#in which they told us to work harder while they sat on their couches at home completely safe from covid

[wintermage]

feeling that level of work burnout where not only am i burnt out on my current job, i can’t imagine any job in any industry being any better.

[mooooonnnzz]

World/Insured Part 3

Stanford Pines x Sibling!Reader/Stanley Pines x Sibling!Reader

☆ hope you guys r liking it so far!! :p

☆ 4,4k words

✶ “Can we talk about [Name]?” Ford suddenly brings up one day. The waves of tourists have been moderately slow for the day, allowing Stan and Ford to kick back and relax for once. And in the midst of sitting down on the couch, his mind dwelled over to the thought of you. Stan let out a long sigh as he sat down, pitt cola in hand. Stan was trying to break free from his alcohol addiction, Ford noted. “Sure, what do you want to talk about?” The causality held in Stan’s words made Ford uneasy. He was so unnaturally calm with his words, at least the last time he brought you up, he can sense the agitation in his words, but he couldn’t find any dripping anger from him now. Mustering up all the courage he had left, he asked; “How were they?” He felt his mouth run dry. Out of everything he could’ve asked, he asked that? All the questions he had were out the window and off into the woods, leaving him scrambling for words. Taking a sip from his soda, he said, “Do you want to know how they felt immediately after they left with me?” Ford nods. “Well, being fifteen and a rage of hormones, they pretty much hated you.” Stan’s eyes glance over to Ford whose face could visibly read hurt. “I’m just kidding!” Stan cackled, shoving Ford. “They were ripped apart. I remember they told me how they felt everything and nothing at the same time, real poetic than one.” He takes another sip. “They missed you so much while I hated your guts. I couldn’t think of you without seeing red and they couldn’t think of you without crying.” He swirled the drink in the can, looking down to his shuffling feet. “What did you guys do to survive?” 

✶ “I enrolled them into a high school. I didn’t want them to be stupid like me, ya know? And while they were in highschool, I started my business which earned us money to get by.” Stan told him. “Would you even call what you did a business?” Ford said with his eyebrow raised. “Hey!” Stan rolled his eyes, placing the can of soda down on the floor. “Once we got banned from a few states, [Name] put their foot down and encouraged me to get a job. And guess what, I landed a pretty good job! My history of stealing peoples money was long gone, until now,” Stan quietly said the last part. “And we were living pretty comfortably. I got us a nice house, a good car and [Name] graduated highschool and they got a job as manager of some sort, can’t really remember.” Stan scratched his chin idly. “They were on their way to move out and take their business elsewhere when you decided to show your face.” Stan cleared his throat, looking at Ford. “They talked about you a lot.” He softly added. “I saw how they lit up when they saw me for the first time. They looked so much older.” Ford said. “I mean, yeah, that’s what happens when you miss, like, 10 years of their life.” Ford ignored Stan’s comments and mulled over his thoughts. After a moment, he spoke up. “Thank you for talking about them, Stan.” Stan shot him a smile. “Of course, talking about them wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be.” Since then, Stan would share stories of you whenever Ford asked, ranging from embarrassing ones, to one’s where it was a little harder for Stan to tell. But in the end, it brought them closer together and kept the memory of you alive. 

✶ Much to Ford’s dismay, the whole shack was rearranged to be a tourist trap. By day, they were busy ripping people of their money and by night, they buried themselves in their work, fixing what they could while simultaneously searching for the second book. And before they knew it, they were in their late 50’s. Adjusting his fez, he smiles at himself through the mirror. “Stan!” Ford bursts through his room, starling Stan. “Geez, Ford! A little warning next time?” Ford stammers over to him. “No time for that!” He huffs out. “The book! I-I can’t find it!” Stan’s face falls. “What?! What happened to it?” Ford opened his mouth to answer when Soos yelled out; “Mr. Pines!” Stan curses to himself, that must be the kids. “Do you have any idea where it could be?” Stan asks. Out of all the days something could’ve gone wrong, why today? “I think maybe the gnomes took it?” Stan was ready to scream again when Soos called for them again. “I want you to go and look for the book.” Stan insisted, pointing a finger at him. “I’m not coming with you to get Dipper and Mabel?” Ford gasped out, his hand slapping on his chest. “No! Because you lost the book!” Stan pointed an accusatory finger at him. “I lost the book? It was probably a gnome who took it!” Ford defended. “How are you so sure that a gnome even took it?” Ford scratched the back of his neck nervously. “They may or may not have knocked me out just a few moments ago.” Stan was so ready to deck him in the face when Soos came into the room. “Mr. Pines!” He pointed outside. “The kids are here!” “We know that, Soos.” The twins spat out. “But there’s this wolf mailman dude, and I really don’t trust him and he’s probably like eating the kids right now at the bus stop!” Soos rambled out. While Stan carried an unimpressed face, Ford’s face twisted to one of horror. “We need to pick them up now!” Unfortunately for Stan, both Soos and Ford have a rising suspicion that the mailman is a wolf in a human disguise. But the man was just hairy! Ford pulled Stan along and got inside his car. Starting up the car, Stan let out an exhausted sigh. “How did puny little gnomes knock you out?” He asked, backing out of his parking spot and onto the road. “I was busy reading when they knocked me out cold! I don’t think they intended to steal the journal, when I was waking back up they realized and grabbed the nearest object possible and ran out of there.” Stan sighed, tapping his finger on the wheel. “I really can’t believe you sometimes.” He mutters. “It wasn’t my fault, Stanley!” 

✶ Coming to a complete stop, Ford rolled down the windows, a large smile on his face when his eyes landed on his favorite great nieces. “Grunkle Ford!” They cheer, equally large smiles on their faces. “Hey, hey!” Stan watched as they stumbled into the car with their bulky backpacks skidding against the roof. “Where’s my love?” Stan exclaimed. “Right here, Grunkle Stan.” Mable giggled, wrapping her arms around Stan’s neck and nuzzling her face into his shoulder. “That’s more like it,” Stan grinned, gingerly patting her back. “Now where’s the sweaty one? I’m missing one!” Dipper sighed, a playful roll to his eyes. “I’m right here,” Mable pulled away from Stan and swiftly latched herself to Ford. “C’mon, give your old grunkle some sugar.” Dipper cringed. “Don’t ever say that again, Grunke Stan.” He said, hugging Stan. “I say what I want, kid! We live in a free country for a reason.” The drive home was full of conversation, the twins telling their grunkle’s stories from school and their home life. Stan and Ford made the conscious effort to comment and react to everything they said, if not Mable would make sure they did by repeating what they said over and over again. When the Mystery Shack came into view, they both shoved their face against the window, marveling at the shack. “Is this what Grunkle Stan is always talking about when we call him?” Mable’s hot breath fogged up the window. “Yup. And now you guys get to see it.” Ford gestured to the shack, smiling proudly. He had soon come to love the shack he and Stan worked on, he will never admit that out loud though. Parking in his usual spot, he turns to the kids. “Get yourself settled in, alright?” They wasted no time jumping out of the car and scampering off into the shack. “And don’t touch anything!” A jar crashing onto the floor was heard in the distance. “They don’t listen, do they?” Stan shook his head. “Alright, poindexter, what are we going to do about the book?” He started, looking at Ford who pulled at his turtle neck anxiously. “We have to wait till tonight to look for it.” Tonight came and they were too wrapped up with the twins that they couldn’t go out and search for the third book. Their schedules became so busy that a week had passed and they still were waiting to find an empty slot in their schedules to find the book but it never came.

✶ “Grunkles! Grunkles!” Mable came running at them at full speed. “Woah there, kiddo!” Ford swooped Mable up from the floor. “You almost bumped into me.” He laughed, putting her back down on the ground. “That was the plan.” She giggled. “But I have something to ask!” She shoved her hand inside the pocket of her skirt. She pulled out a photo, a very specific photo that Stan had kept in his room. She pointed at the person in the middle. “Who is this?” She asks. “Mable!” Dipper rushed to the living room. Bending over, he hoisted himself up by propping his arms on his knees. He wheezed out, his eyes locking onto the tense scene in front of him. “Did she already ask about the photo?” Silence was his response. Breaking out of his trance, Stan swiped the photo out of Mable’s hands. “Where did you find this?” Stan’s eyes flickered between the photo and Mable. “In your room.” A flash of emotions went through Stan’s face. Why was Mable in his room? Why did she pick this photo out of all the things in his room? He spiraled. He wasn’t expecting to speak of you to someone who had no idea of your existence. Stan’s heart crumpled into a pathetic ball. The twins had never met you. Ford took notice of Stan’s unnaturally quiet nature.  “Kids, why don’t you go to your rooms?” Ford said, kneeling down to their height. “But why?” Mable whined, pouting. “Because we need to decide if we are ready to tell you, okay?” Ford gave a knowing look to Dipper who understood that this wasn’t an easy topic. Dipper told something to Mable and with a worried look, she dejectedly followed him up to their room. “Stan?” He looks over to Stan who was shakily pulling out a packet of cigarettes. “I thought you quit, Stanley?” Ford watched sadly as he walked inside the kitchen and searched for a lighter, when he did he pocketed it and walked back out. “It’s either I drink or I smoke.” Stan said, heading towards the porch. Ford followed after him, shutting the door behind him. “You want one?” Stan offered the pack and he debated for a moment before denying his request. Stan brought the cigar to his lips. He cupped his hand around the cigar as he lit it up with his lighter. Taking a deep drag of the smoke, he allowed himself to relax, welcoming the familiar feeling of the smoke filling his lungs. “We don’t have to tell them if you don’t want to.” Ford spoke, watching the puff of gray smog lighty cover his vision momentarily. “I don’t think we have a choice here.” Stan takes another long drag from the cigarette. “We can tell them we’re not ready yet.” Ford reasons. “I think it’s time they should know about [Name].” Stan stares at the late afternoon sky. “It was just all so sudden and I didn’t know how to react. It all went downhill from there.” Stan twiddled his cigarette between his fingers. “You don’t have to explain yourself, Stanley. I know how you feel.” A comfortable silence blanketed the both of them warmly. “Do you ever wonder what [Name] would think about the twins?” Ford breaks the silence, glancing at Stan from the corner of his eye. Stan wistfully smiled, stubbing out his cigarette on the floor. “[Name] would have loved the twins.” 

✶ Stan looked between the twins. “So, whaddya wanna know?” He asks. “Who are they!” Mable shouted. “They are our younger sibling.” Ford said. Mable’s face exploded into shock. “We have a secret Great Aunt/Grunkle?” Mable couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Where are they?” Dipper questioned. “They’re somewhere,” Stan said with a strained voice. “Where is somewhere?” Mable cocked her head to the side. “They’re out exploring the world.” Ford horribly lied. Mable frowned. “You can tell us if they’re dead, Grunkles. You don’t have to hide it from us.” Stan took a harsh deep breath in. “They aren’t dead, pumpkin. We just have no idea where they’re at.” Mable nodded her head in understanding. “Did you guys fall out?” Dipper asked with a tiny frown. “Yeah. A terrible fight broke out and they left.” Ford gazed at the photo of the three of them when they were young, clueless of the world and just happy to be surrounded by one another. “I’m so sorry.” Mable’s excitement was no longer there and was replaced by sadness for her poor Grunkle’s. “It’s okay, dear. No need to apologize.” Ford assured Mable with a smile. “[Name] is a wonderful person,” This was the first time Stan had talked about you in a present tense and he couldn’t tell if he liked that or not. “I hope one day you get to meet them.”

✶ Unbeknownst to the two older twins, Dipper had found journal three when Stan instructed him to go out and put out signs in the woods. But they didn’t find out that Dipper had it until he had shown the book to Ford and Stan after the events that had followed them the past few days. “Gideon nearly destroyed the whole town trying to find it!” Dipper said. Stan pretended to feign interest as he skimmed through the pages. “I don’t know what it means, or who wrote it, but after all we’ve been through,” He looks at Mable and smiles, directing attention to his Grunkle’s who were trying their hardest to hide their actual feelings. “Maybe you guys should finally know about it too.” He grinned. “I’m glad you showed us this, Dipper.” Stan shut the book closed. “Uhm, Grunkle Stan. Why does Grunkle Ford look like he’s about to crap himself?” Mable looked concerned for her Grunkle. Everyone turned their attention to Ford who weakly smiled at them. “Excuse him. He’s still shaken–” Ford yanked Stan by the sleeve and pulled him out of the twins room. “We need to go to the lab now!” Ford whispered. “I know that, Stanford! But at least let us pretend we don’t give a ratsass for this book!” He whispered back. “We’ll be back!” Ford awkwardly excused him and Stan. The twins heard their Grunkle speedily walk down the stairs. “Do you think I’m ever going to get that book back?” Mable shrugged. 

✶ Placing the books right next to each other, Ford flipped to the pages containing the blueprints. He connected the books together, showing the full plan of the portal. Stan read the instructions and swung over to the controls, he flipped the exact switches that were told to be switched. The lights around the portal flickered on. “Oh my god!” Ford laughed out in surprise. “Is this actually going to work?” Stan and Ford rush over to the portal. Their hearts thrumming against their chest. Together, they pulled the lever. With a click, it moved to the other side and the portal hummed. Zaps of electricity emitted from the portal as it powered back on. A rush of wind blew by Stan and Ford as the portal swirled to life. Ford shook his head in disbelief. “Can’t believe we did it, huh?” Stan says with a smile. “I thought we were never going to get this portal turned on.” Stan claps his back. “Well, believe it!” 

✶ Ford was so sure they weren’t going to get caught. He was so absolutely sure. The plan he made to steal the nuclear waste was perfect, there was no room for error. But it seemed like the universe had other plans. He never imagined himself getting pinned to a cop car with cuffs around his wrists. This was more of a Stanley thing, and yet here he is, getting arrested. “This is all just a big misunderstanding!” Ford cried out, his cheek squished against the hood of the cop car. “Guys, can’t I give you some money?” Stan approached them with his hands in his pockets. They all watched him nervously, guns aimed and men ready to tackle him down. “Grunkle Stan, maybe you shouldn’t!” Mable grabs Stan’s hand and pulls him back. “You guys got the wrong guy, my brother is innocent!” Stan argues. “Oh, we’ve been watching your family all summer and we have seen some pretty disturbing things. Whoever you think your brother is, he is not what he seems.” They shove Ford into a car. “Guys!” Ford calls, the door slamming shut on him. Stan watches as they drive off with Ford, his head spinning. “As for you guys, we were removing you off the property.” The guy with a mustache said, directing them to another cop car that was beside them. “No, you can’t!” Stan felt helpless. He just wants you back, why is this so difficult? The chaos spiraled into madness and suddenly, Stan was in the lab, begging the kids to not turn off the portal. “This’ll end the world, Grunkle Stan. Why can’t you see that?” Dipper had his hands hovering dangerously close to the button. “Just listen to me, kid. It’ll make sense later, just don’t press the button.” He walked towards them but was soon taken off his feet. “Brace yourselves!” They all rise up, twirling and thrashing around the room. “T-Minus, thirty five seconds.” The robotic voice said. Dipper had grabbed onto a beam and told Mable to reach for the button. Using the cable wrapped on her foot, she inched herself close to the button. “Mable, wait, wait!” Stan pushed him off the wall and tried reaching towards her. Soos dove straight for Stan and wrapped himself around him, apologizing to him. “Soos, what’re you doing?!” Dipper followed what Soos did and yelled at Mable to turn it off. 

✶ “Stop!” Everyone looked around and they all gasped when their eyes landed on Ford. “Mabel, don’t listen to Dipper. Listen to me,” Ford pushed himself toward the nearest beam. He coiled his arm around it, securing himself. “Do you trust me and Stan, Mable?” Ford firmly asked, his eyes locked with Mabel. “I do!” She desperately said. “Then trust us when we tell you to not push the button.” Mabel looked to Dipper who was widely shaking his head. “Okay,” She raises her hands above her head. “I trust you guys.” She let herself float up, away from the button. “Mable, no–!” A white flash envelops them whole. 

✶ They all roughly made contact with the floor. With a groan, Stan rubbed his head, his head lifting up towards the portal. The portal flickered with wandering electricity. Ford held his breath, eyes fixed on the portal as he waited. A black figure barreled out of the portal, their head whipping towards it. “Close the portal!” You yelled, your hand wrapping around a gun that was hoisted in their waist. You turned their attention back to Stan and Ford. “Close the portal!” You repeated louder this time. In the distance, they all heard a loud distorted guttural grumble. Ford got up from his feet and rushed over to the control panel, flicking all the switches down. “Switch the lever off!” Switching the gun to your other hand, you aimed it at the portal and with your free hand, you pulled the lever. Before whatever monster was chasing you could catch up, the portal sputtered close. You held your chest, catching your breath. The rush of adrenaline you felt passed and you were immediately struck with pain. “Thank you.” You whisper, clutching your side. You think you can manage and to prove it, you take one wobbly step forward. You tried to take another but you collapsed to your knees,  blood splattering on the floor below you. “[Name]!” Stan yelled, he darted towards you. “Stanley?” You croaked out. You blinked in surprise. “Is that really you?” Your question falls on deaf ears as Stan yells for medical supplies. Ford comes rushing to your side, inspecting the upper half of your body. “Stanford’s here too?” You felt your body teeter from side to side. “Is Mom and Dad gonna pop up?” You joke, your body crashing onto Ford. “[Name], can….hear…?”  Stan’s voice fades in and out. “What did you say?” Your eyes squint at Stan. “Here, Grunkle���” You could hear a high pitched voice and you go to look for it but your vision has gone hazy. “They’re slipping…out of…” You really wished you understood what they were saying. And without even realizing, your eyes closed on you. 

✶ You feel a warmth tickle your face causing you to stir awake. “Oh my gosh, it worked!” A voice spoke. “Mable!” A prepubescent voice filled your ears. “What is with all this talking?” You sleepily grumbled out, peeling your eyes open to see two tween kids staring right at you with big wondrous eyes. “Hi, I’m Mable! I’m your great niece.” She introduced herself. “Great niece?” You groggily got up. “Where am I?” You ask, blinking as your vision comes back to you. “You’re in the Mystery Shack!” She tells you with a chipper attitude. “Mystery Shack?” You look down to see that your original outfit you wore was now discarded somewhere and instead wore a large baggy white tee and heart pajama pants. “What am I wearing?” You pinched at your clothes. “Kids!” A gruff voice was heard behind the doors. “Oh shoot!” Mable looked around the room. “Where do we hide?” Dipper whispered, his eyes darting under the bed. “Go under the bed!” Dipper said, diving straight under. “Please don’t tell Grunkle Stan that we’re here!” She pleaded. “Uhm, yeah?” She beamed and hid right under the bed. In an instant, the door was pushed open and your eyes locked on your brothers. Your brain processed it for a moment, wait… “Stanley, Stanford?!” A gasp leaves Ford. “Why are you awake! You’re supposed to be resting.” Ford scolded. You didn’t pay attention to Ford’s scolding, wrapped up in the moment of seeing your twin brothers living and breathing right in front of you. “Are you guys real?” You try to blink away the tears that were obstructing your view. “Of course we are silly.” Stan laughed, sitting down on the bed right next to you and wrapping you in a side hug. “Stan…” You cried. You had spent countless nights, shouldering the knowledge that you weren’t going to see your brothers ever again. That haunted you every single day from the moment you woke up to the minute you went to sleep. Here you are, proven wrong for once in your life. And it feels so good to be held by Stan again, feels so good to have a familiar feeling wash into your senses again. “How?” You ask, peeling yourself away from Stan’s shoulder, wiping the tears away. “We just kept trying and trying.” Ford told you, a somber smile on his lips. “Oh, Ford. Come here!” You grab his wrist and tug him into the bed. The action caused you to drag and flop all of them on the bed with you. Tearful laughter erupts in the room. “I apologize for the scare earlier,” You say, your hand pressing against your side. “Don’t apologize. It wasn’t your fault.” Stan said. “No, really.” You begin to unwrap the gauze around your waist, ignoring Ford and Stan’s protest. “I heal quickly.” You point to your already sealed up gash. The only thing left to prove that you were injured was the thin scar that spread across. Ford gawks in awe. “You need to tell me an in depth story detailing every single thing you have been doing for the past thirty years.” Ford said with so much seriousness you laughed. “Bu-but you passed out. Ford said it was from blood loss!” 

✶ “I only passed out because my body needs to shut down momentarily to heal up my wounds.” You tell him matter of factly. “Oh, great. Now we have another snobby nerd.” Stan joked. “Oh, stop it! You are too, considering you fixed the portal alongside with Mr. Branic over here.” You jabbed a thumb over to Ford who yelled out, “Hey!” in offense. “Hello family!” Mable popped out from under the bed. The three of you screamed loudly in fear, clutching each other. “Woah, didn’t mean to scare you guys!” She helped Dipper out from under the bed. “I just wanted to say that you guys are so adorable!” She squealed, pouncing onto the bed. “I can’t believe I have a Great Aunt/Grunkle who has traveled throughout dimensions. Isn’t that so cool?” She kicked her feet in excitement. “What kinds of monsters did you see out there?” Dipper asked, climbing onto the bed and settling himself between you, Ford and Stan. “A lot.” You respond with a smile. “I never caught your brother's name.” You say, booping Dipper’s nose. “His name is Dipper!” Mable pulls him close to her, cheek to cheek. “We’re twins.” She mentioned. “So it runs in the family, huh?” You elbow the two sets of other twins you had the misfortune to partially grow up with. “Guess so,” Stan smiled. “Let’s play a get to know each other game.” Mable offered. Everyone surprisingly agreed. “Okay, let’s start with Great Aunt/Grunkle [Name]. Tell us about yourself.” The rest of the afternoon was spent catching up with the family and when the game was over, the twins had left, leaving you with Stan and Ford. “Thank you guys for not giving up on me.” You say into the hug. “We’re family! How could we ever abandon you?” Ford replies. An awkward cough emitted from you and Stan looked off to the side. “Oh.” The last thirty years had been rough, for you and the twins, but it was nice knowing that it ended with the three of you once again reunited at last. 

IT'S DONNE, and again if you guys want more i'll write more but till then i think this concludes word/insured YIPPIE

Taglist: @boredwithlifeatthispoint, @lovexsage, @teddycricketdream, @theilluminatidragonqueen, @raventeen @cedarmoonzz if you wanna be added to my taglist, dm me or comment! <3

[just1cefor4ll]

Thanos/Choi Su-bong x fem!reader warning. reader has an ed, swearing, not proof read, mentions of a toxic music industry

A/n. if anything here triggers you and it isnt listed in the warnings, dm me and ill add it in. I do NOT by any means encourage this type of “life style” and if you’re struggling with this, please try and seek out help— you’re not alone!!

You never thought love would be this exhausting. When you met Choi Su-bong—better known as Thanos—it was effortless. The kind of connection that didn’t need explaining. You were just a woman who had a shitty day at work and he was just a guy with a passion for music, and you just so happened to be in the right place at the right time.

That night in Hongdae, after his set, you locked eyes across the bar. You knew who he was, but you didn’t treat him like everyone else did.

“You rap?” you asked, casually swirling your drink.

“I try,” he smirked, leaning against the counter.

You scoffed. “I saw your set. You don’t just try.”

And that was it. That was how it started. Late-night walks through Seoul, deep conversations about music and life, stolen moments in the quiet corners of the city. Love was simple back then.

And for a while, life was good.

The first time the paparazzi caught you together, you didn’t think much of it. His fame had just sky rocketed but maybe people would talk for a bit and they’d move on, right?

You were wrong

Within hours, your face was everywhere. "Who is she?" "She’s not even pretty." "She’s just using him for clout." "She’s ruining his career."

At first, you laughed it off. It was just noise. Strangers behind screens didn’t know you— didn’t know him. But the more you saw it, the harder it became to ignore. They picked apart your looks, your past, your worth. The more you scrolled, the more those words burrowed under your skin.

Still, you smiled through it. You told him it didn’t bother you.

And he believed you.

It started small. Skipping meals here and there, telling yourself you’d eat later. You weren’t even trying to lose weight at first—you just didn’t feel like eating. But then the guilt crept in. Every bite felt heavy, every meal like a reminder that you weren’t enough. You started purging before you even realized it had become a habit. The first time, it was an accident—you ate too much too fast and felt sick, so you ran to the bathroom. But after that, it became… easy. A solution. Eat what you want, then get rid of it. No guilt, no weight gain. A perfect balance.

And no one noticed.

Not even him.

He was always busy—touring, recording, filming. When he came home exhausted, you curled up next to him, pressing your body close so he wouldn’t notice how much smaller you’d gotten. If he asked if you’d eaten, you’d lie. “Yeah, I grabbed something earlier.” If he asked why you were so tired, you’d blame work.

You convinced yourself it wasn’t a problem. You weren’t like those girls in the hospital beds, hooked up to IVs. You could stop whenever you wanted.

But you didn’t stop.

And eventually, he started noticing.

“You’ve been getting sick a lot,” he said one night, brushing your hair back as you sat curled up on the couch. “Are you okay?”

You forced a smile. “It’s just stress.”

“You’re barely eating.”

“I eat.” A lie. A reflex.

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “Is this because of the shit people say online?” “No,” you said too quickly. Yes. Maybe. I don’t know. “I don’t care what they think, you know that, right?” He pulled you into his arms, his warmth wrapping around you like a shield. “None of that matters.”

You wanted to believe him. You really did.

You didn’t remember passing out. It was the next day and Su-bong had left earlier that morning for a meet and greet which you decided to sit out, not feeling like facing his fans at the moment. One second you were going to the bathroom and the next you were hunched over the toilet, spilling your guts out before everything went black.

When you woke up, you were in a hospital bed. The beeping of machines filled the silence, the sterile smell burning your nose. Your throat felt raw, your body weak.

And then you saw him. Sitting in the chair beside you, elbows on his knees, face buried in his hands.

He looked up when he realized you were awake, and you’d never seen that expression on him before—this mixture of fear, anger, heartbreak.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” His voice was hoarse, like he’d been yelling or crying. Or both.

You wanted to speak, to tell him you were fine, but nothing came out.

“I—” he ran a hand through his hair, exhaling shakily. “I didn’t see it. I should have seen it.” His jaw clenched. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Tears burned your eyes. Because you wouldn’t have understood. Because I didn’t want to be your problem. Because I thought I had it under control.

But the truth was, you didn’t know why. And now, it didn’t matter.

Because it was already too late.

Waking up in that hospital bed was one thing. Facing what came next was another.

The first few days were a blur—doctors coming in and out, voices you barely registered, Su-bong staying by your side through all of it. He didn't leave. Not once. Not when they hooked you up to IVs, not when you were too weak to lift your head, not even when you refused to look at him out of shame.

But silence never lasted long with him.

"You scared the shit out of me," he admitted one night, his voice quiet but raw. He was sitting in the chair beside you, fingers laced together as he stared at the floor. "I thought I was gonna lose you."

You swallowed, throat still sore. "I'm sorry." "Don't—" He shook his head, running a hand down his face. "Don't apologize. Just.. tell me what I can do. Tell me how to help."

You didn't know how to answer that.

But help came anyway.

Recovery wasn’t linear. Some days, you convinced yourself you were getting better. You ate the meals they gave you, nodded along when the doctors talked about therapy, let Su-bong hold your hand and tell you things would be okay.

Other days were harder.

Some mornings, you stared at the tray of food in front of you, stomach twisting with guilt before you even took a bite. Some nights, the voices in your head whispered that you didn’t deserve to get better. That you weren’t sick enough. That this was still your control to take back.

But every time you struggled, he was there.

He held you when you broke down. He sat with you through therapy sessions, even when it hurt to talk about things. He learned. Read books. Asked questions. Stopped saying things like “just eat” and started saying “I’m here” instead.

And slowly—painfully—you started to believe him.

But the world outside didn't make it easy.

You weren’t on social media anymore, but you didn’t have to be to know what people were saying. The news was everywhere.

"Thanos’ girlfriend hospitalized for an eating disorder."

"Scandal or sympathy grab?"

"Fans blame toxic industry for shocking health crisis."

Some people supported you. Others weren’t so kind.

And when Su-bong sat down for his first interview since everything happened, it was only a matter of time before someone brought you up.

"So," the interviewer started, her smile more fake then the diamond ring she had on, "there’s been a lot of talk about your personal life lately."

Su-bong tensed. He knew where this was going.

The interviewer continued, undeterred. "Some fans think your relationship has been a distraction for your career. There’s been speculation that—"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

The entire room went silent.

The interviewer blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." His voice was sharp, his hands clenched into fists on the table. "You think this is some gossip headline? Some scandal to dissect? I almost lost her because of people like you. Because of people who picked her apart, made her feel like she wasn’t enough. And now, instead of talking about the real issue, you wanna turn this into some bullshit narrative about my career?"

The interviewer fumbled for a response, but he wasn’t done.

"I don’t give a fuck about the music industry if it means losing her. You get that?" His jaw tightened. "She is not a distraction. She is my life."

The interview ended early. The clip went viral within hours.

You saw the video later, sitting on the couch at home, wrapped in one of his hoodies. You expected to feel guilty. Maybe even embarrassed. But instead, for the first time in a long time, you felt safe.

He sat down next to you, watching carefully. “You okay?” You nodded, resting your head on his shoulder. “Thank you.” “For what?” “For fighting for me.” He exhaled, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I’ll always fight for you."

Healing wasn’t a straight path. Some days were good. Others weren’t. But you weren’t alone anymore.

And that was enough to keep going.

© just1cefor4all— I don’t consent to my writing being reposted to other platforms or fed into AI. Translating it is also strictly prohibited. 🚫

[mariposa-drowned]

Hear me out, Ellie x pregnant reader doing the trend where you lift up your s/o belly to relieve the weight and then having a lil heart to heart bc you just feel so useless due to said pregnancy

Ellie was currently scrolling tiktok as you sat on the couch together, your attention being taken up by whatever show you had thrown on TV, not even noticing the sound coming from Ellie's phone, you were so used to her needing multiple different forms of entertainment at the same time that it barley even phased you anymore.

You were eight months pregnant and ready for this baby to be out. You're tired all the time and can't stand for too long without discomfort, which made you feel useless. No matter how much Ellie assured you she was completely fine with taking over daily tasks, even having Joel over sometimes to entertain you while she worked on stuff, or the other way around. Tommy had even been over a few times with Maria as she tried to offer you tips and tricks on how to deal with the discomfort.

Ellie felt terrible that she couldn't do more for you. Besides massages and the occasional sex that you swore helped; Ellie was always looking for ways to help. Which is why when a video popped up of a man getting behind his wife to lift her pregnant belly for a few seconds, Ellie was immediately ushering you up, hoping that you would get the same relief that the girl in the video seemed to get.

"Ellie what the hell are you doing"

"just trust me babe this is gonna feel great"

"don't kill me please. Or the baby"

Ellie rolled her eyes, positioning herself behind you, her long arms coming to intertwine right below your bump.

"kay take a deep breath"

You huffed but did as told. Then a sudden rush of incredible relief filling you as Ellie lifted your bump up you groaned, your hand reaching behind you to entangle itself in Ellie's hair.

"hooolyyy fuck Ellie"

"yeah? That feel good mama?"

"ohmygod can we just stay here for a minute please"

"as long as you need babe"

You were practically on the verge of tears from the relief you were currently feeling, you hand gripping a bit harder where it was entangled in Ellie's hair. She noticed your teary eyes, quickly becoming concerned.

"hey what's wrong am I hurting you?" She worried as she slowly started to drop your belly.

"don't you dare drop your hands Ellie Williams"

You immediately gripped her hand with a force she didn't even know you possessed.

Ellie immediately reassumed her position "christ babe sorry, was just a bit worried when my wife starts crying"

"just feels really fuckin good els" you stated with watery eyes

"hey hey don't cry mama, it's alright I'll do this whenever you need until they're here babe. It's alright"

"m'sorry just feels s'nice, I just feel so useless because I'm so uncomfortable all the time n I can't do anything"

Ellies heart broke a little at your confession "don't be sorry at all, you hear me?" C'mon let's go sit for a minute, I promise I'll do this again later, jus' wanna talk to you"

You leaned your head back to try and meet her eyes, your vision still a bit blurred

"pinky swear?"

"cross my heart babe. C'mon I'm gonna start lowerin my hands now"

You tried to keep her there as long as you could, but inevitably Ellie's hands left their place under your stomach. You sighed as she started to lead you to the couch. She plopped down, spreading her legs and ushering you in-between them to which you promptly did, getting as comfortable as you could in-between her legs.

Ellie grabbed one of your hands, the other resting on your bulging stomach tracing small shapes.

"I need you to listen to me for a minute babe"

You tilted you head back to lean on your shoulder semi-looking at her while humming a small mhm

"I love you. So much. But you need to understand that you are actively making a living being in you right now. You are allowed to be sick and tired and uncomfortable, it's expected. But you need to understand that we are in this together. I will always be here, I want to be here for you, which means that if you can't do something, I pull my weight here. That's my job mama, I gotta take care of you and little bean" Ellie smiled through her last sentence, looking down to meet your smiling face aswell

"I love you els. Thank you, for everything"

"always and forever babe"

"always and forever" you smiled back at her, leaning up to give a peck on Ellie's lips.

[billthedrake]

LINEAGE (PART FOUR)

Braden always teased me for how much Junior took after me, but it wasn't when my son was pregnant with our second child that I fully realized the bond that was developing between me and Junior.

A lot of it was the stretch in which Brade was too tired for the usual games of catch or even his normal parenting stuff. Seven months and starting to really show, my son had to take breaks and lie down in the bedroom. I brought Bill Jr into the chores like it was a game. "Daddy does so much work around the house... why don't we help him out for a change, buddy?"

Junior's face beamed in happiness. He didn't like doing chores, but he liked time with his dads. "Sure thing Dad. Daddy's OK, isn't he?"

I ruffled his hair. "He's OK. Just tired."

"I get tired, too," Junior said in all earnestness. Damn, to have that innocence of a 5 year old.

We told Junior he'd be having a little brother, soon. That the newborn might get extra attention at first, but we loved him in a special way and that wouldn't change.

***

It was one Sunday, and as I watched golf on TV, I felt wistful, because it was normally Brade's day. But he was taking a nap. Selfishly, I missed the hot pregnancy sex Brade and I had before Bill Jr. was born, but now my son-husband usually wasn't in the mood. I'd stroked off in the shower so I'd taken care of my physical needs, but I missed the emotional connection of sex.

"Hey Dad." God, it was Junior. I thought he'd been playing a computer game, but now he seemed eager for my company. I'd learned to read the kid's moods pretty well by now, in a more intuitive way than I'd ever felt when raising Braden.

"Hey kiddo," I smiled, moving my feet off the couch and sitting up in a more proper way. "Wanna go out and play catch?" I asked. "I'm not as good as your Daddy, but you can make me run for the long ones."

Junior shook his head and laughed. "No, sir.... I was wondering if I could watch golf with you."

Talk about surprise. "You sure that's not boring for you?"

Junior sat on the couch, eager to show off his enthusiasm. "I enjoy it, Dad. You seem to get into it." I almost laughed to think of the contrast with Brade, who teased me for the years watching golf alone in the living room.

"Well, sure... have a seat, kiddo..." I patted the couch next to me.

He seemed happy to be joining, like he was privy to some adult thing he wasn't allowed to do. I honestly thought he'd start squirming or sighing in boredom after a while, but he watched the tournament with attention.

"Who are you rooting for, Dad?" he asked at one point.

The kid was pretty curious, I'll give him that. I tried to think of a way to explain that was honest and clear but didn't dumb it down. "It's not like other sports, at least not for me. I kind of root for the guy who's playing the best, the one who's having a great day on the course."

"Oh," Junior said, not getting it but trying to.

I patted his shoulder. "Golf's about finding your best game within you." I could imagine Brade's eyeballs rolling.

We watched for a while longer. It was getting late in the afternoon. I worried about Brade and would need to check on him soon, but he just needed his rest, I knew. And I was enjoying this bonding moment with Junior. As a dad you crave times like this.

Braden and I had a division of labor. He was the stay at home dad and did more of the playtime bonding and day-to-day stuff with our son. I was the disciplinarian. Braden and I decided it would be better to have clear authority so our kids wouldn't play one of us off the other.

My other responsibility was to have the harder father-son talks. It was too early for the birds and the bees talk with Junior, but I knew I had to have a series of discussions about his parents. And I wanted to take advantage of the closeness Junior and I were feeling now.

"Buddy..." I stared, muting the TV. "Can I talk to you about something?"

Junior looked at me. Trusting. Open. "Sure, Dad."

I sighed but tried to keep like I was bringing up anything difficult. "You know how we've talked about privacy before."

He nodded, like he proud he'd learned his lesson from school. "Oh yeah, I know if your and Daddy's door is shut, I gotta knock." That had been a previous talk.

"Um, yes, buddy, like that," I said. "But you're getting to be a big boy now and you probably know that your Daddy and I are not a conventional couple."

"Is it because I have two daddies? Because Bobby has two daddies too."

"Does he?" I asked in mock surprise. "I guess that is more common." I continued. "But your Daddy and I are different than a lot of those families. See... your daddy is my son. Just like you are."

"I know, Dad," Junior said. "He calls you Dad sometimes."

We'd never fully hidden it, but now that Junior was entering kindergarten he needed to be aware. Careful.

"A lot of people don't understand that, kiddo."

"Why not?" Junior asked. I was glad he didn't seem to respond to any sense of impropriety.

I shrugged. "It's just how it is. Your daddy and I have a very special bond, a special love. And we love you very much. That's all that matters."

Junior seemed OK with that answer. But he seemed to be thinking over this talk. "Is that why you say you're my grandad when you pick me up sometimes?"

I nodded. "I am your granddad, too, Junior. And your father. It's complicated."

He smiled. "I don't mind, Dad. It's kind of cool. Like I'm special."

"You are special," I smiled, ruffling his hair. "You just can't talk about it with anyone. Not your friends or your teachers or anyone who's not family, hear?" I was combining my loving-dad and disciplinarian.

"Yes, sir," Junior responded.

I gave an encouraging smile. "So, buddy... what do you say you help me whip up some dinner? I think Daddy needs his nap today."

****

The next day might as well have been a different month. The alarm went off early, real early, and I felt Braden's warm body snuggle against mine. He was completely naked, and just the feel of his pregnant build against my arm and hip and leg was enough to wake me up, fast.

"Um, what time is it?" I asked in a morning voice. It was pitch black out.

Braden was still not fully awake, even as he was initiating sex. "I thought maybe you could come home early today, Dad... it's been a while."

I grunted an assent and turned to kiss Brade. Sure we'd given each other a good night or good morning peck of a kiss, as husbands, but I missed kissing him deeper. I could tell he's missed his too. His free hand was all over my body, my chest, my abs, my briefs-covered cock as we made out.

Over the last year, we'd gotten into a good rhythm of married sex. I'd worked out a flex schedule, where I'd go into the office real early a few days a week so I could get home while Junior was still at preschool. This gave us time for longer sessions in addition to the quickies we could sneak in.

That rhythm had been disrupted by the tough pregnancy Brade was enduring this time around, but I was more than happy to pick things back up.

Particularly now that my hunky son-husband was turning away from me and turning on the bed lamp. I could see his strong ex-footballer, ex-Marine build. Brade's a few inches shorter than me, which makes his brawn stand out even more. Even with pregnancy, he kept up at the gym, and I could see the strong lats and broad back and that muscle ass. Best of all that eight-month preg gut made visible love handle-like swells along his waist.

I knew how to read my son's body language and the silent way he could communicate his needs in the bedroom. I slipped down my underwear and then reached over to fumble for the lube in the nightstand. It had been nearly two months.

"Think Junior's asleep?" I heard Brade ask.

I slicked up my boner. "Like a rock," I said. It was about 5 AM, and if Bill Jr. took after me in a lot of ways, he was gonna be like his Daddy when it came to not being a morning person.

"I want us to talk, Dad," Brade said. "If that's OK."

My dick was rock hard and I turned toward Braden's strong body and scooted up toward him. "You want an incest fuck, son?" I said. We often had to put the kibosh on verbal sex when our son was in the house. Even with a closed door, you never know.

"Mmm hmmm," came the reply. Brade pushed back against me, savoring the feel of my big father cock in his ass cleft. My son was in heat, pregnancy hormones kicking in.

My own hormones were doing their work, and I felt my heart beat fast. I placed my hand on his belly. Big and round, I loved the way Brade's pregnancy gut was hard and soft at the same time.

"How's my grandson doing in there?" I growled.

"He's gonna be a strong, healthy one, Dad."

"It's because he's an incest kid, Brade. Made by a father and son."

"I love my father's cock," Braden hissed, lust in his voice. "Love that you knocked me up, sir."

I pushed into his ring. Slowly, because it had been months.

"I can feel that breeder cock, Dad."

"Your father's cock."

"Yessir... took my cherry. The night before Basic." Brade's insides were opening up for me now. It was like riding a bike for him I suppose. Or maybe he was reliving that deflowering in his head.

"Sent you off with your own father's cum inside you."

"Hell yes.... I wish I hadn't been on the pill then."

My dick surged inside Braden. I kissed along his neck and rubbed his stomach. "You wanted to get pregged on your first fuck, Sport?"

"You could have done it, too. Potent dad cock working me open."

I was now pushing all the way inside. My son's insides were hot and tight and alive. I missed this but the best part was that Braden had clearly missed this, too. He bucked back against me.

"Unprotected dad cock," I hissed.

"You lectured me so much, Dad," Braden hissed. "But I wish you'd just taken me raw and put your kid in me. At eighteen"

"Damnit, Brade," I said in a tone that was only annoyed by how much that turned me on. "I never told you, Son," I said. "But I made you the night I lost my virginity."

That gave Braden a pause. "For real?" He couldn't tell if this was just sex talk.

I fucked faster, holding onto this big bulk. Fucking a very pregnant Brade was one of the hottest things, almost as hot as knocking him up on the first place. "For real, Son. I fucked your mother the first time out, and all of a sudden I was a teen dad."

"God, Dad," he hissed. I could tell he was trying not to get too loud. I love Braden, but my son can be a screamer in bed. "That's so fucking hot."

I don't tend to be loud in sex, but I was getting worked up myself. "I'm thinking of that moment now... when I made you...." I slowed my thrust to be deep and purposive. "When I made Junior...."

"Fuck!" Braden hissed. His hand left his cock to grip the top of my own hand that was on his big belly, coaxing me to rub it all over.

"When I made Evan," I growled, kissing Braden's neck. For me it was all coming together, the sexual power of fatherhood, of breeding.

I could sense Braden's back muscles tense. Now that I'd slowed my thrusts, going for power rather than speed, he was bucking back against my dong again. Hungry for it. "Just like you're gonna make our next son... and the one after that."

"Oh god..." I hissed. I'd tried to make this mating last, but I was getting closer to orgasm.

"After Evan..." my son muttered, trying to keep his bedroom voice down. "I don't wanna wait for the next..."

"Yeah?" We'd talk about this seriously, later, but my sex addled brain was entertaining the idea.

"Yessir... I want you to bring my home from the hospital and bend me over and rough fuck me right then..."

It was wild and a total Brade thing to say.

I was cumming inside my eldest boy, hard.

I felt my pregnant husband squirm on my spurting dick, and only after a few seconds did I realize Braden was orgasming hands free.

We came down and caught our breath and I held my hunky son's big body from behind.

"I love you, Dad," Braden finally said.

"God, Braden, I don't think I could love you any more."

He nodded in a way that said he loved hearing that. "Dad... I'm proud of how you've stepped up with Junior."

I rubbed his furry preg belly and just savored the warmth and heat of his back against my chest. I was still firm and buried inside him though slowly softening. "You do the work, buddy." It was easy to take for granted what Brade did as a stay at home dad, but I knew he was incredible and hard working at it.

"I mean, emotionally... it takes a real man to grow... it feels weird saying that."

I chuckled. "Weird.. why?"

"Cause you're my dad," my husband said. "Like, I can't imagine any other sons talking to their fathers like this."

"We're husbands, too, Brade. Partners, equals."

"Parents."

"Fuck yes," I hissed, kissing his neck softly.

Finally my dick plopped free and Braden turned around to kiss me. He was still hard and I could feel the tip of his prick against my leg.

"Can I let you in on a secret, Dad?"

"Of course." I figured Braden and I had few if any secrets between each other at this point.

"The equal idea... what you just said... I love that, sir..." he started. "But I also love that you're always gonna be older and wiser and the man I looked up to from my childhood."

"Brade," I said, emotional and getting hard at the same time.

"It's true dad," he said, snuggling up to me, and reaching down to feel my prick. "Just the idea that you've knocked me up twice and are going to do it again..." He didn't finish his thought. We were too busy making out once more.

"We doing round two, Sport?" I asked, running my hands along his side.

Braden shook his head. "Save it for later, OK?"

I forced myself to pull myself from his embrace and slip out of the bed. "In that case, I better get ready." I stood by the bed and got one more good look at Braden's amazing physicality as his eyes stared at my rigid dad cock sticking straight out.

***

Maybe it was getting laid, maybe it was just seeing Braden get his energy back, but I was in a great mood all day. I did miss the time driving Junior to kindergarten, which I'd been doing lately, but I'd make sure to catch up with my son and play with him in the evening, after dinner.

I had a busy work day but threw my head into it and focused and banged out a lot efficiently. By 1:30 I was texting Brade to let him know I was leaving the office.

"Hot damn... we get a nice long session then," came the reply.

When I got home, I had a good idea where I'd find my son, back in the master bedroom, half naked or fully nude.

But as I pushed open the door I was thrilled with the obscenely hot sight. My ex-Marine son was naked on the bed, an extra sheet on top of the mattess. He was watching some intergenerational porn but not really jacking off, more just letting his hard dick ride up against his pregnancy swell. Best part was his normally hairy torso was shaved smooth and looked shiny.

"Jesus, son," I'd hiss as I unknotted my tie and kicked off my dress shoes. "Looks like Evan is ready to pop out any minute." I was exaggerating, since the due date was still a few weeks away. But Brade and I knew how to go into the fantasy and push each other's buttons.

My son just smiled and lay back into the pillows, spreading his legs. "You gonna induce labor with that big dad dick of yours?"

I felt my throat go tight. "I never know how far is too far to go with you, son."

Braden smiled. "Physically or verbally?"

"Verbally," I said, stripping off my suit jacket and undoing my belt. I was rock hard, just like I hadn't gotten off that morning. I'm sure Brade could see my erection riding up the crotch of my trousers. "I know not to go rough when you're this far along, Sport."

"I know, sir," my son said softly. "I just like working you up."

I took a look at the TV screen. I had wider porn tastes than my son and in any case preferred to watch only when I had to stroke a quick load out without Braden. But my son was very focused on daddy-son pairings and roleplay stuff, and he liked when we watched it together. "One of your favorites," I said. I'd seen this video several times with Brade.

"Yes, sir," my son said. "I just wished there was mpreg porn... or real dad-son teams."

A thought came to me. "You ever feel like taking the Connors up on their offer?" Jeff Connors and his father Frank had become part of the incest social circle Braden and I had, along with the Fiedlers. It had taken a few months for Frank to get comfortable with it, but now he was the one dropping hints and finally an outright suggestion that it would be hot to have a dad-son foursome. For all their flirtiness, Todd and Adam Fiedler hadn't gone that far.

Braden's eyes lit up with excitement. "Yeah? I didn't think you'd go for that, Dad."

I unbuttoned my shirt. Normally, I'd be pouncing on Brade's naked, knocked up body, but I knew we had a solid hour and a half for sex that day, before I had to go pick up Junior.

"And you would?" I asked. I wasn't sure if this was going too far. Brade and I had talked about the possibility of playing with others but only in an idle way.

"Oh yeah"," he said. "I'd love for them to watch you fuck me."

"I think the polite term is 'making love,' Sport," I winked.

"Trust me, Dad, when it comes to incest... you make love and then there gets a certain point where you just fuck."

I now pulled down my trousers and briefs, showing Brade my paternal hardon. This ritual would never, ever get old. "Is that right, Son?"

Brade nodded, his brown eyes hungry. "You can be a total beast, Dad. I fuckin' love it."

I gently folded my trousers and peeled off my button down shirt. "I think Frank wants to make a play for you," I cautioned him.

Braden grinned. "Dad... you've been wanting to nail Jeff Connors since you met him."

I blushed. "Come on, Brade..."

He laughed. "I know your an incest man, Dad. But you're also a man. Men look. And fantasize. It's OK."

A had a bit of jealous streak but also a real curiosity about spicing up our sex life with a threesome or foursome. And as a dad-son couple it would have to be someone we trusted. I stepped up to the bed and ran my hand along Braden's leg, feeling the hairs and knotted calf muscle, then tracing my fingers higher.

I watched his cock jerk and his dimples form on his face. "Nice, sir.." He put his hands under his big eight month belly to frame it for my gaze. "We don't gotta, Dad... but I figure it would amplify the incest, being with another dad and son." My son nodded toward the night stand where a new bottle stood. "I got some massage oil. Why don't you put some more on me?"

I felt that crazy horniness as I did just that, smearing the oil all over that freshly shaved muscle, feeling up the full muscle tits and those strong arms. I oiled his legs, massaging the quads before I finally go to the big prize, that big round stomach. I added extra oil and admired the vision and feel of that large belly.

"Oh fuck, he's kicking," I growled. I could feel it.

"Our son, Dad," Braden said, excited. "Our second son."

I leaned forward and deep kissed Brade, feeling his own sexual excitement and emotion coming back to me. We made out for a good ten minutes, each of out touching each other as we got into it.

"Evan Braden Drake," I finally muttered into my son's lips.

"I love giving you that gift, Dad. A second grandson."

"Baby boy," I hissed. I now felt his fingers curl around my prick, which was dripping.

"Make love to me, Dad. Nice and slow... like that the night you took my cherry."

"Damn, buddy."

I did my best, but it was hard given Braden's size. But as he scooted to the bed's edge and I placed his calves on my shoulders, I entered him slowly, very slowly, lubed up from all that massage oil. It was a new thing. Not being the Beast, not going hard into him. Just seeing how gentle I could be with my son. That slow pump lasted ten minutes until like a tantric cum, Braden and I came at the same second.

I had to pull out to kiss him again. Lazily I rubbed his belly more, smearing sperm into the oil as we kissed.

"You better go pick up Junior," my son finally said. "I'll clean up." It was funny to see my son be the responsibly minded and practical one. Life throws surprised your way for sure.

"Yeah," I hissed before claiming one last kiss. I hopped in the shower and got dressed again.

Braden moved slower at 8 months, but he'd gotten up and was stripping the sheet. Still nude, he was a beautiful sight.

"OK if I reach out to Jeff?" I asked. I needed to check if the idea was as appealing post-nut.

Braden smiled. "Oh yeah. We can get a baby sitter for Junior. If you're cool with the idea, Dad."

"I think we should," I said. "I want to show us off... in the right circumstances." I looked at my watch. "Gotta go... " I stepped up for a last peck of a kiss.

I made good time getting to Junior's school and had a few minutes to wait. I texted Brade. "Love you so much, Sport." Then I pulled up Jeff Connors contact. He was the one who usually contacted me or Todd Fiedler, not his Dad. Plus, I had my own flirty dad-substitute vibe with him. "Hey man, Braden and I are open to your Dad's idea... if you guys are still game."

Junior was all smiles when he came out. He'd gotten a gold star on a drawing he'd done that day. I told him it was going on the fridge. "Feel like stopping for ice cream, kiddo?" I asked.

"Won't it spoil my dinner, Dad?" the kid asked.

"Probably," I admitted. "Don't tell your Daddy," I winked. I was in the mood to spoil my younger son a little.

***

It wasn't until Junior and I got home that I noticed a reply text from Jeff Connors. "Oh yeah! We'd love that."

"This weekend?" I asked. "Saturday? We can get a babysitter and come to your place."

A few seconds later. "Dad says ok. God, I can't fuckin' wait."

I smiled and slid my phone back in my pocket. I'd tell Braden later. For now, he was back in parent mode, asking Junior about his day. Time for me to enter parent mode, too.

[insomniac4000]

Light in the Dark-ChrisMD

Chris's usually confident big achiever girlfriend starts to spiral down. Chris is there.

Depression symptoms throughout- this is a little self indulgent as my head space is not good right now.

Y/N had built her life on movement. Planes, trains, boats—if it could take her somewhere new, she’d been on it. She was the girl who trekked through the Amazon on her gap year, bungee-jumped off bridges in New Zealand, and hiked through Patagonia, camera in hand, breathless with laughter. Even her work was related to travel, she started off as cabin crew before spending a year in China teaching English as a second language. Soon the age of twenty five came and while she was still young there was a part of her that yearned to have a base so she was off to London but still, as a sales representative for a big international company she still got to do what she loved. Those who knew her always called her strong, life was filled with exciting moments and adventure, she loved a challenge, and she was a joy. Everyone however had their secrets.

But now, she sat on her couch, staring at the blank screen in front of her.

Her laptop screen dimmed from inactivity, and she made no move to wake it. The words wouldn’t come. The ideas that used to flow so effortlessly had dried up, leaving her empty. The presentation usually came quickly, formatting was a breeze, never boring she always lived her breathed the topics she spoke about now there was only pure emptiness. She should have responded to her emails, planned her next meeting, wrote something, anything. Instead, her phone sat face-down on the table, vibrating occasionally with messages she couldn’t bring herself to read no one was meant to see her like this.

She closed her eyes and exhaled. The air felt heavy, like breathing in water.

Y/N stood on the rooftop of a hotel in Tokyo, wind whipping her auburn curls around her face. She grinned into the camera, holding it at arm’s length.

“So they want to open the account immediately, I’ve already drafted the initial paperwork but I will send it over to you to check?” Y/N said to her boss, it was only a month ago, this account was huge and she was so excited to get it.

“What would I do without you?”

Well right now he was going to have to try as, she couldn’t even imagine even opening her mouth to speak.

Y/N pushed back the meeting schedule. Just a week, she told herself. She needed more time to get the details right.

Then another week. Then another.

Her friends noticed first, well actually it was Chris’s friends, which seemed to cement her idea that her friends didn’t care. They did, they just assumed she was away again.

“You okay,?” George asked over voice chat. “Haven’t seen you in a bit.”

“Yeah, yeah, just busy,” she replied, forcing her voice to sound light.

Will chimed in. “You ghosting us, or what?”

She laughed. “Of course not. Just catching up on work.”

Lies. The presentation still sat untouched. The pressure built in her chest like a weight pressing down, harder and harder, but she couldn’t move. Couldn’t write. Couldn’t sell. Couldn’t be the person they all expected.

She was failing.

She stopped replying to messages. Stopped picking up FaceTime calls.

Even Chris, who she talked to nearly every day, got nothing but short replies.

Chris: Are you free for lunch? Y/N: Busy. Chris: Everything okay? Y/N: Fine.

She wasn’t fine. But what was she supposed to say? That she felt like a fraud? That every achievement, every milestone, every person she signed up to the company, none of it felt real anymore?

That she wasn’t sure if she even deserved any of it?

So she stopped talking.

Chris showed up at her door.

She didn’t answer at first. Just stared at the screen as his name flashed under the doorbell camera. He knocked again, then texted: I know you’re in there.

She should have ignored it. Should have let him walk away.

Instead, she opened the door.

Chris frowned the moment he saw her. “Y/N.”

She knew what he was seeing. The unwashed hoodie she’d been living in. The dark circles under her eyes. The exhaustion etched into her face.

“Are you sick?” he asked.

“No.”

“Have you eaten today?”

She hesitated. His expression softened. “Can I come in?”

She didn’t answer, just stepped aside.

Chris entered without another word, moving to the kitchen like he belonged there. He opened the fridge, frowned at its near-empty shelves, then started making tea.

Y/N sat at the table, staring at the grain of the wood.

Finally, Chris placed a mug in front of her and sat across from her. He didn’t ask anything. Didn’t push. Just sat there.

She should have said something. Maybe thanked him. Maybe lied and said she was okay.

Instead, she wrapped her hands around the mug and whispered, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Chris didn’t react right away. He let the words settle, like he knew how hard they were to say.

Then he spoke, quiet and steady. “Nothing’s wrong with you, my darling.”

She huffed a humourless laugh. “Doesn’t feel that way.”

Chris leaned forward, elbows on the table. “You know I am here for you.”

Y/N didn’t get better overnight.

She still struggled to open her laptop. Still flinched when a message came through. Some days, getting out of bed felt impossible.

But Chris stayed.

He didn’t push her to work. Didn’t tell her to "snap out of it" or "just be positive." Instead, he showed up.

He brought her food when she forgot to eat. Watched movies with her in comfortable silence. Walked with her when the walls of her flat felt too small.

When she broke down one night, confessing that she felt like she was failing everyone, her audience, her clients, most of all him he just held her, murmuring, “You’re not failing anyone. You’re allowed to feel this way.”

She still didn’t believe it. Not entirely. But for the first time in weeks, she didn’t feel completely alone.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough for now. But that small glimmer of hope faded, she dropped and she couldn’t feel herself slipping. All Chris knew was that he had the next ready to catch her.

Y/N didn’t remember the exact moment when the sadness became unbearable.

It wasn’t one big event. It was everything the exhaustion, the pressure, the relentless voice in her head telling her she was a failure. It built and built until one night, it broke her.

She was sitting on the floor of her bedroom, knees drawn to her chest, her hands gripping her own arms so tightly they ached. The room was dark except for the glow of her phone screen, which was filled with missed messages. Her breathing was uneven, her chest tight.

Then, without warning, she started to cry.

Not quiet tears. Not the kind of crying that could be wiped away and ignored. This was the kind that stole her breath, made her body shake, made her feel like she was drowning.

Chris found her like that.

She barely registered the sound of her front door opening. He had a key now; she wasn’t even sure when she’d given it to him, but he used it without hesitation.

She flinched when he crouched in front of her, his voice low and gentle. “Y/N.”

She shook her head, gripping her arms tighter. “I can’t—Chris, I can’t—”

Her throat burned, her words coming out in sobs. Chris didn’t say anything else. He just sat down beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her against him.

She let herself fall into him, burying her face against his chest. His hoodie smelled like rain and something warm, something safe.

“I’m here,” he murmured.

She didn’t know how long they sat there. Time didn’t make sense anymore. Nothing made sense anymore.

The next wave wasn’t sadness, it was anger.

Y/N had always prided herself on her independence. She was the one who figured things out, who got things done. Now, she could barely respond to an email, let alone film a video.

One morning, Chris came over to find her sitting on the couch, staring at her laptop with an untouched cup of tea beside her.

“Any luck?” he asked, careful.

Y/N’s jaw tightened. “No.”

Chris hesitated. “Want to take a break? Go for a walk?”

Something inside her snapped.

“A walk isn’t going to fix this, Chris!” she snapped, slamming the laptop shut. “Nothing is going to fix this!”

Chris didn’t flinch. He didn’t leave. He just watched her, his expression unreadable.

“I know,” he said quietly. “And I’m not trying to fix it.”

His calmness made her even angrier.

“Then what are you doing here?” she demanded. “You’re wasting your time! I’m useless right now. I can’t do anything. I don’t even know why I—”

Her voice cracked. The rage crumbled beneath the weight of exhaustion, of frustration, of shame.

Chris exhaled and sat on the couch beside her, close but not touching.

“You’re not useless,” he said. “You’re struggling. That’s not the same thing.”

She looked away. “It feels the same.”

Chris didn’t argue. He just reached for her hand, threading his fingers through hers.

She wanted to pull away. But she didn’t.

Some days, Y/N felt nothing.

No sadness, no anger, just an empty, hollow void. She’d wake up, stare at the ceiling for an hour, then drag herself to the couch and stay there.

Chris noticed.

One evening, he sat beside her, stretching out his legs. “Wanna watch something?”

She shrugged.

He put on a random episode of The Inbetweeners. It played. She barely watched.

But he stayed.

Another day, he brought her favourite food. She picked at it but barely ate.

He didn’t push.

She didn’t understand how he had the patience. Anyone else would have given up by now.

But not Chris. He knew what it was like, he knew what it felt like to have the weight of the world on his shoulders, it happened to him so much his brain wouldn’t switch off either, his brain constantly told him something bad was going to happen to him. He knew what had helped him but he also knew his love wasn’t in the position to hear it right now, the last thing he wanted to do was to push her away so he waited for the right moment, however long it was going to take.

One night, as they lay in silence, she whispered, “You don’t have to do this.”

Chris turned his head, looking at her in the dim light. “Do what?”

“Sit here. Deal with this.”

His brows furrowed. “You’re not something to be ‘dealt with,’ Y/N.”

She exhaled sharply, looking away. “I’m not exactly fun to be around right now.”

He was quiet for a long moment. Then, in a voice so soft it almost broke her:

“I don’t care about fun. I care about you.”

Her throat tightened.

She wanted to believe him.

The change didn’t come all at once. There was no defining moment where she suddenly felt okay. It was gradual. Painfully slow.

It started with one morning where she got out of bed before noon.

Then a day where she managed to shower without feeling like it took all of her energy.

Then a moment where she caught herself smiling really smiling at something Chris said.

She still had bad days. Days where the weight in her chest returned, where she felt like she was slipping back down. But they weren’t every day anymore.

Chris noticed before she did.

“You’ve been humming,” he pointed out one afternoon.

Y/N blinked. “What?”

“You used to hum when you were working. You haven’t done it in weeks.”

She hadn’t realized.

Chris nudged her foot with his. ��Feels like a good sign.”

Maybe it was.

One night, she sat with Chris in the kitchen, their tea mugs between them. She hesitated, then said, “I think I want to start working again. Just a couple of hours a day maybe, catch up on some lost paperwork.”

Chris didn’t react with excitement. He just nodded, as if he’d known this moment would come. “Do you want me to sit with you while you do?”

She swallowed. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Chris smiled, squeezing her hand. “Alright.”

For the first time in months, she felt a flicker of something.

Not joy, not yet.

But something close.

Hope.

[linos-luna]

Can you make a yandere lee know sadist story?

Pretty please............

Bruh there's another request in my inbox asking for a masochist Lino... y'all crazy lol. but who am I to judge? 😭

Ask and you shall receive...

———————————————————

His Urges ❣️🔪

Yandere!Sadist!Minho x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Yandere!, Smut, MDNI, biting, sadism, dub con, crying, fear kink, spanking, toxic relationship,

——————————————————— 🔪

It was an incredibly strong urge and for a while he did his best to suppress it but lately it's been difficult. You were just so cute and innocent!

You already knew your boyfriend to be quite possessive and maybe a tad bit controlling but maybe that was normal right? I mean he says he loves you. He always talks about how you're his soulmate and how he wants to shield you from the cruel world. You don't even have to work as he promised to take care of you. Sure he could be a little e rough at times but... not like this...

It was an innocent little date night. After a homemade dinner, you sat with him on the couch, leaning your head on his shoulder as Netflix played. Minho wasn't paying too much to the movie and was massaging your hand. He rubbed your fingers, loving how delicate they looked: just so perfect...

Slowly, he started to squeeze your fingers together. It wasn't too hard at first but progressively got harder.

You didn't think much of it at first but it slowly got more and more painful.

"M-Minnie...?" You asked a bit confused while looking at him, trying to pull away.

Minho didn't answer, instead squeezing even harder as he stared at your hand. It was as if he was lost in the moment.

"Minho! You're hurting me!"

Your sudden yell startled him and he immediately let go.

"W-why'd you do that??"

"I-I'm sorry, Kitten..." he said bluntly. "I didn't even realize... what was happening there..." He paused while looking at your eyes that were tearing up. Sure, he felt a little bad for seeing you cry but at the same time... not? In the moment, he felt quite excited actually and his heart was racing.

You only frowned while rubbing your hand and stood up. "I-I think I should go to bed now..."

"No wait!" Minho suddenly grabbed you by the wrist and kept you in place.

"P-Please let go..."

"No!" He yelled suddenly while standing up, scaring you quite a bit. "Hold on, Kitten."

"M-Minnie.... I-I just wanna go to bed is all..." you stuttered as he squeezed your wrist hard.

"Don't leave yet, our date isn't finished!" He said, sounding frustrated. "Please."

You stopped pulling and looked at him with tears rolling down your cheeks. He wiped away your tears with his other hand and sighed. "I'm sorry, pretty girl... I couldn't help it..."

"C-Couldn't help what..."

He was quiet, only looking at your wrist that he was still holding.

"Hurting me....?"

He nodded.

"Y-You like... Hurting me...?" you asked, getting concerned.

"... Yes..." he admitted, which had you surprised.

"It's sick... isn't it?" He had an unnerving chuckle that made you want to back away. "Sit down, Kitty."

"M-Minnie..."

"Don't be like this." He shook his head and sat down, pulling you by the wrist to sit next to him. "only 20 more minutes of the movie."

He could care less about the movie at this point. He just wanted you to stay here with him. He just wants to hold you.

After a moment of hesitation, you sat back down. Perhaps he just drank too much wine earlier... no way he was serious... At least that's what you told yourself.

~~~~~~

As the movie continued, Minho rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb. You were finally able to relax a bit and he would even give you gentle kisses on the cheek, whispering little praises in your ear. By the end of the movie, he was kissing your lips and carried you to the bedroom. Once he sat you on the bed, it got a little more heated as he gave more passionate kisses, using his tongue to dominate. You enjoyed it as he felt around under your shirt and kissed down you neck... that is, until he started squeezing your waist harshly and nipping at your neck. You moaned a bit, not exactly in pleasure, but in pain. He took that as a sign to keep going as he bit harder along your neck, finally making you cry out and try pushing him away.

"Minnie!" you gasped as he pushed you to your back and smirked down at you while pulling your hair.

"What's wrong, Kitten?" he chuckled. "can''t handle a little pain? you're so cute...."

"Stop it!"

"-Or what?!" he replied with a devious smile as he suddenly grabbed your jaw. "What are you gonna do about it, Kitten?"

You only looked at him in fear. He was right, what were you gonna do? you were pinned.

"That's what I thought." He chuckled while kissing down your neck.

More tears rolled down your cheeks as he lifted your shirt and left kisses on your bare breasts. The kisses were quite soft compared to the way his nails were digging into your waist. You tried stopping him by grabbing his hands but Minho seemed to find your struggle funny and keep going while sucking at your breast.

You attempted to grab him by the head before you were suddenly grabbed by both wrists and pinned.

"You like this huh?"

"No I don't!" you yelled back.

"No I think you like playing these little games." He chuckled. It's okay, kitten, I'll Keep playing with you. I'm not done. Behave for me, will you?"

~~~

That was only the beginning. Minho found some sort of sick pleasure from hurting you. And you? Well you just took it. There was no way out. You tried so many times but you were always caught and the punishments only got worse.

You loved him still but not like this. He said he couldn't't control it but you thought that was bullshit. There's no way...

The sex was rough, full of biting and hair pulling. He had no limits, in fact he liked seeing that scared look on your face. It turned him on so much and as time went on, he got more and more... Sadistic.

You were practically screaming as he railed you into the bed. After a long day at work, he had decided to fuck all his frustration into you.

Originally, he promised to not be so rough but that was a lie. Admittedly, it was a little pleasurable at first but then it became too much. Third round and he still had just as much energy from when you first started.

"Min- Min- Min-!" you whimpered as your face was pressed into the sheets. "T-Too Much!" it was obvious that you were very overstimulated.

"C'mon, Kitten..." he panted. One more time." He chuckled before pulling you up by the hair, making you scream. "one more time for me..."

It's not like you had much of a choice so again you came... for the third time.

You were weak and exhausted, nearly limp under him as he held you by the hair. once he was fully satisfied, Minho pulled out and laid you on your back.

"You're such a good kitten..." he said softly while kissing your forehead. "I love you so much..."

~~~~~~

This wasn't getting any better. Nearly everyday he'd be rough with you. It left you with bruised that you often had to cover - if he even let you out. at all. You wanted to leave but he catches you every time and in a way... you feel bad. Minho wasn't a bad person... right? He just had these urges. It's not like he'd kill you or hurt you on purpose right? It was delusional thinking and you knew it. He needed help. This pleasure he got from your pain was just sadistic.

He'd spank you at random or randomly pull your hair. He'd squeeze your hand as a warning or pinch your sensitive thighs. It brought him pleasure. In the moment, it brought him so much pleasure... He knows its wrong... But he can't help it...

So here you were, sprawled across his lap, taking what had to be your 12th spank to your bare ass. It was red snd sore, tears stained your cheeks.

"Is my kitty gonna listen now?" he asked while rubbing the reddened skin.

"Y-Yes!" you whimpered.

"Good girl. Now back on your knees." he said with a smile before pushing you to the floor. "You're going to listen now, right?"

You nodded, only to get slapped.

"What?!"

"Y-yes! I-I'll listen!" you cried out.

"See Kitty, its that simple..." Minho rubbed your cheek.

"I-I'm sorry...."

"You should be." He grunted. "You scared me! I had no idea where you were! I thought we were soulmates, y/n. Why would you leave?"

I'm sorry..." you repeated as tears formed again.

"I know you are, Kitten..." He said while rubbing your cheek. "You still love me?"

" Yes..."

As odd as it was, you still did so it wasn't a lie...

Minho was pretty satisfied with that answer and helped you up so you could lay in bed.

After tucking you in, Minho laid next to you and sighed while gently rubbing your cheek.

"I'm sorry, Kitten...." he whispered while looking at you, seemingly feeling some shame. "I wish... I wish I could control it... I... I really do love you..." he said with a genuine tear of guilt running down his cheek. "I-I hope you can forgive me..."

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

You're not supposed to feel bad for him... but he is self aware so...

[writing-rat]

Such a cockslut

JENNA ORTEGA X AFAB READER (NO PRONOUNS USED)

Warnings: 18+ Content, Smut, G!P Jenna, Blowing smoke in face, blowjob, mentions of a photo being taken, semi-public sex, first RFP so may be bad

INSPIRED BY: @deep-fried-egg

-

It had been a long and stressful day for Jenna at the studio. She was stretching as she was walking inside the door after exiting her truck and was putting her bag down on the floor then took off her boots. She looked around for Y/N then. She peered into the kitchen, not seeing you then peered into the living room. That’s where she saw you wrapped in a blanket, looking at her like an owl from over the couch. Half of your face was covered so your smile was hidden. “There’s my favourite girl,” Jenna grinned out, unable to help it before she was jumping over the couch and saw that smile before she cupped your cheek, and kissed you. You proceeded to kiss back, a big blush going across your face.

“I’m gonna go out and smoke now, okay hon?” Jenna spoke. You nod before thinking. “Can I join?” You asked shyly, as you had a plan to help her destress even more so she didn’t have more than 1 cigarette. Jenna, intrigued, nodded. “Course you can my love,” she responded. She led you both out to the front porch as she sat down, lighting the cigarette as she was manspreading like she usually did. You eyed her crotch before you looked around seeing no one. Slowly you went onto your knees in front of her, which shocked her as she was looking down while smoking her cigarette. She was getting hard, you could see it through her green jeans. Slowly you start to rub her inner thigh as you look back up at her, seeing if she was consenting to you starting to undo her zip. You even licked your lips to tempt her, to which she nodded. 

“Go on. You are just a slut for my cock, hm?” Jenna asked, looking down at you. You blush as you nod, starting to unbutton her jeans. She put the cigarette in her mouth and pulled her jeans and boxers to her knees as you were slowly starting to kiss her inner thighs. Jenna grasped the cigarette in one hand, the other gripping your hair in a tight grip before you slowly licked up her dick, to which she held tighter, a low groan slipping out. “Come on. I know you are hungry for my dick, so just suck it, hm? Be a good cockslut?” Jenna teased you. Blushing bright red you nod as you start to take it in your mouth, first sucking the tip before you inserted more in your mouth.

Jenna kept groaning in pleasure as her grip tightened impossibly harder, her hips bucking in your mouth. You let out a whimper before you start to bob your head up and down, your hand trailing to her balls and slowly starting to rub them too. Jenna loved it, and she knew you did too. She rubbed your hair as she smoked, groaning and moaning even coming out now. She slowly inhaled into your face, which you whimpered at but found hot. “Cockslut likes to have smoke blown in their face too, hm?” she hummed out innocently, to which you blushed and nodded. You sucked more and noticed a pattern. Every time you reached her stomach she would blow smoke in your face, like it was a treat. 

It was working though. Soon she was getting close and it was becoming obvious she was about to cum. You kept deepthroating and on the fifth time she came inside your mouth. You swallowed it all immediately out of instinct, looking up at Jenna as you kept her dick in your mouth. She proceeded to take a photo before she was rubbing your hair. “Pull your shorts and panties down, cockslut,” Jenna commanded. You did as told, revealing your wetness as she licked her own lips. “On my lap, make sure my dick is entering you,” Jenna added on. You were quick to obey as you lined both her dick and your pussy together, before slowly going down on her. Once fully down you expected her to thrust as she smoked, but she didn’t. She didn’t move at all, causing you to whimper and grind against her thigh.

“Ride me, I won’t move or touch you,” Jenna informed you. You was bright red before you was slowly going up and down, all shy before you thought and undid your button-up flannel and revealing your tits to the famous woman. She looked down as you felt her dick twitch inside, ogling your chest as you was riding her. She blew smoke on them as you gasp, nearly getting your sweet spot hit but was just a bit too high. “Such a good cockslut. Not finding that sweet spot are you?” Jenna teased, lifting her eyes up from your tits to her face and held your jaw, making sure you kept eye contact as you rode her and as she smoked. “Open your mouth whore,” she degraded you. Opening your mouth, she blew into it as you gladly accepted it. Hell, a moan came out even which you was blushing at, getting more drenched as you kept riding her. 

You soon came, unable to help it as you just found your sweet spot. You knew Jenna hadn’t cum just yet, causing you to keep bouncing on your sweet spot as you whimpered and mewled in pleasure, Jenna moaning more as she wanted to feel and hear your moans on her neck. She quickly moved your face to her neck as you rode her, whimpers and moans pressed against her neck. She let out a groan before she came inside you. You let out a gasp and let out a whine before she was bending you over a table.

You knew she wanted you even more now. She had pulled out to make sure to tease you as she was taking off her shirt. Eventually she was inside you again as she was starting to hold your sides, pounding into you hard. She moaned as she did so, ignoring the fact people could see you as she soon groped your breast with one hand, the other slipping to your ass and groping it as she was letting out loud moans. You proceeded to whimper, mewl and whine as you bit the table a little, closing your eyes. She was slowly starting to mark your neck and your shoulders as you moaned, her constantly hitting that one spot inside you. She was already getting close due to coming 3 times in the same hour. She waited for you to cum however. After 2 minutes more of her pounding, you both came at the same time as she was holding you by the breasts and the ass still. After a minute of riding out your highs, she slowly pulled out and kissed her cheek, seeing the abandoned cigarette as she stubbed it out. “That was your plan all along huh?” Jenna teased. You blushed hard and nod. “Yes…” you spoke shyly. “Come on, let’s get you a bath, some food and water then we can cuddle and watch some films,” she spoke gently before kissing you gently. “What do you say?” She asked, wanting consent. You nodded, feeling your heart flutter. “Please and thank you,” you speak, before kissing back.

[mikachacha]

𝚁𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚂𝚕𝚘𝚠 (𝙱𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝙻𝚎𝚎 𝚡 𝚂𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚖! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛)

Synopsis: Bada found herself being head over heels with you, a single mother. She wants to be there not only for you but for your daughter as well.

Warnings: mentions of past abuse, language, a bit of angst but this is fluff I swear

(A/N: was supposed to make this sexy but i couldn't resist the idea of Bada with kids 😭😭)

🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸

Bada sighed as she was driving home. It's 3 am and it's raining a little bit. She just got done with some last preparation for the competition and couldn't help but think about crashing at your place since it's much closer than her's but she also didn't want to wake you up. You've been taking care of your daughter the whole day then she'd wake you up at 3 am just so she could crash at your place. But then again, she doesn't have any other options left. The rain is picking up and she's getting more and more drowsy so she drove to your place, hoping you wouldn't get mad at her for going there so early.

As she was driving, her mind drifted to you. Bada met you two years ago. You're working at a café near JustJerk and you always have your daughter with you. She found it adorable and just really inspiring at how hard you worked but also having to take care of a small child all at once. If someone told Bada that she'd be head over heels with a single mother two years ago, she'd probably laugh at them and what they're saying is ridiculous but right now, all Bada wants is to see you and just hold you close to her.

When she got to your house, she only had to knock twice before you opened the door. She knew immediately that you were crying because of how puffy your eyes looked. You didn't have to say anything, she just engulfed you in a hug. You felt comfort being wrapped in Bada's arms. You didn't expect her to really take you seriously before. You're already second hand by society's standard. Used up, with a child but no husband in sight. So when Bada proved to you that she is more than serious about what she feels for you, you thanked all of your lucky stars for giving you someone who is gentle, who is loving and amazing to be there for you and your daughter.

"What's wrong? Why were you crying?" Bada asked as both of you sat on the couch. You sighed and just rested your head on your shoulder, contemplating whether you should tell Bada or not. You know she's tired from preparing for Street Woman Fighter, you didn't want to dump all your problems to her as she's already got a lot on her plate at the moment.

"It's nothing, baby.. Go get changed and get some rest. It's already 3 am. I'm sure you're tired that's why you drove here.." you averted the topic which made Bada frown but decided not to push it and make you upset. Bada slept beside you and just held you close to her the whole time, letting you know that you're not alone and that she's always there for you.

It was hard for you to trust anyone again after your husband divorce you, just two years after you had your daughter Hana. There were lots who wanted to date you but you couldn't bring yourself to even consider going out with them because you're scared they only wanted you for your body or they'd just hurt you or your daughter, just like your ex husband did. You also didn't want your daughter to be heartbroken again by seeing someone then they ended up leaving you. With all that, you never expected that you'd end up with Bada but she persisted. She proved to you for two years that she's not going anywhere, that she wants to stay in yours and Hana's life. Bada didn't really give up even when you push her away repeatedly and now here you are, happy to be with each other. Bada became your safe space while you and Hana became her biggest inspiration to persevere and to work harder.

Morning came and Hana excitedly ran to your room like she always does everyday. Your four year old daughter then saw Bada sleeping next to you and you smiled as she crawled in bed between you and Bada, giggling while giving you a morning kiss before giving one to Bada as well. It's always a great day for Hana when Bada is around because she feels like she's got a complete family. She'd even tell her friends proudly that she's got two moms now which Bada found incredibly touching as Hana considers her a family now.

"Good morning, little princess.." Bada greets and kisses Hana's forehead which makes your daughter giggle even more and hug yours and Bada's arms.

"Good morning! This is the best morning ever! Though you didn't wake me up when you came home. Badddd!" Hana pouted and you laughed, ruffling your daughter's hair playfully. She always gets all pouty when she doesn't see Bada come home.

"Bada's way too sleepy last night, baby.. I had to drag her out of her car and to bed." you joked and Bada played along by pretending to snore loudly. The bedroom was filled with laughter and it made your heart swell with joy knowing that even though you already have a daughter, there's still someone who's gonna love you with everything they've got.

[milaisreading]

A new puffin

🌱🩷: I have been watching one too many puffling videos... Don't ask.

Warnings: Reader uses she/her. Requests are open

🌍Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya🌏

Ever since (Y/n) got introduced to Iceland and Norway by Denmark, she really tried her hardest for them to like her and accept her as a friend, same went for Finland and Sweden. To her surprise, it wasn't that hard to get along with Norway, as long as you didn't annoy him and listened to his mythology or his magical friends, he would accept you pretty fast. (Y/n) came to realize she judged the stoic looking nation to fast, as he was pretty fun to be around, and was relaxed for the most part. Iceland being the youngest did have a harder time accepting her as a newcomer, but after giving him some sweets and treating him less like a kid, he will be quick to accept you. Finland was the easiest to make friends with, (Y/n) noted. The country was friendly to her from the get go, something she could only compare to Denmark, who she met centuries ago while she was still a kid. Sweden, much like Norway was easy to get along with as long as you treat him well and don't panic so much around his stoic expression. (Y/n), though, soon came to realize that none of the nations were hard to get along with, but more of a certain bird that was always found on Iceland's head or shoulder. When it came to animals, (Y/n) had a huge heart for them! Due to her having been isolated for long, she grew close to the animals that reside in her forsts, lakes, and on the shores, and Mr. Puffin was really no exception. She found the talkative and, sometimes, blunt bird cute and funny, so she tried to get him to like her pretty much since day one. That proved to be a challenge, (Y/n) soon realized. While Hanatamago warmed up to her pretty much immediately, Mr. Puffin to this day would reject any form of affections or gifts she would give him. This left the nation distraught, which lead to Iceland first talking to the bird to be nicer, and when that didn't work he would try to comfort her in his own way.

"He is just stupid. Pay him no mind."

"He will come around. Just ignore him for a while."

Each time (Y/n) would just slowly nod her head, but her determination never really lessened.

"Mr. Puffin! I got you some dried hake and herring from my place! I am sure you will like it!" (Y/n) beamed as she ran towards the bird, which was sat on the couch, and held up the two bags of food. Finland and Sweden hid behind the doorway, hoping that today might be different. But, to all 3 countries' dismay, the bird just looked away and took off of the couch.

"Not hungry." The bird said and flew out of the living room. (Y/n) sighed in sadness and sat down on the couch as Sweden walked over to her, silently patting her bed.

"He will come around, (C/n). I am sure of it." Finland said softly, but only got a head shake from her.

"I have been told that for so long, you don't need to comfort me with that anymore." (Y/n) smiled at the Finnish man and got up.

"Where are you going?" Sweden asked as je watched her leave.

"I will just go out and get some fresh air." (Y/n) answered back, taking her coat and scarf off of the hanger.

"And what about these dried fish?" Finland called out.

"Put it away! Those were specifically made for Mr. Puffin. Maybe if Iceland offered it to him he will take it." She said sadly and and left the house after putting on her shoes.

"I am definitely the issue here. Maybe I am too persistent? I try to give Mr. Puffin h8s space, but he is so adorable, even if he is rude at times." (Y/n) sighed as she sat on a cliff, looking at the horizon.

"I don't know what to do anymore? All the animals I usually interact with like me right away... Maybe, Mr. Puffin is that one animal that will never like me." She sighed sadly and looked at her watch, realizing she had been out for a few hours, and she needed to go back and help prepare dinner with Norway. But, before she could get up, she heard some weird chirping sounds freezing for a moment, she slowly looked back, and to her shock she found a puffling looking up at her.

"Huh? What are you doing here, little one? Shouldn't you be out there with your friends?" She whispered as silently as possible, not wanting to scare the bird. Upon further inspection, she saw that the animal's wing was a little injured.

"Poor thing... you must be hurting so bad..." (Y/n) said sadly and slowly picked up the bird, and to her shock, the animal was pretty comfortable with the position it was in, chirping happily at her.

'Maybe a puffin does like me?!' She cried in internally in happiness and started making her way away from the cliff.

"I need to call Denmark! We need to find you a vet as soon as possible!" She said, carefully taking her phone out to call the Dane.

"I hope he didn't drink anything." She mumbled to herself.

A while later, the Dane had picked her up and drove them to the nearest vet who still had open. Thankfully, the bird was fine for the most part, just had some light injuries on his wing from a wild animal. The vet gave her some meds to give the puffin and bandaged up the injury.

"So, how long are we keeping.... it?" Denmark asked as he drove them back

"The doctor said its a male." (Y/n) said while patting the bird on the head and keeping him safe on her lap.

"And not for long. Maybe 2 weeks and he is free to explore the ocean. Poor baby, you were probably scared." She smiled as she lifted up the bird, which happily chirped. Denmark smiled a little and looked back at the road.

"Oh well, new addition to the family. Let's hope Mr. Puffin will be fine with it. He can be territorial."

"Don't worry. I will keep Baby puffin in my room. The rest of the house is free for him to use."

"Baby puffin?" Denmark raised an eyebrow at the name, earning a pout from (Y/n).

"It's a cute name! Right?" She looked back at the bird, which chirped back a few times.

"See?!"

"Why are you so restless now?" Iceland raised an eyebrow as him and Sweden looked at Mr. Puffin, who was circling around the living room.

"None of your business!" The bird yelled out, which confused the two nations.

"You act like Hanatamago when another dog enters our house." Sweden noted as the entrance door opened.

"We are back. And we will have a guest over for 2 weeks!" Denmark yelled from the entrance, confusing the two Mr. Puffin flew towards them, only to let out a shriek.

"What is this noise?!" Finland yelled from the kitchen as Norway walked out.

"What guest- Is that a puffin?" Norway asked as Iceland and Sweden peeked out of the living room, only to find (Y/n) holding the puffling as the adult bird sat on Denmark's shoulder and looked at it in disdain.

A while later...

"So, that's why I decided to take care of Baby puffin while he gets better. It will only be two weeks. Is that ok?" (Y/n) asked as she finished explaining what had happened while holding the bird. The other Nordics, minus Denmark, blinked at the animal a few times, not saying anything.

"Absolutely not! I am the only puffin around here!-" Mr. Puffin started protesting, only for Iceland to close his beak.

"Yeah, sure. I will help you release him once the two weeks end." Iceland said as Sweden and Finland chimed in.

"We just need food and a place for him to stay."

"I can build him a bed."

The two countries suggested, but (Y/n) just shook her head.

"No need. I still have that food Mr. Puffin rejected, and the bird bed as well." She reminded them. Knowing Mr. Puffin was about to throw a temper tantrum, Iceland took the bird out and Denmark followed after them, he wanted to see some drama.

"Well, it's decided then. You will take care of the puffling for the next two weeks. We need to cook dinner now." Norway said as he took out some of the bird food for the puffling.

"Ok. I will just take Baby puffin to my room." (Y/n) nodded while rubbing the animal's head.

"Why are you even mad?" Iceland raised his eyebrow as both him and Denmark looked at the adult puffin.

"I am not mad! I don't like my stuff being taken away." Mr. Puffin retorted back.

"You sure? You seem pretty mad over the newcomer. And besides, you rejected all those presents (Y/n) gave you." Denmark held back a laugh as the bird sent him a glare.

"Still-"

"Iceland, I will take that bird bed and some of the toys from your room." (Y/n) said as she walked by the living room.

"Sure. Mr. Puffin didn't use any." Iceland said nonchalantly as the puffin let out another shriek.

"Is the bird jealous?" Denmark laughed.

"I am not."

The next few days were spent with (Y/n) attending every and any need the puffling had. Regular medication, always a meal ready and relaxing with the bird. The animal's injury was healing faster than she expected, Iceland suggested that after the one week mark they should try letting the puffling fly around. (Y/n) was fine with it, wanting the bird to function like any other, but she was a little sad at the thought of the animal leaving.

"You are so cute!" She cheered as she filmed the puffling play with one of the toys.

Outside of her room, Mr. Puffin was glaring at the puffling, huffing as the nation kept fawning over him.

'I am cute, too! Cuter than that thing.' Mr. Puffin huffed yet again as be watched the nation fawn over something the puffling did.

"Good boy!" (Y/n) cheered while rubbing the animal's head.

"Let's get you something to eat. I bought you fresh eels this morning." (Y/n) said as she picked the bird up and walked towards the door, and Mr. Puffin quickly flew away from them both.

"Can I have some, too?" (Y/n) looked away from the puffling, that was eating peacefully, and instead looked at Mr. Puffin, surprised that he even flew to her for food.

"Hm? You want me to fix you some food?"

"Mhm." The bird nodded and (Y/n) blinked at the puffin, but eventually agreed.

"Ok. I will leave Baby puffin in your care for a bit." She said and walked out of the living room towards the kitchen. The puffling continued to silently eat as the other landed next to him. Mr. Puffin looked at the bird in annoyance, as he pretty much ruined all the peace he previous had.

"You are just a temporary thing here. So, know your place." The puffling looked away from his food and blinked at the adult puffin as (Y/n) came back again.

"Here you go! Iceland bought you this food."

"Huh? And where is the food you bought me?" The bird asked in confusion as the puffling sat down on her palms again.

"That? I know you don't like it when I buy you food, so I am just feeding Baby puffin with it. Don't worry, Iceland will buy you food from now on." (Y/n) smiled, oblivious to the displeased feeling the puffin was feeling at those news.

A week had passed since the puffling was taken into the Nordic household and the older puffin just had about enough of the bird. What was once the attention (Y/n) gave him was now all for the puffling. He really hated to admit that he missed it, and he scolded himself for being so cruel to the other nation.

'Great. She thinks I hate her and will not even pay attention to me. After that puffling leaves tho... will it go back to how it was?' The puffin grumbled as he watched both (Y/n) and Sweden inspect the pufflings injury and change the bandages.

Another week passed by pretty quickly and the puffling was all good and ready to leave for the ocean and meet up with the other puffins. (Y/n) and Iceland were standing near a cliff as they took the bandages off of the animal. Mr. Puffin was uncharacteristically quiet for the most part.

"Are you crying?" Iceland asked while sweatdropping, watching as the other country kept on hugging the bird.

"How can I not?! What if something happens to him on the ocean?! He is so small." The girl said back while the bird chirped a few more times.

"Well, whatever happens, happens. We need to release him. Besides, he will be back in a few years." Iceland shrugged, used to how his birds act. (Y/n) sighed, knowing he was right and handed him the bird.

"Here. You do it." She argued as the Icelander nodded and walked over to the edge of the cliff to throw the bird.

"Bye-bye." (Y/n) said as she watched the bird fly away. To her surprise, she felt a unfamiliar wight on her shoulder and she glanced over, only to find Mr. Puffin.

'Huh? He never did this...' She thought, slowly putting her hand on the bird's head. (Y/n) expected the animal to cringe away from her, or scold her like usually, but the bird did neither. He stayed still as she started patting his head.

'Does he like me after all?!' She thought as a smile was plastered on her face as Iceland called out to them that it was time to leave.

[multifamdomfan]

Why Does Love Hurt So Much? Pt. 2

@ivysayssup

Alexander Hamilton x reader(x John Laurens)

The good news is the nurses healed the wound and there was nothing left there but a scar but the bad news is that Dad is sending me back home. Before I left I told the truth about who I really am to Hercules, Lafayette, and John. They understood why I lied about my name and gender but was glad that I was honest about everything else. I couldn't bring myself to see Alex again, I didn't know what I would say or what his reaction would be. When I got home I studied law and eventually became a lawyer. I got harassed because it was uncommon for women to be anything other than a housewife but that just gave me the motivation to work harder.

A good thing that came out of it though is that the Schuyler sisters heard of me and wanted to meet me which led to great friendships. They invited me to the Winters Ball. When I arrived wearing my nicest dress I made small talk with the sisters before we all went out separate ways and I saw the one person I never thought that I'd see again, Alexander Hamilton. I was going to hide from him but it was too late, he already saw me. He walked towards me with an out stretched hand and said "May I have this dance?" It completely took me by surprise, did he not recognize me? Did he forget about me or did he not care?

My cheeks warmed and I nodded stiffly before taking his hand and we started to dance. My heart was pounding out of my chest, I was terrified. "So 'James', what is your real name?"

"(y/n). I want you to know that besides my name and gender I never lied to you. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you sooner but I couldn't risk getting caught." I responded looking down in shame.

"I'm not going to lie, I was hurt when I found out but I understand why you did what you did." I looked up and saw that he looked sincere. And we shared a smile, not seeing that John Laurens was watching us across the room with sad eyes before leaving the ball.

Eventually Alexander and I got together and then got married. It started off wonderful, it seemed almost magical but it didn't last long. He was always working and never made any effort whatsoever into our marriage. Then he started going out late saying that he had to go to work. I saw all the signs but I ignored it so I could keep him because I love him. I'm grateful for my best friend, John Laurens. He's always been there with me through it all. Especially when we saw the Reynolds Pamphlet.

We were going on a stroll before Thomas Jefferson handed me and John the piece of paper that would change our lives forever. "I'm going to kill him." I heard him mutter as we read it. I stood there motionless. It's not true, it couldn't be. But everything made sense with his behavior. Tears sprung in my eyes but I refused to let them fall. "I'm so sorry, (y/n)." He said while he hugged me tightly. When we broke away he said "Come on, you're going to stay with me." I nodded staring at the ground before we left to collect my things.

I didn't say a word to Alex when I got home and packed my things. I heard John yelling at Alexander through the walls, John really is a good friend. We left and I was going to file divorce papers and get half of everything but right now I just need my friend and sleep.

A year later I got over Alex and I developed feelings for John. I got my own place and moved out of John's place but visited often. We were talking about anything and everything but I was half asleep with my head leaning on his shoulder and I whispered "I love you." Before I passed out.

The next morning I woke up on John's bed but he wasn't there. I walked to the living room where he was asleep on the couch. I sat down next to him and brushed a few stray hairs out of his face causing him to stir and wake up. "Good morning." I told him in a soft voice.

"Good morning." He responded with his voice groggy from sleep. He then seemed to remember something and asked "Did you mean what you said yesterday? About you loving me?"

I completely forgot about that. I looked down blushing and responded with a quiet "Yes." Before I knew it he kissed me with so much passion that it contrasted with his innocent persona.

A couple years later John and I got happily married. John and I were drinking champagne when I overheard Hercules tell Alex "You need to let her go." So I guess that He was pinning on me but I deserve better than Alexander. I'm with John now, I love him and he loves me. John is the best thing that ever happened to me and treats me right.

[ventingbaybe]

1/16/24

I did end up moving out after that last post, two or so years ago.

Im on my second year break from school, the whole point of the gap year was to save money for school. I got kicked out though, so there went that.

My parents dont like when i word it that i got kicked out, I was “heavily implied that I should move out so that I can thrive away from my family because they didnt sign up to start taking care of me again because I couldnt go back to school” but not kicked out.

I got a second job, worked 80 hour weeks for a while, quit one, work the other. Moved from one apartment to another and then another. I dont have any roommates, just me. I cant get an animal because it would be irresponsible when im planning on going back to school and wouldnt be able to bring them with me.

Every month I pay $1000 in rent, $500 in my loan repayment, and whatever other shit i get roped into.

I have a boyfriend. I had a crush on him at the beginning of last summer, we met at work. I ended up getting over him at one point. But sometime in October I got drunk and flirted with him, we went on a couple dates and made it official. Its awkward. We dont have anything to talk about and dont have anything in common. I feel bad that I cant be the partner that he deserves, but we just arent fit for one another. We need to break up but we havent had any free time to see eachother and actually have a talk about anything. Hes a great guy, but romantically we just arent compatible at all.

Were having a winter storm in my state and just my washing machine pipe froze, so last night at 2am I got to spend hours cleaning up my overflowed washing machine and hand wringing out and emptying the machine. I feel constantly overwhelmed and like Im drowning, but I dont have a solid enough support system to feel helped. This isnt to diss my friends or anything, I just need professional help at this point and cant keep burdening my friends with this kind of constant badgering of venting.

I need to make some more friends, like actual friends I hang out with who are on a similar level of being grown up as me. I need other people who are moved out that I can find some relation and comfort in. I just dont feel like I have anyone solid in my corner that I can turn to at this moment. Its my own fault which is even more frustrating.

I wish i could just go home and curl up on the couch and be comforted. Im a grown person whose fully moved out, supported completely by myself, but I just want my mom. I wish her and I were close. But neither of us are willing to let down our egos enough to ever talk without fighting. One time my mom told me she likes me better when Im drunk, because Im quiet and sweet. So everytime i go over, I have a drink and pretend it affects me more than it does.

I was a functioning alcoholic for most of my senior year of highschool. I’d drink nearly half a bottle of vodka every night. It hurts to see people compliment how I act when im drunk more than when Im sober. I wish I was a likable person. I dont know why I lash out, why I cant not have the last word, but I also wish i didnt have to fight everyone at any given moment.

I dont know why i fight but I dont know why everyone around me loves to rile me up.

My family has always known I had anger issues, and nothing made them laugh harder than seeing me lose my temper, if i got mad i was laughed at. If i got sad I was laughed at. If i stayed sat at that dining room table and went quiet then i was laughed at. If i excused myself to go to my room or hide in the bathroom, I was laughed at. There was no way to get away from the ridicule besides being an asshole back, and then someone else was always allowed to storm off. No one else was laughed at when they left. The table would go silent until everyone else excused themselves and it was just me.

Theres nothing quite like being left alone while everyone else comforts eachother. Why wasnt I included. Was it my own fault? Was I that repulsive of a kid? A teen? What about me was so fundamentally wrong that I couldnt be included.

I remember being young, maybe 9 at this memory. My brother had said something, I said something back, he stormed off and told my mom. I remember feeling excited when my mom came to my door. I remember thinking maybe it was my turn to be comforted. To be held and rocked the way she would to my brothers. I remember standing there while she screamed at me, hearing my brothers doors squeak open so they could tune in to the show. Being ridiculed for being such a horrible daughter, a horrible sister, just a base level horrible person to be around. How much my brothers would complain to my parents about how much they hated me.

Watching my mother stand there with this blank face as I would stand there, tears welled up in my eyes being told that if it wasnt for being family, I would be unloved.

She would hug me after, let my tears soak into the shoulder of her shirt, and say nothing as Id choke out apologies for being how I was. She’d stand there and hold me, telling me that all I could do was change.

So I tried. I tried so hard. I distanced myself from my family so they wouldnt have to deal with me. I got criticized for hiding away and hating them.

Now that I dont live there its easier. I dont see any of them often and they seem happy. My older brother is also moved out but he was still over there constantly, having dinner with the family most nights. I would tell my mom I would swing by later and come over to an empty house. Id wait for an hour, thinking maybe they were all just out, but they wouldnt be back. Id put away whatever Id brought over and leave, a silent drive back home to throw myself into an empty apartment and sit there. Not even a text to acknowledge whatever Id brought. Who knows if they even noticed.

I know my parents care about me, at least on some level. My dad comes over to help me set up my wifi, he drove me to work during this snow storm. I can see that on a base level he cares. But I hate that ill never know how much. Some people you can just sense it when you meet their parents, how they interact, how their parents look at them so fondly.

I feel embarrassed when my friends meet my family, not because Im embarrassed of my family, but because I know that the way I talk about my family isnt reciprocated. That no matter how many stories of my family I can share to my friends, how fondly I talk about them and their achievements, how every eyelash I wish on is spent wishing for my family to receive only the best, I know that when my friends look at my family and I, they dont see that fond look that their parents give them.

No matter how funny I can be around my friends, it will never translate over with my family. How I get quiet and move to the background around family.

I wish I was something and someone that could be talked about.

I wish I was worth bringing up in conversation when Im not around.

I wish just once in my life I felt like I was worth putting up with.

[johnbazley]

Sincerity is scary

On liking what you like and writing about it

In 2015, I quit my job as a staff writer at Alt Press. My editor told me I couldn’t write about the then-mostly-underground band PUP, whom I loved, because I had to write a listicle about scene bands’ Halloween costumes, which I hated. That was when I knew it was over. I couldn’t scrounge the love for it anymore. I called my editor one night from my bedroom, nervous about the possibility that I’d never write about music again, and quit the job I had wanted for years. The next morning, I drove around Monmouth County with a coffee from Starbucks and listened to that PUP album, trying not to think too hard about why I liked it.

I got into writing about music when I was eighteen because all of my friends were in local bands, and I wanted to write them into exposure. By the time I turned twenty-one, most of my friends’ bands broke up. By twenty-two, the blogs I had come up reading and writing for had all shut down. I took a big step back from music writing and went to grad school, deciding finally that I didn’t want to edit Pitchfork or write a cover story for Rolling Stone anymore. I realized that most jobs in music writing don’t give the writer much opportunity to write about what they actually want to write about, and they certainly don’t pay enough to make that compromise feel worth it, so I decided to give up. I went to grad school, seeking an MFA.

I spent my first semester wonder if the whole thing was a mistake—I didn’t make many friends during my first few months in the program, and I wasn’t sure whether or not I wanted to create the type of writing that Sarah Lawrence’s non-fiction program teaches: personal essays and memoir, mostly. I really wanted to write about what made me like that PUP album so much, the way I felt while listening to “Resevoir” the day after I quit my dream job. I wanted to write about the shows I attended in high school and college, the nights that made me feel alive when I was depressed into suicidal ideation. It took me a long time to gather the courage to do it. I didn’t want to get laughed out of the room. 

Here’s what I wished I knew then: the most universal language of writing is the personal. I learned that after reading Hanif Abdurraqib’s They Can’t Kill Us Until They Kill Us over winter break that year. When I feel disillusioned with my writing practice, I read the introduction to the book, written by poet and scholar Eve Ewing:

…Hanif Abdurraqib is something between an empath and an illusionist. Among the thousands who have read his work, I am confident that I am not alone when I say that Hanif lured me in with a magic trick—by apparently knowing the textures of my relationship to songs and athletes and places that I love. He knows our secrets. He has an uncanny ability to write about music and the world around it as though he was sitting there on the couch with you in your grandma’s basement, listening to her old vinyl, or he was in the car with you and your high school friend who would later become your boyfriend, singing until you were hoarse, or he was on the bus with you when you sat in the back with your headphones on trying to look a lot harder and meaner than you really were. He seems to know all about that summer, that breakup, that mix she made you that you lost when someone broke into your car later that year. 

It’s that feeling, that the writer was there with you during the biggest moments of your life, that makes good writing sing. This paragraph makes me remember what incredible writers like Hanif are capable of, what I am capable of when I try. It makes the blog-world feel small and petty. I think about this paragraph when I need a reminder that I’m the only one who gets to decide if my writing is sincere or not.

This line of work doesn’t pay much. The rejection can hurt. Sometimes, it is that “magic trick”—that feeling that the writer knows exactly how you feel, and gives you permission for feeling it—that makes writing about music feel worth doing at all. When I first started to read They Can’t Kill Us Until They Kill Us, I couldn’t believe that someone allowed Hanif Abdurraqib to write poignant, earnest, deeply-personal essays about the music that I grew up listening to, feeling more strongly about than anything, about Fall Out Boy, about The Wonder Years. It took me too long to learn that, in order to write like that, the only person I needed permission from was myself.

I published an essay about Fall Out Boy’s Infinity On High in Catapult Magazine last year. In drafting that essay, I tried to avoid writing about the way that album sounds, its place in the Fall Out Boy discography. Instead, I tried to focus on its place in my world. I wrote how it came to me during a time of economic and personal uncertainty, how it makes me miss all of the people I loved who moved away after the Great Recession hit, how something as simple as burned CD dropped in my lap by a friend created an entire world within me. I wrote it in grad school to please myself, to feel like I was getting away with something by writing about pop-punk in my Very Serious Grad School Workshop. When Catapult published it, Pete Wentz read it. He even shared it on Twitter, complimenting the exact thing I was going for:

When I read that tweet, I collapsed the floor, dumbstruck not by the fact that Pete Wentz read my essay, but that he got it. That he glossed over the part where I admitted that I didn’t care for Folie a Deux too much when it dropped because the heart of the essay—the sincere part, the part that was hard to write—resonated. 

I guess what I’m getting at is that I’m tired of the game. It’s easy to write about music; I’ve been doing it since before I could drive. It’s also easy to say that someone’s work isn’t sincere because you don’t agree with it. It’s difficult and terrifying to write what’s true. I’m tired of the way that music writers treat cynicism like honesty, that way sincerity and uncorrupted enjoyment, sentimentality, nostalgia, is scoffed at as a ploy for retweets. 

The truth is, there’s no glory in being the coolest kid in the room. If there’s an in-crowd, I want out. We’re all broke at the end of the day, anyway. I don’t want to be the first one across the indie rock finish line. I’d rather read something personal, something about how a top 40 emo-pop album got you through a difficult time, or how one Bright Eyes song allowed you to come out to yourself, or how Lorde’s Melodrama convinced you to drop your abusive partner. I want to know about your life. I think that’s a million time more interesting than whichever indie band’s bandwagon we’re all hopping on this week. I’m more concerned with your textures—the memories associated with music that make music feel like something more than some files on our iPhones—than I am with finding another band I’ll listen to once and abandon. If you need permission, here it is.

[zylev-blog]

It had started out slow. It took a year for Jazz to talk to him outside of ���work”, and even then, it was just about her adventures through the universe before and after she became Green Lantern. Bruce had suspected she was an alien, since she had the means to travel off of Earth without a ring. (He had also found out she could survive in the vacuum of space without her ring too, which had greatly worried him) there was also the fact that her ears were pointier than a humans, her eyes glowed toxic green when she got angry, and she was far too strong to be just a mere human.

Jazz sought him out one October night for help with her case. She and Robin (Dick) had sat on the edge of the rooftop as Jazz told Robin of her adventures through the galaxy. Robin listened attentively, never once interrupting her. Once she had finished several stories, she got to her feet, wiping the dust from her pants.

Jazz: I need some help with a case. I have a Gyrobian that’s eluding me and I can’t seem to catch him no matter what I do.

Bruce: does he have any associates?

Jazz explained everything he needed to know about the case, and showed him footage from her ring.

Bruce: he’s being chased by that guy there.

Jazz: how can you tell?

Bruce: he’s always lurking in the frame, just out of sight. But he’s been in every clip you’ve showed me. You’re chasing after a refugee.

Jazz: thanks, Bruciebear!

Bruce: don’t call me that.

Two weeks later, Dick had been staying home with a nasty cold. He had a fever that just wouldn’t break. Bruce wanted to be home with his boy, but Joker was out on the streets causing trouble and he found it difficult to put an end to it by himself. Jazz had come back to Earth to tell him an update on her case, and she was able to help him arrest the Joker while she was in town. That led to her following Bruce back to the Batcave to check on Dick with him. She crawled into bed with Dick, pulling the ten year old into her lap, and sang him songs of planets far away until he slipped into a fretful sleep. She then used her ring to make a concoction that got rid of his flu within the day. Bruce didn’t ask what was in it.

The first time she showed up to the manor without her Green Lantern uniform on was the first time he realized how beautiful she was. She was wearing dark blue jeans and a red shirt with a picture of an unfamiliar sport on it. The writing was alien. Her hair was pulled into a long red braid, and she wore earrings of a planet he didn’t recognize. A red bandana in her hair held back her bangs, exposing her teal eyes for him to see for the first time. It was gently snowing outside, but she wasn’t wearing a jacket. She accepted the teacup from Alfred and made herself at home. She had brought a book to read to Dick, as she had promised the month before. The book wasn’t in English or any known Earth language, so Dick was more than content to snuggle into her side as she read to him. She ran her fingers through his hair, smiling as she acted out the scenes in different voices. Bruce was smitten.

Bruce took her out for a walk for Christmas. For whatever reason, she really hated the holiday. He was indifferent to it—he was raised Jewish—but she held Dick’s hand in hers and listened to him talk about the carols of Santa. Bruce and Jazz knew that Dick didn’t believe in Santa, but that he just liked the stories. Jazz then told them about one planet she had visited where their patron of the holiday would visit each child and give them their hearts desire. But that looks could be deceiving and that the people of that world had to be careful what they wished for.

By Valentine’s Day, Bruce had fallen for her harder than he had ever fallen for anyone else. Jazz was laying on the couch, her head on the floor and her bare feet across the back of the couch. She was reading another book out loud to Dick, who was also hanging upside down off the couch to listen to her. He simply shook his head and continued on. She had become part of their household over the last few months.

Dick surprised Jazz on Mother’s Day with a homemade card. He also called her Mom for the first time. Jazz hadn’t ever cried that hard before in her life. She hugged him right, smothering him with kisses. Bruce didn’t connect the dots to what this meant for him until later on.

Early JL days. Except one change: Jazz Fenton is Green Lantern instead of Hal Jordan or John Stewart. When the alien crashed in the desert , Jazz tried to save him but wasn’t successful. Jazz had spent the majority of her time off planet with Danny exploring the universe after he became Ghost King. She didn’t even know the last time she had been to Earth. She had pretty much given up her life as a human, which she was okay with. She had nothing left there anyways.

So when Jazz becomes GL, this leads Bruce to knowing nothing about her or her human identity. She had nothing recent. Bruce hates this unknown, and vows to learn everything about her.

He never planned to fall in love with her.

[uplatterme]

With Each Other II

cw: sub!dottore, reader has a cock, prime!dottore, younger!dottore/former akademiya!dottore, crying, overstimulation, degradation, praise, a three-way with two dottores involved, use of the term ‘master’, markings, masochistic prime!dottore, innocent younger!dottore

summary: younger!dottore worries of what’ll await him when his creator arrives after the previous events. on the other hand, older!dottore worries his place might be taken away.

a/n: please work *cries*

PART I

The younger Dottore sat on his couch, wondering if everything that had happened was something that his mind had somehow made up. 

These past few hours were unbelievable.

He thought he was going to get killed for fuck’s sake, and then he didn’t. Instead, you made his heart race so much that he was scared that his body wouldn’t be able to handle it. He sneaked glances as you went away to get some water and there it was again, that damn feeling in his chest.

He should have denied you harder when you first entered his place. If he did, then he wouldn’t have been shivering, terrified of what his creator would do. Of course, he’d never say that out loud.

“Hey.” You suddenly said, face only a few centimeters away from him.

He jumped, not realizing that you were there. You laughed at his reaction, handing him a glass of water. 

“You look good.” You complimented him, sitting down next to the clone.

“What?”

“Your hair, I mean. It looks good being this messy.”

Dottore dropped the glass on the floor, freaking out as it hit his foot. He really wished he had worn his mask today. He felt so vulnerable in front of you, and he couldn’t decide whether he liked it or not, which was why he was so worried. 

“Ha–I don’t care what you think!” He said proudly, despite his face being full of expression that's for sure not hatred.

“Cute. Is that a defense mechanism of yours?” You questioned.

“S-Shut up!” He screamed, wanting to run away. However, as soon as he stepped to turn away, his foot slipped from the splashed water that he dropped earlier.

He lost his balance, ready to hit his head on the floor, when you swooped in and caught him in the nick of time. Dottore was stunned seeing your face above of him, silent as it reminded him of when you two had sex earlier. He whined softly and instead of expressing his gratitude, he started flailing his arms around, hitting you.

“You act so aggressively when you were just sobbing a few hours ago. Calm down, sweetheart.” You advised, not really mad at the whole thing and knowing that he was probably only confused.

“Mind telling me what’s happening here?” A voice that didn’t belong to the two of you asked. 

The arrival of your Dottore brought two very different actions. While your heart was soft from finally being able to see him after weeks of waiting, the one who was in your arms slightly trembled from fear.

‘I’ll handle it.’ You mouthed at him, reassuring the younger one that everything would be fine.

Somehow, he put his trust in you, staying silent as you placed him on the couch from still being unable to move that smoothly.

“Darling, how was your mission?” You grinned at him, amused at his current state. He obviously hurried here, with the way he was sweating and quietly panting.

“The others will take care of it.” He said.

“Oh? But I thought you didn’t like it when people do things without your permission.” You teased the Doctor whose eyes were filled with desperation.

He clicked his tongue, seeing his clone behind you. He was naked and full of bruises, your marks that should have been on his skin directly instead.

“Your job was to keep an eye on Sumeru.” The older stated sternly, a voice that would terrify most.

You sighed, knowing this would get much worse if you didn’t step in. 

“Stop it, you’re scaring the poor thing.” You told him.

The one behind you smirked,  to which the Dottore in front of you didn’t appreciate. “You fucker!”

You turn your back, confused about why he would suddenly snap. However, his expression quickly changed from an arrogant one to a pitiful look before you could even face him. 

“Play nice, Dottore. Look at him, he’s even trembling because of you.” You said, patting his head which made him softly smile.

The older one wanted to rip the head off that clone. He should be the one receiving headpats, not him!

You faced forward again, not aware of how the clone was flipping off the other. Dottore clenched his fists. He could get rid of him so easily but since you were in his way, he wasn’t able to shut up the clone behind you even if he wanted to so badly.

The younger smiled, knowing he could use this to his advantage if he played his part perfectly. 

Your Dottore would never let that happen.

“I’m sorry, it’s just that I missed you...” He muttered softly, faking a tear as he said that. The younger one gaped, knowing his tactics.

“I missed you too. Come here.” You said, letting Dottore embrace you and bury his head onto your chest.

He belonged to you first, that clone would never be able to replace him even if he bled for it. 

“I liked your surprise. It’s fascinating that you were able to figure that out.” 

“Ah, I knew you would. That’s why I did it.” You smiled, taking his hand and kissing it.

“There were a lot of variables. Tell me, does it also happen vice-versa?” You asked the Doctor, pulling him to sit in the space next to you.

“No, what I feel wouldn’t affect the others. That’s why if I get rid of them, they’d only know it when it’s already happening.” He explained further.

“Interesting,” You said, bringing your focus to the younger Dottore. “You must be special then.” 

Dottore gripped your wrist, not liking how you were paying attention to his clone when you’d only met just this day. Special? Don’t make him laugh, he was a fuck up. A clone that had somehow malfunctioned despite his precise crafting.

He swallowed, seeing you push his mistake on his back, kissing his lips while he whined from your touch. He could do so much better than him.

Dottore called out your name. You wouldn’t abandon him like that, right? You wouldn’t abandon him just because you’ve found a younger and new prey.

Dottore started taking off his clothes, showing bruises that you’ve made that were mirrored from the younger Dottore’s skin.

“I’m yours too.” He said, placing your hand on his chest.

“Of course, darling. I’d never forget that.” You reassured the doctor whose heart melted with your words.

Right, there was no need for him to worry. You were different, you truly, were one special human.

You intertwined your fingers together, kissing his mouth and remarking the hickeys on his skin. Dottore’s back arched, your fingers slipping down his pants as you shaped his cock. Your warm touch was exactly what he needed from cumming untouched alone

“Hnn—ah!” The younger Dottore from behind you moaned, feeling what you were doing even if you weren’t exactly touching him.

“I-I don’t—” The sensation he felt was strange, it was stronger than the previous instances where he suddenly felt an immense pleasure out of nowhere.

“Hm, could you wait for a while, sweetheart?” You asked.

Despite only ever meeting his creator once in a while, the segment already noticed the difference in your treatment. Your actions were rougher, not at all gentle like the way you treated him earlier.

His ears twitched each time you called him ‘sweetheart’. Why was he given that title when his creator was given ‘darling’?

The younger reluctantly nodded at your question. 

“Good. Then, until I say so, don’t touch yourself.” You ordered.

Dottore mewled as you stroked him dry, your nails teasing the sides of his cock. “(N-Name).”

He shivered, cock instinctively twitching from your touch. 

“W-Want you in me. Please mess me up.” He begged, he was getting tired from all of the teasing without having it lead anywhere.

And while the two of you were having your moment, the other remained trembling as he quietly wept, the pleasure making him dumb with cum already leaking out of his tip. His cock was aching for any action but he ignored it, wanting to follow your wishes despite him already feeling as if he was going to cum already.

“Really? You want my cock inside you that bad?”

“M-Mhm! P-Please, I can’t anymore. I’ve been waiting ever since I got here.” He whimpered, basically ignoring the presence of the other Dottore in the room.

“Ah, let’s see you do it yourself then.” You stated.

“What?” He said, confused.

“Penetrate yourself with my cock, darling. Do I need to spell it out for you?”

He sat up, positioning himself to be on top of you. He sneaked a grin at his segment, bragging about he was the one getting all of your attention and not him. And if it weren’t for the fact that the other’s mind was so hazy right now, he would have probably sent one in return as well.

He took your cock in his hand, placing it on his entrance. He could feel himself slowly stretch out to take you in. Dottore flinched, already close to cumming from just insertion. You weren’t even halfway in yet but it was already too much for him.

He shivered, hovering on top of you. His walls were clenching tight with each breath of his. If he wanted you to be fully inside of him, he would need to do a little bit of pushing. 

“I’ll help you out.” You offered, grabbing Dottore by his waist before slamming him down, forcing him to take you whole unprepared.

He yelped, accidentally squirting all over your clothes from the action.

Behind you, Dottore had to bite down on his own hand from the pleasure. He’d already cum once, his lower half being a whole mess with his seed being everywhere.

“Come on, you were begging to have me and yet you’re only staying still. Do you need a little motivation?”

You hummed, thinking of something that would make him feel truly encouraged. 

“I see, how about this? If you don’t start bouncing up and down, I’ll have him replace you right now.”

Dottore shifted his position, getting comfortable before proceeding to follow your orders. 

“Good, but don’t look at me.” You said, turning his head to the trembling Dottore on your side.

“Look at how fucking filthy you are.”

Your nails scratched Dottore’s thighs, the pain coursing through his veins. The marks later on reappeared on the younger Dottore’s skin.

He couldn’t count how many times he’d cum already.

“You’re mine, you’re mine. Only mine.” Dottore chanted as he plunged your cock in and out repeatedly, quivering with each thrust.

He buried his face in your chest, the repeated hitting of his own prostate getting unbearable, panting before squeaking out. “Hmpf!—Master…”

“Go ahead, darling.”

Dottore yelled out your name as he came. Fuck, today’s becoming one of his favorite days that he’d spent with you. 

“Get off, Dottore. It’s his turn now.” You stated, bringing an angered expression to rise out of him.

“You don’t need him, (Name). He’s a mistake.” He argued, not wanting to share your attention with anyone else.

“I do appreciate you sharing your thoughts, but frankly I don’t think that’s for you to decide.” You refuted at the jealous Dottore who couldn’t believe that you would even spare a glance at somebody else other than him.

“I’ve taken a liking to this one, you see.”

“I can satisfy you in any way you want. Someone like him would never be able to handle the things that we do.” He answered.

You sighed. 

“Are you going against me?”

A wave of silence filled the room. Dottore never liked arguing with you, you also never did for the most part. But his possessive behavior was getting a bit much.

“We’ve discussed the boundaries of our relationship, haven’t we? What? Don’t tell me you’re actually in love with me.”

…

No fucking way.

Dottore buried his face in his hands, an action that reminded you of the younger segment. 

“(Name). When’s it going to be my turn? I want you too.” Dottore said, tired of being ignored and left to his own devices.

He was on his knees, looking up at you while shaking from cumming non-stop. 

“Darling, we’ll talk about this later.”

You ran your fingers through his hair, sending a shiver down his spine. The older grunted, still embarrassed at the unplanned confession. He didn’t think this would be going that way, if he knew, then he would’ve prepared something better.

“Sweetheart. Thank you for being patient, is there anything you want to do?”

“T-Then, can I do the same thing he did earlier?”

“Of course.”

You glanced at Dottore who seemed to be thinking about what he had just done. 

“Dottore. Teach him, why don’t you? I promise to give you an answer if you do.”

“You won’t leave me?” He asked.

“Never.”

[thxliaaa]

the boy | steve harrington

synopsis - in which steve makes it a mission to find out why the group has been ignoring you

pairing - steve harrington x fem!reader 

warning/s - none 

author's note - i saw a few comment about sabrina carpenter's song "because i liked a boy", and yes, i was inspired by that song to make the fanfic. anyways, here's the part two you guys asked for. hope y'all like it !! xx

hii !! i’ve been seeing a few mean comments about nancy, and i know she might be rude in this fanfic, but i will not tolerate nancy slanders.

part 1

masterlist | taglist

A week after you had confronted Nancy, Steve was getting a bit suspicious as to why the group has been ignoring you. Nobody told him anything, not even you. He needed to get to the bottom of this. 

He picked you up for school this morning, and while you were in the car, he decided to interrogate you. “So, do you have anything you want to tell me babe?” 

“Nope, not at all” you said as you forced a smile onto your face. Steve would be lying if he said he can’t see anything wrong with you, he can practically see right through you even from afar! “Mkay” He smiled back at you. Oh he knew for sure something was wrong. 

–

After he dropped you off, he went to his work and was shocked to see Robin working. Nevertheless, he ignored the reason why she was here and instead focused on his mission to find out what went wrong. 

“Soooo… why are you here?” He teasingly asked Robin, trying to make small talk before getting straight into asking her the question. Robin looked at him with a blank expression on her face “Why do you care, dingus?” before going to the shelves to stack movies.

He then followed her like a lost puppy. “Do you have any plans this weekend?” 

“No” 

“Are you sure? Are you really really sure Robin?” He teased her, and when she turned to look at him, he had a weird smile plastered across his face. “Okay that’s it, what do you want?” 

“Okay, I wanted to ask a question. But don’t be mad when I say it” She looked at him annoyingly as she waited for him to ask the question. “What is going on with you guys and (Y/N)?” 

Robin’s face dropped as she heard the question, “There’s nothing going on between us, okay? You need to let it go” “But–” Steve was interrupted by Robin going into the storage room, slamming the door. He winced, oh boy this would be a long week. 

–

Tuesday finally came, and Steve did his daily routine of fixing his hair and picking and dropping off his girlfriend. As soon as he finished work, he dropped his girlfriend off at her house. This time, he knew who to ask. 

Knock, Knock, Knock

Steve groaned, he’s been knocking for God knows how long. He knocked again, but this time, it was harder than the last few knocks. 

Knock, Knock, Knock

“Jesus, can you wait?” He heard someone mumble from the inside. Finally he thought. 

When the door opened, he was faced with a clearly annoyed Dustin. “What?” Dustin asked with a tone of annoyance in his voice. 

Steve let himself in and waved at Dustin’s mother who was sitting on the couch and made his way to Dustin’s room. “Dude, what do you want?” Dustin asked again. 

“What’s going on?” He said now with his hands on his hip. “What do you mean?” Dustin said, who now had a puzzled look on his face. Steve just stared at him for a few minutes until Dustin finally got the answer. 

“Ok there’s nothing going on between us” 

“But there is” 

“No there isn’t!”

“Yes, there is!” Steve said sternly. “And you will tell me what it is right now. This is (Y/N) we’re talking about. I thought you liked her?” He continued. “I-I do, it’s-I just– it’s very complicated right now” Dustin buried his face in his palm. 

As Dustin sat down, Steve’s face softened at this gesture. He couldn’t stay mad at Dustin no matter how hard he tried. Dustin was practically his child at this point. Sitting down beside him, Steve put his hands on Dustin’s back trying his best to comfort him. 

“Hey, I’m not mad, okay? I just need to know what’s going on between you guys.” He explained softly. Dustin turned to look at him with a specific look on his face that Steve just can’t tell. It’s a look a child gives whenever you’re asking them to pick a side on a divorce. Dustin just couldn’t pick any side. Steve was always there for him, he was like their protector, and he would do anything for them. But so was Nancy, he danced with Dustin when no one else did. He was very confused on whose side to pick. 

“It’s not my position to tell you, and I can’t do it. Maybe someone else from the group, but not me.” Dustin explained. “I can’t do this, Steve,” He added. 

Steve nodded in defeat. He finally let Dustin have his peace, and left the house. But he didn’t give up just yet. 

–

You were studying for a Chemistry test you had for tomorrow when you suddenly heard someone ring your doorbell multiple times. Weird. Who would need you at 9:30 in the evening. Nevertheless, you went downstairs and opened your door. 

Steve was standing outside of your house, holding your favorite snacks. Oh no! I didn’t miss our anniversary, did I? You wondered. 

“Hey, what are you doing here, stranger?” You tried to answer casually. “What, I can’t just visit my beautiful girlfriend?” He said as he leaned in to kiss you. “Of course you can, but not at 9:30 in the evening!” you playfully replied as the two of you made your way to your room. 

Once you were there, you put your stuff away and sat on the bed with Steve. He was still looking at you, but you can see right through him, and instantly knew he either needed something or he needed to apologize. “Okay, what did you do now?” 

Steve put his hands up in the air while saying “Nothing!” repeatedly. You chuckled softly as you kissed him on the lips. When you opened your eyes, he was already looking at you. “That’s it! What do you need?” 

“Wellllll…..” He started as the both of you chuckled, “It’s about the group”. The smile that was once plastered across your face faded as he mentioned the group. 

“What happened to you guys?” 

“Look, it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it” You gave him a fake smile but he didn’t buy it. “Please baby, just tell me. I won’t get mad” He kept on insisting. But you knew that if you told me even the slightest thing, the group would hate you more. 

“Steve, please. Just let it go. You won’t get any information from me” You pleaded with him. He took a deep breath before pressing his lips together. “Fine, let’s just hang out. I missed you” He pouted. 

“You literally just saw me a few hours ago, dumbass!” 

– 

Steve had asked multiple people from the group about the thing with (Y/N), they would either always reply “It’s nothing” or would ignore him as well. He was getting tired of it. 

Just as he was about to give up, Nancy walked up to him. “Hey Steve” she shyly said as he smiled back at her. “So we’re having a movie and game night, I was hoping you would come along?” 

Perfect. All of them in one place, no one can make any excuses from him anymore. “Yes, for sure. Where and what time?” He asked. “Our place at 6:30”

“(Y/N) will like this. I’ll see you guys later” He waved Nancy goodbye as he quickly ran away from her leaving her no room to protest. She sighed, disappointed that (Y/N) will be there. Just when she was about to have Steve all to herself. 

–

When he got home, he dialed his girlfriend telling him about how they’re going to a game night and that she should get ready before 6:30 leaving out the specific details about who’s going to be there and where. 

(Y/N) complied and she got ready. Not long after, Steve finally picked her up. 

He put a blindfold over her eyes, telling her that it’s going to be a surprise for her. In reality, he just didn’t want her to be mad at him.

When they got to the Wheeler’s house, he helped his girlfriend climb out of his car and walked to the front porch. With each step closer, the noises from inside the house got louder. 

Steve knocked at the door, hearing “Just a sec” from the other side. Removing the blindfold from his girlfriend’s eyes before facing a dumbfounded Nancy in front of her. “Hi” (Y/N) said softly. 

“Hi. Come on in” Nancy quietly replied. 

Everybody was talking loudly before you came in but as soon as they saw the both of you together, they quieted down. They all just stared on the floor, not sparing eye contact with you. “Uh, Where’s the bathroom?” you asked Nancy. “Just turn right, it’s the door before the kitchen”

You muttered a quick thanks as you pulled Steve with you. 

“Why didn’t you tell me we were going here?” you whispered to Steve “Because I want you guys to finally make up!” 

“It wasn’t gonna happen anyways!” 

“Why not?” He asked. You closed your eyes as you took a deep breath. “Fine, you wanna know the reason why they’re not talking to me?” 

He started to listen attentively to what you were saying. You explained to him how Nancy still likes him, and how she basically turned them against you because you two were dating. To say Steve was pissed would be an understatement. How could they hate you just because you two were dating? Nancy was practically cheating on him emotionally halfway through their relationship. He had enough. He grabbed you along with him and went to the group. 

Once again, they were talking when you two were gone, but as soon as they saw the both of you, the loud talks became whispers. 

“Hey, hey, hey! Listen up everybody” He shouted, causing them to turn their heads to the two of you. “Whatever crap you guys have against (Y/N), it needs to stop now” 

“The relationship me and Nancy had was never sincere, it wouldn’t have worked out anyways! You were cheating on me emotionally with Jonathan while we were still together. So why now? Why are you mad at me for moving on? I accepted you and Jonathan together, you should do the same with me” He pointed at Nancy. 

“She has done so much for you guys, and this is how you repay her?” He asked as their eyes were glued to the floor, unable to look at him directly in his eye. 

“She helped you with Suzie when you guys were fighting,” He told Dustin. “She helped you and Max reconcile your relationship with each other” He looked at Lucas. 

“She didn’t want to leave you alone because she was scared that Vecna might get to you if we did leave you alone” He pointed at Max. “She talked to Vickie for you!” He told Robin. 

“And you, she was kind to you! She dialed Jonathan too many times. It was up to the point where he was annoyed at her just for him to talk to you” He ranted. 

“I don’t know why you guys even did that to her, but I don’t appreciate it.” His hand was now resting on his hip, you tried to hide a smile. Even though the situation was serious, you still can’t help but find this entertaining. He was like a father who was scolding his children for doing something wrong. This was one of the reasons why you fell in love with him. 

“I love (Y/N), she’s my soulmate and my other half. She’s the only one who I really got to be comfortable with. You have to stop treating her like this, she did nothing wrong. If you can’t accept our relationship, then you’ll have to lose me too” He said as he grabbed your hand while heading for the front door. 

“Wait!” you heard a voice say, you turned around to see Robin in front of you with a guilty look on her face. “I’m really sorry (Y/N)” she apologized as she hugged you. Soon, all of them apologized as well. 

The night was spent well, and all of you finally got back to normal again. You looked at Steve and thought “How did I get so lucky?”

Your friends had hated you all because you liked a boy. But you realized, he was not just a boy, he was your soulmate, the love of your life, and the man who you’re most likely going to marry. 

He risked his friendship with those people just for you. In the end, it was worth it. If this boy can risk anything for you, then so can you. You knew from this moment on that your life would change.

And it was all because you liked this boy. 

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