. I eat leftover toast when I get up and paint for several hours after. I avoid looking in corners and focus on my work, the task at hand.

My paintings are different now. I no longer paint severed arms, legs and heads. Or the blood that flows so freely below the softsoft skin. I pretend that I don't want to paint the shadows. Instead, I paint trees, leaves, and oceans.

I do not paint snow.

In the evenings, Melody makes dinner, often refusing my help. I've never been any good at cooking. Or anything related to kitchens really. Even Koolaid is almost too complicated for me.

Afterwards, we watch TV and make deadpan jokes about the ridiculous shows. Melody writes medical reports and I read fantasy books. Sometimes I consider looking for jobs, but then the cold fear washes through me and I press deeper into my novel.

I don't want to go out there, especially by myself. I'd be so open to attack. All those...the shadows. The creeping bodies and reaching rough hands. I don't tell this to Melody.

Everything went smoothly for a while.

But it wasn't meant to last.

_______________________________

I am pacing. Anxiety racing through my body.

I've broken a rule. Two actually.

I've stopped taking the little white pill. Nine days now. It was making me sick, you see. Blocking the reality and my creativity.

Except that the shadows are back. Squeezing through the cracks of the doors, the windows, the closets.

That's the difference. They stay trapped on the other side of the mirror if you don't know they're there. But once you do, it releases them. Freed from their glass prisons, they creepcrawlscrape their way towards you.

Why? What did you do? You looked in the mirror too long, that's what. It's your own fault. You deserved this, you baddirtywhore.

I was only walking home, took the alley shortcut. Dirty. Pretty girl. Out they came. Handshandshands. Ruined my shirt, my skirt. Slut. How pretty I was that evening. Your fault. The mirror. Shouldn't have looked into the mirror for so long after. Vunerable. Beauty. They saw my soul, tried to have it. It's mineminemine. Go away.

Go away. away. away. away.

_______________________________

Daisy's acting strange. Sometimes, I think I hear her talking to herself. It's indistinct, but still. I've checked her pills, but she still seems to be taking them normally.

I don't know what to do. I'm so scared. I don't want to lose her again. I don't think I can bear spending every evening in that hospital again. Watching her deteriorate on that impersonal bed, in that impersonal room.

I'll call the doctor in the morning.

_______________________________

REPORT UPDATE: 12/21/19

Patient's girlfriend, Melody Artem reported recent unusual behavior. Ms. Todd seems to be withdrawing into herself and is displaying alarming signs. Talking to herself, depressing paintings, strange bruises and scratches, and weight loss. Patient appears to be continuing to take prescribed medicine.

Ms. Artem works long hours and cannot watch Ms. Todd constantly. The hospital is considering revoking Ms. Artem's custody rights if Ms. Todd becomes further unstable.  

_______________________________

I found a mirror. Hidden behind a photoframe in the hallway. I knew they were getting in somehow. Their doorway.

This time, I'll stop them. Stop the hands that touch.

I willwillwill.

Daisy the hero. Blood soaked beautiful hero.

_______________________________

It's been about three weeks now since Daisy started changing. I've tried to ignore it, but I can hear her chanting in the bathroom again. It's frightening.

"Daisy?" I'm knocking softy on the bathroom door, trying the keep the fear from my voice. "You alright, baby? Can I bring you anything?"

No answer.

I try the handle. Locked. Shit. _______________________________ I've stolen the mirror from behind the photo. Keep your friends close, your enemies closer.

Close. Red. Dark is creeping. Do you see it? Slipping beneath the door? The tub is filling up behind me. Black. The midnight beast. I ignore it, I'm on a mission.

SuperheroDaisy.

_______________________________

She's humming. Humming Spiderman. What the hells going on?!

Walking to the bedroom, I begin pulling open drawers, searching for the bathroom key. When I fail to locate it in my dresser, I turn to hers. Dread washes over me. I begin pulling open the drawers, removing shirts, socks, shorts.

A pile of pills hidden between her underwear. Her Clozapine. That explains alot. And beneath her sweatpants...

"Mirror mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?"

My head whips around. I choke on a scream.

"Pretty isn't it? I used to watch 'Snow White' constantly as a child. Sometimes I dream about the wishing well." She's smiling widely, no fear in her eyes, only triumph.

In her hand she's clutching the sharp remains of the only mirror in the whole apartment. It's covered in blood. Across her arms she's made long gashes. Her shirt is torn and the scars from before have been ripped open. Her bare legs are almost completely covered in red, pale skin nearly gone from view. Slices trace her facial features, almost artistically.

The most noticeable thing about my horrifying Daisy however, is the pride radiating off her in waves. She's proud of what she's done. More proud of this disaster than of any painting she's ever sold. Almost as if she's won something. That's the most frightening thing of all.

"Come on h-honey, let's go get you cleaned up," my voice is shaking uncontrollably.

She's shaking her head, frowning. "I'm fine, babydoll. All better. See?" She spreads her arms wide and spins, not seeming to notice the blood staining the carpet in the process. "I actually just wanted to lie down for a few minutes. Just a few. Please?"

"I..." What do I say? "After a shower, alright?"

I convince Daisy to bathe. She doesn't seem to notice the cuts or feel any pain from them.

Afterwards we lay down in bed. I'm shaking and scared, but this is still my Daisy and though she hurt herself, she won't hurt me. I'll take her back to the hospital in the morning; it's the only thing to do. There's no hope. But for now I just want to enjoy my last night with her. God, I love her so.

"Hold me?" Daisy's green eyes are pleading and scared. I do. Outside, snow begins to fall.

[readyreddie]

Coming Out

It is now officially National Coming Out Day. I just want all my followers to know I love and support you all through all your trough tough times and all your good times as well. If you plan on coming out today good luck! If not, don’t worry about it. Go at your own pace. In the mean time have 4 chapters of how I think  5 of the Losers would come out. Starting with Bev and Richie! (I am still trying to get back into the swing of writing after a year or two off so please give me any feedback you have)

also @bxxpbxxprichie​ asked to be tagged so here ya go. If anyone else asked I might’ve missed it so just shoot me a message telling me to tag you in the future chapters. and this is going on my ao3, here

At 14 years old Richie Tozier had lived a… fairly complicated life. Killing a psycho demon clown, getting bullied relentlessly, having parents who don’t give a rat’s ass about him, and lacking a pure common-sense filter for his mouth were all things that had assured him a strange upbringing. He was sure that he really could do without any more drama coming into his life for at least the next 7 years; however, his body and mind had decided to give him one last fuck you before he could settle down. His huge fucking crush on his best friend, Eddie Kaspbrak, and just all-around attraction to other boys.

Now, Richie still thought girls were plenty hot. He had no trouble picturing himself making out with a girl like Molly Ringwald, but he also could just as easily occupy his mind with thoughts of Rob Lowe’s lips on him. Even more so than Robe Lowe, Richie could picture himself holding hands, and cuddling with Eddie.

The thought of keeping his opinions on both boys and girls a secret did not appeal to Richie at all, so he decided he needed to tell someone. Eddie was immediately out due to the fact that he was the boy Richie was crushing on, and Richie didn’t feel too comfortably telling any of the guy losers right now. He trusted them all but for some reason it just didn’t seem right to him. He decided to tell Bev first and the others all at once with Bev’s help.

On October 11th 1990, Richie Tozier had somehow found himself standing in front of Bev Marsh’s house, he had no idea how he got here or what he was going to say now that he was here, but he rang the doorbell anyway. Ding dong, ding dong, it rang twice and not 5 second after the second dong did Bev open the door. As Molly Ringwald stood there staring at Richie Tozier expecting him to say the first word like he always does, Richie just let it slip.

“I LIKE BOYS!”

Beverly Marsh knew the different rumors that had seemed to follow her around for what seems like her whole life. Slut, bitch, and piece of shit were just some of the colorful insults girls and guys alike had taken to calling her. None of those ever quite hurt her as much as the word dyke. Every time someone called her…that word, it seemed to leave an extra terrible feeling in her body. Beverly did not think it was because she was gay. She knew she had feelings for at least two boys, but she also knew that she had no problem seeing herself falling in love with a woman one day.

Beverly never thought much of it. She didn’t really flaunt it, nor did she see the need to tell anyone unless she was explicitly asked by someone she trusted. The red headed girl kind of just wanted to make it through high school by blending in with the crowd, and coming out to people would make that very difficult. Bev had thought she could keep to that plan, telling loud mouthed Richie Tozier did not seem like a great way to keep her secret. Yet, here Richie was, telling her something of equal value, and trusting her with one of his biggest secrets. How could she not trust him in the same way? Trust is a two-way street after all.

“That’s cool Rich, I also like boys.” She grinned at him, he was still wide eyed after blurting out something he clearly had not meant to say. “Girls are pretty hot too.” Her grin turned into a wide smile, as her cheeks flushed as she finally said the words aloud.

“Haha, I think so too Molly.” After that brief exchange at her door way she invited Richie inside to hang out. They talked normal stuff for a while before getting back to the topic they had started with.

“Richie, have you told anyone else yet?” Bev stroked his arm to grab his attention and reassure him that everything was okay.

“Not a soul, madam” The British voice was coming out which meant Richie was nervous as hell. Beverly thought of her next words carefully, Richie acted tough but when dealing with him you had tread very carefully otherwise he would shut down. She knew that it would drive him insane to have to keep a secret from any of the Losers, and that even if he could do it for a while he would eventually get torn apart deciding how to tell them.

“Well…do you wanna go tell them together?” She saw his face go on a whole road trip. His emotions clearly showing at each road sign: surprise, to confusion, to worry, and finally landing at resolve.

“Well that just sounds like the swellest idear, mah—”

“Beep beep Richie. No voices for this answer”

“Yea that sound’s nice, I think the sooner the better will be good for me. I will call them and get everyone together sometime this week. Are you sure you are okay with this?” Richie’s face seemed to express actual concern, an emotion Beverly had only seen him wear openly two other times. Both included when Eddie was hurt.

“Yea, I don’t mind telling you guys. It is the other towns people that scare the shit out of me.”

Two days after that conversation Eddie, Bill, Stan, Mike and Ben all sat in a circle at the quarry. Eddie and Stan had been there for about 10 minutes before the other 3 had shown up together. They had been growing impatient at the tardiness of the group, specifically Richie who had called this meeting of the 7.

“Where the hell is he?!?” Eddie yelled at no one in particular, and a silence began to fill what had already been quiet conversation between the small group.

Mike responded once it seemed like no one else was going to. “No idea, Eddie. But, you know how he is, he will probably be here soon.” About 5 minutes later just when everyone was sure Eddie was about to lose his shit they saw a Trashmouth barreling down towards them at a pace that would give a cheetah good competition. His long lanky legs propelling him forward faster than any of the Losers had seen him run before. Beverly could be seen in the distance casually sauntering behind the hyperactive loser.

“GUESS WHAT GUYS!!!!!!” Everyone heard Richie yell. He reached the little clearing the Losers were sitting in and stood trying to catch his breath. A little winded from his sprint down to the area.

“What, Richie?” Eddie snapped at him, “I don’t suppose you are gonna apologize for being late.”

“Oh, no. Nothing like that my dear Eds.”

“Don’t call me th—” and before Eddie could finish telling Richie off he yelled something that only one of the seven losers were expecting.

“I LIKE GUYS!!!” He yelled beaming like he hadn’t just said something as surprising as revealing his sexuality.

“W-w-wait, w-wa-what?” Bill asked, stutter worse than usual showing that he was just as taken back as the other 5 who had just been sitting in the quiet, the only noise just 30 seconds earlier being Eddie’s seething anger.

“I like guys. Like, I like the idea of my tongue down Eddie’s Spaghetti’s cute little mouth.” He pinched Eddie’s cheek.

“Fuck off Trashmotuh!” Eddie pushed him off but Stan and Ben could’ve sworn they saw him blush. “And when did you figure this out about yourself.”

“Hmm, I think it was right around the time your mom, Ms. K, brought a second man into our sacred bed. At first I was surprised bu—”

“Beep beep, Richie.” Bev cut him off once she decided he was no longer being productive.

“Oh right! Our very own Molly Ringwald has something to add.” Richie bowed and gestured over to Beverly who was standing right between Bill and Ben.

“Did you know?” Stan asked the girl, just out of curiosity since they seemed to have come to the quarry together.

“Yeah, he told me two days ago. But that isn’t what he meant. He called everyone so that we both could come out. TOGETHER.” She glared at Richie who looked away whistling. “He just yelled it before I could get down here. But, yeah, I like girls and boys. Richie still likes girls by the way. I would let him tell you himself but I don’t think he is gonna be very focused right now.”

“Well that’s cool g-g-guys, you know we don’t care.” Bill said first, as the honorary leader of the group everyone had kind of looked to him to respond to big news first.

“Yea, what Bill said. I am just glad you guys trusted us to tell us.” Mike smiled as he pulled them both into a hug, which all the losers quickly followed him into.

[hardblazesong]

Noir Nocturne Part 1 Chapter 7 Further Exposition

Jamie got control of his temper by the time they got to the door of the house, but it was a close thing. The talk the men had had outside had not gone well. He knew Murtagh wouldn’t hurt Claire for love nor money but Dougal and Angus were like ill-tempered bulls even when not faced with life altering circumstances. He was also beginning to suspect that they both might have feelings for Claire that were not welcome.

He recognized this could just be jealousy on his part, but he was new at being in love. He’d been infatuated a time or two, but that was entirely a different thing, and this new state of being was confusing. He wanted to protect her, provide for her and show her off whilst also wanting to hide her away from anyone or anything not himself. He also thought he had a duty, as her husband, to guide her, not be led by her. Six weeks of being her friend and three days of being her husband were just not enough to show him the ways of it.

His mother had died too early in his life for him to really know what he expected from a wife. His father had obviously loved his mother, but he wasn’t privy to the inner workings of their marriage. Now he had a completely different time to adjust to as well. He had expected to take her home to Lollybroch at some point. He understood that life, wanted that life. Would there be a way to make something like it here? He’d studied history. He knew people didn’t change as much as the times did. Still, nearly two hundred years had passed. He was just going to have to let events unfold and pray that she could come to love him enough that they could make it work.

“Jamie? In here please.” Claire said leading him across a porch and through a door off to the side where the others had disappeared while he was mulling over his circumstances. He smiled down at her while trying unobtrusively to notice everything at once.

The room was large and so white. Everything gleamed and looked familiar but strange and much too bright. He noted a fair few cabinets, and a large round table with eight chairs off to one side. The floor was like nothing he had ever seen. It wasn’t tile, marble, wood or packed dirt. It shone as well. There were no candles, and he couldn’t see a fireplace, but did see something that looked like it could be an oven of sorts.

“Have a seat with your friends you two. I’ll put a kettle on and get the Sister here shortly.” Father McDaniel said as he waved in the direction of the table. Jamie heard a clicking noise, saw the Priest take a small box down from a shelf and pull out a tiny stick that he somehow kindled and lit a flame with on top of the oven type box object. He gasped, as did Angus.

Claire giggled as she sat down at the table. “We must have missed the light switch, just look at your faces! Electricity, gas and indoor plumbing that does not include chamber pots, oh my.”

Jamie sat as close to her as he could at the table and took her hand under it. “What did he just do over there Sassenach? Is that for cooking that thing he’s standing at? Is everything so bright in this time? What is this floor made of? Why do I smell lemons but canna see any? Do all homes now have so many windows?” He would have gone on but the look on her face stopped him. She was gazing at him as if he were a small child and she was trying not to laugh at his curiosity.

Father McDaniel laughed outright. “Oh, this is going to be one of the great joys of my life, educating you lot. Let us try not to get ahead of ourselves though. Perhaps you could take a few minutes to point things out to them and make the tea while I call for some assistance Mrs. Fraser?” He then stepped into a small alcove and they all heard him speaking to someone they couldn’t see “Yes, yes, come here now. Yes, I know it’s late. No, nothing’s wrong, just come here and be quick about it.”

Claire stood up and started to describe what was in the room to them while she looked for items in the cupboards. “That is an oven with a cooking surface, this is indoor plumbing called a sink which has running water. That rectangular object is called a refrigerator, you store food in it, like a pantry. He lit the stovetop with a match, not magic. This, thank God! Is Earl Grey tea! That’s to toast bread. This is a bread box.” She seemed to be having a good time pointing at and collecting things so Jamie just enjoyed the novelty of it and her typical nonstop manner. He tried not to think about all that she knew that he didn’t, that way lay madness.

“So, there’s food in here then? This is a Kitchen? What’s to eat?” Angus nearly shouted at her.

Father McDaniel came back in and stepped to the refrigerator where he began taking out assorted foodstuffs. He moved to a counter top and started to make sandwiches with some leftover ham. “No need to fret Son. They’ll be plenty with some to spare for the next part of your journey.” He then opened yet another cabinet and took out a bottle, and collected six small glasses.  “Here, a bit of the old sod won’t go amiss while the tea steeps. Purely medicinal you understand.” He handed a wee tot to each of them and lifted his own glass in a toast. “Here’s to new friends from very old times and one lovely lady to see to their welfare!”

The men all saluted with their glasses and drank quickly having known from the aroma a good whiskey when they smelled it. Jamie looked askance at him though. He knew about Prohibition after all. It’s what had nearly started a brawl outside. “Father, how did you come by that bottle? I thought it wasna’ permitted?”

Father McDaniel shrugged and looked at Claire “Told him did ya lassie? Might have wanted to wait on that one. Ah well, I have my ways Son, I have my ways. Now get to eating or there will be no end of trouble with the Sister if she gets here and finds you drinking.” He laid a platter of sandwiches on the table along with jars of mustard, pickles, onions and assorted other nibbles.

Claire handed each of them a plate and brought the tea things to the table along with cutlery. She shook her head and teased him saying “I know you must be out of sorts as well Father if you are letting them eat without saying grace. Thank you just the same for everything.” She then sat back down by Jamie and reached for his hand again under the table, giving it a gentle squeeze of reassurance.

“You wanted to know more of my story Father? Well, in 1945 I was in Scotland, um vacationing, when I happened upon a circle of standing stones. I heard a strange buzzing noise and reached out to the tallest stone and the next thing I knew I was in the midst of a skirmish between these men and some Redcoats. They believed me to be some sort of spy and led me back to their Larid and his lands to keep an eye on me. I thought I was being kidnapped until I understood it to be 1743. I then tried to fit into their world as a healer, I’m a nurse you see, while I tried to figure out a way to get back to the stones and my own time. Meanwhile, Jamie here had been injured and while tending him, we became friends. It took a great deal to adapt to the situation I found myself in Father. It was not easy and I thought it possible that I would never return and certainly did not expect to be transported here and now by yet another mystical means. Circumstances beyond our control led to Jamie and I being wed. It had to do with clan politics and a nefarious Captain in the Dragoons, but that is another tale.” She stopped there and Jamie saw her frown and give the Father the oddest look, as if she were silencing him into keeping secrets.

“Ahem, yes, well, I am sure we can talk more on this soon Claire.” Father McDaniel said with a sage look at her. Jamie wasn’t sure what was going on between them but they appeared to have some sort of unspoken agreement. It made him uneasy and he didn’t know why.

The Nun, Sister Mary Margaret appeared in the doorway and coughed. She looked astonished and wary to Jamie. He saw her take in the sight of them all in the kitchen late at night and then look at the Father as if he might be losing his mind. “You needed assistance Father?”

“Yes, take a couple of these men to the stores in the basement and outfit them with a couple changes of clothing, some undergarments and coats and hats. Give them a blanket each as well. Then come back and do the same for the other two. Then take Mrs. Fraser and outfit her too. She will be needing a sundries kit bag as well Sister.” He then pointed at Murtagh and Angus and said “Go along with the Sister. We’ll all be sitting right here when you get back laddies.”

Jamie hid his grin in a bite of the sandwich. He knew Murtagh wasn’t inclined to go anywhere without him and wouldn’t like missing anything that would be said in his absence. Claire beamed her brightest smile at the two of them and told them it was the thing to do. He couldn’t help but feel proud at that. She was so clever and even though she sometimes spoke without thinking she appeared to know that they were taking her lead gracefully and wasn’t using her authoritative tone anymore.

“Father, where can we find lodging and employment?” Claire asked after they’d gone. “We also will need to find a pawn shop.”

“OH, I have that all sorted my dear. You are going to need to walk a couple of miles tonight to where they are building an outdoor Greek Theater. You can kip for the night under the stage. In the morning, you will be heading to Mrs. Barnett’s Boarding house which is close to an employment center in Hollywood. I also have the address for a reputable Pawn Shop and I will be phoning ahead to all three places to be expecting you. I will draw maps, so you won’t be getting lost. We don’t have a shelter here and the church bus isn’t kept here at night, so I have to be sending you out on foot sadly. I expect you to phone me first thing after you have settled into your lodging. That’s not too much to be asking, do you think?” He asked while smiling and giving the three of them a stern look under his brows.

“No Father, it is most definitely not.” Claire had what looked to be tears in her eyes when she said this. Jaimie understood her emotion. He felt very grateful himself.

“Yer a good man Father. I thank you for your kindness.” Dougal said, surprising them all as he had been unusually quiet in the kitchen.

“Ah think nothing of it. You know I’ll be expecting you all back for Mass and we can always use a bit of help around here. Mrs. Fraser, I believe I know a clinic that could use your help as well. They won’t be asking too many questions when I phone them. You wouldn’t happen to speak Spanish, would you?”

TO BE CONTINUED