#we had a winter storm yesterday

[termytheantisocialbutterfly]

Did my makeup all nice only for my ride to not be able to take me to work lol

[zinaanqar]

Not Tents, But Freezers of Death: Their Blood Freezes in Their Veins 🥶🥺🧣

Five children have died in less than a month due to the freezing cold in the displacement tents in Gaza, and we are still in the early days of winter.

"I apologize for not posting pictures of the children due to the cruelty of the scene"

Here in Gaza, death from the cold has become a daily reality. It doesn't wait for storms or exceptional conditions; it's a constant threat, where children silently die in tents that offer no protection from the winds or rain.

Yesterday, I woke up to the crying of my four-month-old daughter, "Ronza." When I picked her up, I felt her hands and face were as cold as ice. I tried to warm her with all I had, and fear gripped me throughout the night. How can a tiny child endure such cold? How can I protect her as winter intensifies⁉️

Ronza is not alone. All my children, like the children of Gaza, live this danger every day.

No heaters, no walls to protect them from the cold winds. Here, the cold doesn't kill suddenly; it slowly takes the lives of the little ones, night after night, growing more brutal with each passing day. We need the world to hear our voices. The children of Gaza aren't asking for the impossible; they just want to survive.

Save the Childhood in Gaza from death by cold and hunger

Donate Now

Verified Campaign ✅️

• @/gazavetters # 213 • @/Butterflyeffect Project # 741, • @/Gaza Fundraiser List # 264

Tagging for reach ✅️

@turtletoria @pregnantseinfeld @prinnay @dirhwangdaseul @tamamita @chokulit @3000s @apas-95 @pitbolshevik @ot3 @punkitt-is-here @vampiricvenus @paper-mario-wiki @valtsv @omegaversereloaded @i-am-a-fishart @catsgifsarefun @spongebobssquarepants @vamprismdoll @postanagramgenerator @feluka @nyancrimew @90-ghost @beserkerjewel @neechees @memingursa @certifiedsexed @afro-elf @11thsense @sawasawako @spacebeyonce @skipppppy @beetledrink @schoolhater98 @fools-and-perverts @dailyquests @evillesbianvillain @wolfertinger666 @taffybuns @ankle-beez @sabertoothwalrus @meshugener @isuggestforcefem @yekkks @hotvampireadjacent @tododeku-or-bust @marxism-transgenderism

[uchinagai]

Echoes of Us - winter

𝜗𝜚 idol!Winter x producer!reader

𝜗𝜚 synopsis : Winter just wanted a peaceful global solo debut with the help of another company, 88rising, but of course, the universe had to nerf her with worse luck, or not…

𝜗𝜚 contains : idol! winter, producer ex !reader, fem!reader, wlw, mentions of a messy break-up, kind of angsty but gets better!! um yeah idk what else to say

𝜗𝜚 w/k : 1.5k+

𝜗𝜚 a/n : English is not my first OR second language so please, ignore anything incorrect. js a random idea I wanted to write about nothing too big >.<

The conference room felt suffocating despite its size. She tapped her pen against the table—a small, futile attempt to keep calm as the 88rising team finalized her debut plans.

How long has she been wishing on this? God knows. One might say she has wanted to be solo since her debut. So having her artist name—Winter—without Aespa attached to it made her feel funny and giggly inside.

Well not for long, because not only was the producer she was assigned to unknown and hid their artist name, not even taking credit sometimes, but they were late too.

Very late.

The conference was about to end when the staff, who was sent in instead of the producer attending, got a message and looked down at the phone letting out probably the biggest sigh of relief.

“She’s gonna be in here 5 minutes, can we manage to stretch it?”

She?

Winter's manager looked down at the clock and nodded.

“We have a full day today, Minjeong has no schedules,”

It was obvious, that the person they sent in to replace her, was clueless about most of the things. She couldn’t answer anything related to the producer's working ethic and how long it would take her to finish up the project.

It was when Winter glanced towards the door when it opened, revealing a beautiful figure of a woman, in her 20s entering the room causing Winter the forget how to breathe.

Not only was the woman beautiful but also… familiar, way too familiar to her liking.

As she sat down next to her replacement, also across from Winter, the girl almost felt nauseous.

The familiar scent hitting her nose brought back many memories, such as holding and kissing a person with this scent.

As the person across her settled down on the chair, taking off the cap, Minjeong heard a small *click* in her head, putting everything together.

She wasn’t just gonna work with anybody, she was gonna work with y/n l/n.

The ex.

Well, how did this all begin??

Let’s divide winter's 4 years of training into three parts.

Two years of being friends with y/n

Almost dating y/n for two years

y/n l/n vanishing from her life without a word.

y/n managed to erase herself from Minjeongs life like she never existed, if the rest of the Aespa didn’t know y/n personally they would think Minjeong was crazy and making up lies about her imaginary girlfriend that made her life worth it all.

It’s been 4 years now, and has the younger one moved on? She thought she did before seeing the girl appear right in front of her like they spoke just yesterday, all chill and relaxed. 

Did she plan this all out? Just reappearing into her life as her producer four years later after being ghosted?

Blonde felt sick to her stomach, everything was coming back to her and all she could do was stare at the girl in front of her, frozen.

As the staff finally managed to give y/n all the information she missed, she looked across her table, seeing the stunned girl in front of her.

“Minjeong?”

The same sweetness filled with worry rang Winter back to reality as she shook her head a little, maybe she was imagining it all, but no. The girl in front of her stayed at the same spot, looking at her with worry.

As much as she was happy seeing her, she felt just as sick and disgusted.

“I-i can’t–” is all she could mutter out before storming out of that room where barely any natural light setting in.

Older watched her storm off as she sighed and excused herself calmly getting up from the chair.

Y/n knew the SM building well enough to know where the shorter girl would run off, so calmly, she approached the bathrooms on the 4th floor, which in winter's words were the cleanest ones.

Knock once. Twice. No response.

The door was unlocked so y/n let herself into a sight of winter leaning onto the sink, water on. Face visibly wet which meant she splashed herself with it.

“No hello?”

“Don’t bullshit me y/n”

“Woah sorry me, trying to lighten the mood up”

“Lighten the mood? You’re four years late for that.”

“Still sassy as ever, hm?”

“What do you want? Did you take onto this job on purpose to make it a living hell y/n?”

“I took on a job offer from SM ent. For Winter of Aespa because I missed Minjeong.”

She shorter one bit on her lower lip, suppressing a smile, why was she folding so easily to someone that ghosted her for four years? She didn’t know. 

Winter removed her hands from the sink and approached the taller one, keeping a distance.

“Missed Minjeong so bad that you couldn’t think of a reply to her countless messages for four fucking years, l/n?”

“Guess you can say that,” Producer shrugged leaning against the door frame with a smirk as the idol scoffed at her audacity.

“Don’t bullshit me”

“Fine, then let’s say your company knew our little relationship, didn’t want me to debut with you guys and I didn’t wanna debut either so we came to a mutual agreement.”

Winter couldn’t believe her ears. She knew y/n like the back of her hand and she could always tell if she was lying by the way she avoided eye contact, or how she fidgeted with her hair or body part, but this time it was none.

“So that’s it then? I was just a ‘mutual agreement’ for you?”

y/n reached out her hand, trying to run her hand through blonde hair, like she would when Winter needed comfort after a long day of training. But she was four years late to comfort her, four years late to tell her ‘you can do this’, so of course, the idol refused and slapped her hand away.

“Hey now,”

“No, y/n. You can’t just show up in my life that I worked so hard to build and keep it after you just..-” she was tearing up, the lump in her throat was holding her back. y/n always knew how to crumble the walls she built. Like when y/n just effortlessly got a confession out of her and started dating just like that. Her wall was long crumbled when she breathed her scent after four years.

“I get it Minjeong, I do, why do you think I kept my name hidden all this time? Because I wanted to be ‘mysterious’? Bullshit. It was the only way SM would take me, not knowing me. The 88rising team has been going feral, trying to secretly set up a collab with you for me.-”

All Minjeong could do was watch the way y/n moved her lips up to her eyes, searching for a small bit of lie for her to point out and call her a liar but she couldn’t, older was sincere, which broke her even more.

“--I’m sorry for leaving you in this cruel industry, I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you when you needed me the most!”

“You’re such an asshole.”

“Wha-”

And she felt the familiar cherry-flavored lips mixed with salty tears land on hers, shutting her instantly.

Winter’s lips moved against hers with an urgency that wasn’t just longing—it was pain, anger, and frustration all tangled together. It didn’t feel like out of love to y/n, but it didn’t matter her Minjeong was kissing her.

But as much as she wanted to melt into the kiss, into her, Y/n pulled back gently, resting her forehead against Winter’s. Her breath came out shaky as she whispered, “Jeongie…”

The younger girl opened her eyes, her gaze locking with Y/n’s. They were glassy and red, but there was still fire in them. “Don’t. Don’t say my name like that. Like you still care.”

Older wrapped her arm around her, resting her head now onto her shoulder, snuggling to her like a leach as younger didn’t pull her away, and going as far as wrapping her arms around her neck securing her.

“You know I do, Jeongie… I always cared,” she mumbled against the singer's neck.

“You wouldn’t leave me like that if you did, y/n…”

“Jeongie, you had your dreams and I was gonna hold you back, you know it. I was gonna hold back the star that shines on the stage today and I didn’t want that,”

Winter couldn’t think of anything. She was too drunk to hold her close, so she closed her eyes. So they stayed like this for a while, enjoying each other's embrace after four years of longing.

“You missed me, hm?”

“Missing you doesn’t mean I forgive you, y/n l/n,” Said the shorter one and pulled away from her, while keeping her hands on her shoulders.

“Tomorrow, don’t forget, we still have music to make,”

She said with a giggle and just ran out of the bathroom, causing y/n to laugh at her childish behavior.

“Jeongie!!” the producer chased after her as their running and laughter filled the SM ent building hallways, just like the old days.

Maybe there was still hope…

[inkskinned]

sometimes i think about the span of human existence and how if you spread your arms out in a long line and said my body is acting as a poem of all the universe's birthdays, the smallest sliver of your furthest nail would be our entire history as humans. and you, doing this, feeling your sternum crack into place because you're-getting-old and all of your bones crunch these days: you are the universe, measuring its own timeline. you're the memory of a starburst saying i gave birth to humans at the tip of my finger.

and i think about how crocodiles have been around for way longer than that fingernail and how sharks have been here forever too and how there are sea cucumbers that understand time like an angel would; their ages so astronomically long that i get dizzy looking down into them. i think about my dog, and how i am so fantastically ancient to him (an impossible number, staggering) and how, at the same time, i can order my life in eras of pets-i-have-loved and how my childhood died when my cat did.

and i wonder if the earth does the same thing, if nature keeps time in epochs. if the tree in the house where i grew up said oh a new family and got upset when one by one we all left for college and left behind our climbing and screaming and birdhouses. that same tree collapsed during a bad storm this winter; heartbroken. the whole inside was a hull, shivering and empty. it missed our roof by a whisper, almost like it held itself together so it couldn't pass a hole into the house it's been looking into for years now. the people who took it away clicked their teeth. it was a hundred years old, at least.

there are things that went extinct in my lifetime. there are memories that don't extend to the tip of the finger. four years ago, for the first time: i saw a bald eagle in the wild. ever since they've been sprouting strangely in my life, their origami frames hunched in a racket of brown feathers. something in the motion of wild animals braced against the new england weather - like we all (all of nature, all of the fingertip) have the same shared hate when it's cold sorrow. like in years and years and years of history we never really evolved a better method than to close your eyes and brace yourself against it.

i saw a butterfly today, staggering drunkenly in the early spring air. it's too early for her other friends. i want to tuck her back into bed and say it's not your time yet! her life like a pinprick in my own. in butterfly school they'd have to stretch out their scales and say - at the end of your furthest wing is where you are in the life of a human. she is in my life, isn't she. something about how my heart seized at the sight of her, so brave and lonely and unfair; and how it snowed yesterday (and will snow again, probably), and how, in spite of that, she was out there and flying.

something about waking up this morning and thinking - i'm too old for this. how my hips and knees and back all make new noises. how the other day at a grocery store i picked up the gloves an older woman had dropped, how she'd laughed and thanked me - i can't bend down like you young folks anymore.

something about the theory that there's been no visible life on other planets because we are too early. that we are the first butterfly of spring. all this bravery. we know it is probably hopeless, and still we go. breathless, the same tactic - we brace against the cold.

[sonicssweetheart]

Omg I love your writing!! 🥹 please could I request nsfw Sonic x Reader with it being readers first time? Thank youuuuu 🫶🫶🫶

⋆🎐˚｡⋆ — hehehe i’ve been waiting for this one… turn it up!!! since there is no specified gender for reader i will do fem! (thank u for requesting! <3)

sonic x fem!reader ୧🍓 ༘ ₊˚.

ᝰ.ᐟ warnings ; NSFW, suggestive shower scene, gentle sex, oral (reader receiving), praise.

it’s winter, and it’s a harsh one.

you and sonic are the type to stay indoors when it’s cold, especially since it’s well past 9 o’clock and a snowstorm is manipulating vastly outside your kitchen window. typically, you don’t mind a heavy flurry, but it can be easily anxiety inducing with the fear of the power going out — which wasn’t ideal.

as you sat with one leg tucked under your knee on your leather couch scrolling on your phone, you could hear the mere moment of vibrating electricity before sonic appeared beside you , his leg crossed over his other and his arm behind you on the back of the sofa. he peered over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of what you were looking at, which he was bad for, being nosey and all, which just ended up being a Pinterest board. his gloved finger tapped on the back pillow, his gaze switching to your face as he awaited your acknowledgment. you tilted your head back on his arm and rolled your head over to look him in the eye, putting your phone down. “yes?”

“mm, hi,” he hummed before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “i’m taking a shower, id like to be clean before and if the power goes out.”

he spoke with charm in his voice, as if he was still attempting to win you over, regardless of the fact you haven been together for a little over 8 months. frankly, he swept you off of your feet each time.

you furrowed your eyebrows at him, lifting your head as you grew serious. “uhm, no. i’m taking a shower. you had one yesterday.” you protested, which in response he scoffed and looked into the distance for a second.

“you also don’t run around all day everyday smelling like every biome on this earth. c’mon, please?” he looked back at you with that stupid persuasive look in his eye that put you into a chokehold, however you weren’t complying.

“i also haven’t washed my hair in two days and look like i crawled out of an oil slick,” you turned to face him, gesturing your hand towards the window behind the couch. “i don’t want to risk going in after you when there’s a storm outside. that freaks me out.”

feeling rather indifferent about the jab at yourself, sonic ran his hand over his ears, leaning forwards to put his elbows on his knees, looking back at you.

“likewise, princess,” he teased, making you scrunch your face at him, “what’s the compromise?”

you opened your mouth to reply but stopped yourself, your chest contracting for a quick second before swallowing hard and shrugging.

“well, we could… shower, together? maybe. i don’t know. there’s less of a chance that way.” you suggested. he was slightly taken aback, since you both haven’t been in such a suggestive context before. however, he would be stupid to decline.

────୨ৎ────

you stood awkwardly in your bathroom within your shared bedroom, watching shyly as the blue hedgehog turned on the faucet, trying to get it at the right temperature. you held the towels tightly to your chest unknowingly, starting to overthink about how he would react seeing you so vulnerable and exposed. of course he has seen you basically naked, by changing clothes in the same room and what not, but this was different. however the soft look in his eyes as he turned around to face you softened that fear slightly. he took the towels from you and placed them on the counter and opened the shower curtain.

“i’ll get in first, you come in when you’re ready.” his patience and kind voice made you purse your lips in order to not randomly smile like a freak, and so you hesitantly slipped off your clothes piece by piece.

the steam from the water filled the bathroom quickly, and you eventually stepped into the shower to avoid wasting any time. sonic stood with his back to you, facing the shower head. you noticed the muscles in his back, flexing and straining everytime he moved his arms to wash his head. biting your cheek, you faced your back to his and began to wash your body.

it didn’t take long before it felt slightly awkward, however when you went to grab the shampoo, sonic had suddenly turned around and grabbed it first. you froze momentarily as he seemed to pop open the cap and a cold sensation ran over your scalp. his hands began massaging your head, gently working the shampoo through your roots and down to your ends. you definitely didn’t mind this.

you closed your eyes in pure bliss and groaned, leaning your head back onto his shoulder as he rubbed circles into the sides of your head. your back was now flush against his chest and a flash of heat travelled through your legs, provoking the other storm that brewed in your gut. there was something about his act of service that made your face flush and your knees to grow weak.

“does it feel good?” he asked in a tone that made you panic internally. you tried your best to nod, turning around to face him as you let the water flush out your hair. your sudden boost of confidence under the water with him turned quickly intimate as your chest was now flush against him. sonic lifted a hand to take a handful of your hair and strain the excess shampoo out — and you knew exactly what he was doing.

before another word was said or worse, you simultaneously crashed against each others lips, your hands raising eagerly to wrap around his neck as his instinctively ran down the dip of your back and latched on to your hips to pull you closer. the kiss instantly deepened as a few groans slipped past your lips and onto his, making his breath shudder. sonic had reached behind him blindly to turn off the faucet and whipped open the shower curtain. as much as his eagerness to get out of the bathroom was harsh, his lips and touch were certainly the opposite. the kisses lingered slowly as he savoured every taste and scent that flooded into his senses, completely drunk off of you.

you felt him grow hard against your leg, causing you to jolt a little at the sudden feeling. he pulled away, looked into your eyes with a feral expression in his own, and pressed his lips to your neck. he seemed to lap at the shower water that beautifully coated your shoulder & neck, being rewarded with the soft sounds that erupted from your throat.

“sonic, m’ please” you fumbled in a whisper, your hands clawing at his bare back. he hummed in response and didn’t hesitate to lift you up by your legs, stepping out of the shower and bringing you to bed. taking a break from your lips for a moment, sonic gently placed you down on your silk sheets and looked into your eyes with a serious expression.

“do you want this?” he asked softly, his eyes gazing at your soaked body and heaving chest. face flushed, you looked away for a moment.

“i..i do, just nervous. i don’t know what to do or say.” you admitted shyly. sonic pressed a gentle kiss to your jawline and leaned his lips to your ear.

“just let me take care of you, yeah?” his voice echoed in your eardrums, and you nodded eagerly, a soft whine slipping from your lips. getting you fully on the bed, sonic trailed small kisses from your forehead down to your stomach, his hands fondling anything he could grab.

“so pretty, baby,” he whispered as he reached your pelvis, looking up at you to observe your reaction. of course you were beet red and beyond nervous, however you craved this like a drug. you’ve only been dreaming of this moment basically since this man walked into your life. and now he was about to be buried between your legs, and the thought left you aching.

rubbing circles into your hips, sonic maintained eye contact as he pressed his lips to your inner thigh, his breath wafting over your aching core causing you to shiver. you cursed under your breath as you tried to keep your hips from jerking upwards out of excitement.

“you tell me when to stop, and i’ll stop, okay?” listening to him setting boundaries with a soaked body was something you would only find in a harlequin book. you stared like a dumbfound dog, nodding in response. he smirked before slipping his thumb down your clit and between your folds, feeling the wetness that overcame you. propped up on your elbows, you threw your head back as you moaned gracefully, making his ear twitch in response. he was quick to put his tongue to work, teasing you with small swipes against your clit then transitioning to sucking and tongue fucking you like his life depended on it.

it was impossible for you to stay quiet, and it was equally impossible for him to not rut against the bed out of desperation. sonic craved to make you feel good like this, to have the power to manipulate your pleasure by just his tongue. he took pride in knowing that he made you come undone like this.

he groaned deeply as his tongue slipped in and out of your core, having to keep your hips still with his hands as you squirmed and whined. he looked up at you with lidded eyes, his aching cock not being able to wait any longer to be inside of you. the look he gave you made your stomach tighten and a ringing to start in your ear. the tip of his tongue grazed over your clit once more which nearly sent you over the edge.

he could tell by the way you gasped, where he then pulled back and took a gasp of air, his mouth coated with your slick. he used his thumb to wipe it off and smear it on his tongue, crawling back up to you to kiss you once more. you already felt tired and overstimulated, yet your muscles were not satisfied as they awaited their closure.

“you taste so good, y/n,” he mumbled between kisses, his hand trailing down your chest and to your pussy once more to gently prod a finger at your entrance. you gasped in the kiss and bucked your hips up which notified him that you wanted more. he slipped in a second finger and groaned at the sound of your core squelching around his fingers. he pulled away from your lips, his arm propped up beside your head as his other hand worked through your core.

your insides felt as if they were swelling rapidly, the heat mixing between you and sonic had you basically melting into the sheets. “ ‘want it now, please,” you whispered shakily, your mind so clouded with pleasure you were sure you wouldn’t be conscious in the next few minutes. he slipped out his fingers, earning a gasp from you, and eagerly grabbed protection from the night stand.

you both chuckled softly at sonics struggle to open the condom with wet fingers, your heart swelling knowing that you didn’t have to be serious even during such an intimate moment. when he finally opened it and rolled the rubber shakily on himself, he hovered himself over you and bashfully scanned your body for a moment.

“are you, uh… ready?” he asked awkwardly, the poor boy afraid to do anything rash in fear of you becoming uncomfortable. reaching your hand up to run your hand down his damp quills, your legs instinctively spread open, your arousal nearly pooling under you. “uh huh,” you replied with a squeaky voice, giving him a look that would be forever imprinted in the back of his head. he cursed under his breath, knowing that he would severely fail at keeping his composure longer than two minutes.

the moment he began to slide into you, you let out a quick sob at the sudden pain, sonic being quick to ease you out. he pressed soft pecks to your jaw and neck, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. it was unbearably uncomfortable at first, however once he gave a final push, it felt like a puzzle piece connecting. you gasped , your walls clenching around him at the pleasure that quickly over took the pain. you moaned loudly, signaling for sonic to begin moving his hips.

he raised his head, his hands again placed beside your shoulders, a drunken look falling upon his eyes. fuck, you felt good, and he wasn’t hiding it.

he just watched you — mesmerized and drinking in the euphoric sight of your flushed face, hazy eyes and wet hair sprawled on the pillow, his lips parting in awe. he often day dreamed about seeing this, however that was nothing compared to being in the real moment. his hips twitched every time you made a sound, and he would’ve sacrificed his soul to have that on repeat for the rest of forever.

“does… does it feel good?” he asked in a shaky breath, seeking the reassurance that what he was doing was satisfactory. “mhmm, yes, yes,” you huffed out, your hands gripping onto his biceps as his body rocked against yours.

the soft creaking of the bed and precious huffs & moans exchanged between the two of you filled the room quickly, and it was just perfect. sonic found himself losing his coherence as he became quite vocal and sped up his movements ever so slightly, careful not to hurt you, his hands moving to your hips to steady himself.

and that sight was just godly. his fur still damp, ears twitching, eyes half lidded and muscles flexing with every thrust… the sight alone could have easily caused your orgasm. however, instead it was caused by a whole other sensation.

as one of sonics arms wrapped under your hips and was hoisted slightly to give an incline, his other hand rubbed small circles onto your clit. he retracted his cock slightly from inside of you, now only giving small thrusts around two inches inside of you. he watched you intently, breaths quick and ragged as he licked his lips at your reaction.

he was stimulating probably one hundred different spots right now, and it was ethereal. you tried your best it maintain eye contact, but the growing knot in your abdomen threatened your composure.

“fuck, fuck sonic i-im, i,” you babbled as your hips involuntarily jerked and sputtered like a broken engine. some sort of whine broke past his lips as he was clearly on edge as well just from the sight of you, his hips stuttering every few thrusts. “ ‘you’re doing so good, s-so good, y/n —“ not another word was exchanged before you completely let go, the sound of your voice on his tongue triggering what was threatening to come undone. sonic was quick to follow along, not being able to control the rest of his cock pushing all the way inside of you, hitting every mold in your sore cunt.

the heavy pants that followed your boyfriend riding out both yours and his orgasm let the moment sink in, your sweat and salvia mingling between the tension in the air. pressing his forehead to yours, you both closed your eyes and came down from your high.

a kiss was quickly captured between the two of you, locking in place what was just commenced. his hand stroked your hair, leaning his index and middle finger away from you so he wouldn’t get any fluids onto your clean locks. (gentleman!) pulling away, he looked down at you, smiling like a fool and climbing off of you to lay on his side, propping his head up with his palm.

“imagine, all of that just happened just because i wanted to shower. i think im gifted.” he was instantly back to his smug ways, which meant being back to your annoyed facade. you rolled your eyes as much as you could and attempted to push him away.

“you’re so gross.”

“mm… but you love me.”

“yeah. yeah i guess i do.”

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

a/n — holy yap… i feel like i dragged that on alot but its hard to stop once you start LOL anyway tysm for requesting anon n im currently working on new reqs!! 🩵

[justastraymoa]

Unwilling Alpha

Chapter 5

Masterlist

Taglist

✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️

The rest of the promised week with Stray Kids and the decision that will change everyone's lives.

Warnings ⚠️ swears, abo dynamics, mentions of slave trade, mentions of rape, mentions of abuse, mentions of death, fear, manipulation.

Nothing within reflects anyone or anything irl

Exhausted, I managed to sleep through the night.  It was a knock on my door that ended up waking me.

“Breakfast is almost ready.”  Hyunjin said when I bid him enter.

I nodded, yawning, and stretching, curling backwards in my bed.  “Okay, thanks.  I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

“By the way you talk in your sleep.”

Freezing I squinted at him.  I had never been told that before, but I’ve not slept in front of anyone but them and Chan on the plane for many years.  “What did I say?”  I kind of dreaded the answer.

He shrugged, still standing in the doorway.  “We didn’t realize you were asleep at first.  You just talked to us like normal.”  He half smiled, trying not to laugh.  “Then you started talking about maroon summer storms and dark warm wood.  Apparently, we smell good.”

I slapped my hand over my eyes.  “Never mind.  I’m staying here.  Forever.”

“Aww, it was cute!  Bin even blushed.”

“You are horrible.”

Hyunjin laughed and stepped further into the room to sway my exposed foot.  “Don’t worry.  You smell good too.  Like flowers, a cold winter breeze, and the pages of a new book.”  He sounded wistful and when I looked, his eyes were glazed and far away.

He shook his head and cleared his throat, turning to leave.  “Nice blue panties.”  He called as he shut the door.

Looking down I realized my blanket had moved when I stretched, revealing my panties and entire left leg.  I hadn’t even felt the cold breeze.

Groaning in embarrassment I flung the blanket the rest of the way off and rolled off my mattress to get dressed and face the day.

They were all sitting at the table again when I joined them 10 minutes later.  As soon as I sat I.N moved to fill my plate.  That must be his job.  As youngest maybe?  I don’t know.

“Ayen, wait.”  Lee Know ordered before a single drop of food touched my plate.  Confused, I.N still listened, putting down the utensils and sitting back in his chair.  “Yesterday when we did this you didn’t seem happy.  Do you want us to keep filling your plate and waiting?”

I was brought up short at the question.  “Aren’t your instincts telling you to?”

“Yes, but they tell us a lot of things until we learn what you prefer.  Right now, they are kind of on the default setting.”  He started to explain.  “The other Alphas liked it when we did this, so we didn’t think to ask you.  But like I said yesterday, you aren’t like the other Alphas.”

I smiled way to brightly for this early in the morning.  But I was happy.  They were starting to try and get to know me now instead of ignoring me and assuming what I wanted based on instincts and their experience with other Alphas.

“Thank you.  For asking.  Seriously, it makes me very happy that you did.”  I watched Lee Know turn pink before continuing.  “And no, I don’t like this.  It makes me feel used.  I don’t mind if you want to wait until we are all sitting to eat, but I would rather you not wait for me to be served and start eating before you do.”

“We can do that.”  Everyone nodded in agreement.

Then, a bit haltingly – like he was arguing with himself – Lee Know took a scoop of eggs and then ate a bite.  Everyone followed with varying degrees of struggle.

“Don’t worry.  It will get easier as our instincts adjust to your preferences.”  Chan soothed when he saw I looked worried.

I just nodded and started getting my own food.  As we ate various Omegas added food to my plate, but they did it with each other too, so I was fine with it.  In fact, I joined in.  The first time I added food to I.Ns plate he about exploded in glee.

“JYP texted me.  You still haven’t unblocked him.  He’s worried.”  Chan said as he pulled me away from the table so I wouldn’t help clean.

“Oh yeah!”  I had fallen asleep last night with my phone still trapped.

Taking out my phone I immediately unblocked the number so I wouldn’t forget again.

JYPs reply was almost immediate.  What Chan said must’ve been true.  He had to be worried if he was so quick to reply to me.

“He okay now?”  Chan asked.

I looked up from my phone and realized he had led me to his room.  His scent saturated every corner.  And it was surprisingly clean.  Neat and organized.  I always thought when he wasn’t on live or camera in here it would be a bit messy.  A typical bedroom type of messy.

“So, what are you up to today?”  I asked sitting in his desk chair.

Chan fell back on his bed, bouncing slightly.  “I’m scheduled for a live shortly and I wanna work on some songs, but nothing other than that.”

I smiled evilly.  “I’m so going to watch your live in the other room and troll you so hard!”

“I’ll troll you right back, watch me!”

I scoffed.  “You won’t even know which ones me.”

“I’ll just troll all the trolls then.”

“Good luck with that.”  I nearly ran from the room.  “Guys!  Guys!  Help me troll Chan on his live!”  I shouted, running towards the living room.

“Way ahead of you.”  I.N replied.  He was sitting on the floor in the living room, laptop sat on the seat of the couch.

“I will cancel my live!”  Chan threatened from his room.

“No, you won’t.  You will make STAY sad!”  I pointed out.

“They’ll get over it!”

“This is why you aren’t my bias; you flake!”

“HA!  I’m on to you!  I am your bias don’t lie!”

“You.  Wish.”

“You argue like you’ve been married 30 years.”  Hyunjin said as he joined I.N and me in the living room.

“Backup has arrived!”  Changbin called holding his phone above his head and folding into a chair.

“You’re outnumbered Bang!”  I cackled, giddy.

Despite his threat Chan did go live a short time later.  And I immediately began my trolling session by commenting on several of his more iconic embarrassing quotes and asking him to do those annoying things all fans ask idols that embarrass them.  I even caps locked aggressive compliments and pick up lines.  He was so red and flustered the entire time.  And the others joined in, making him worse.

Truth be told I had not had so much fun in a very long time.  I.N and Changbin matched my troll comment for comment perfectly and I was smiling so hard it hurt.  Sides cramped from laughing.

Before today I had never even dared comment on a live or do anything more than send likes.  Even that made me blush and hide like the person who was live could see me.

As soon as the live ended, Chan came running from his room and tackled me, pinning me and tickling my sides mercilessly until I.N and Changbin managed to free me, pulling me to safety as I gasped for air and Chan grabbed after me.

“You 3 are the worst!”  Chan declared.

“Oh, you loved it!”  Changbin argued cradling my upper half in his arms.  I was still out of breath from the tickle attack.

“Turds.”

I snorted at the weak comeback.

“I’m honestly not sure who is corrupting who here.”  Hyunjin mused from his spot.  He was failing to hide his amusement at our antics.

“I think there is a healthy amount of corrupting all around.”  I mused poking at him with my foot and giggling when he swatted it away.

“You are all equally awful.”  Lee Know shook his head at us, but he couldn’t stop the small smile on his lips.  I stuck my tongue out at him.

“You are all so loud!”  Han complained from his room.  “How is anyone supposed to get any work done?”

I groaned.  “You are on hiatus!  Stop working!”

“Never!”

Shaking my head I relaxed into Changbins arms, looking up at him.  I was trying very hard not to fangirl over any of them holding me or touching me, but damn did my heart race every time.

Momentarily I wondered if I was truly crazy.  Here I was in the position of 10 entire lifetimes.  I had the opportunity to be a part of Stray Kids.  Id practically have saved them if I stayed.

And I would have so many adventures.  See so many places.  Meet so many people.  And do such amazing things!  But only if I gave up everything I currently am.  Everything I worked for nearly all my life for.  It felt like such a huge loss either way.

“You smell sad again.”  Changbin observed.

I shook my head.  “Sorry.  I was in my thoughts.”  I took a deep breath to shake my melancholy.  Then I squinted and poked at Changbins chin.  “You know, this isn’t your best angle.”

Lee Know snorted and Changbin rolled his eyes and dumped me onto the floor unceremoniously.  I squeaked in protest.

“Who looks good at that angle?”

I shrugged.  Chances are there was someone, but I couldn’t say who.

“Speaking of looking good – are you going to do a photoshoot with us?”  I.N asked.

“Sure, if you want.  I have enough gear to get decent photos.  Nothing like your normal photos, of course.  I’m not as professional as the photographers you usually deal with.”  I answered as I crawled my way onto the couch next to Hyunjin.

And that’s how I spent the next several hours taking various photos of every Omega but Seungmin.

Seungmin had refused to leave his room unless he had to – claiming he was too busy to socialize.

But the rest of us had a blast.  Taking photos, solo and group, in nearly every room of the house.  They even changed outfits several times.  It had been a while since I had had so much fun doing my job.  I loved my job and enjoyed it, this just emphasized how much I truly loved being behind a camera.

It also emphasized exactly how much I’d be giving up if I stayed.

That night, after dinner, I hooked up my laptop to the TV and the 7 Omegas gathered to watch me edit their chosen photos.  Then they each posted the photos on their accounts.  I made sure to heart each post.

“Which ones your account?”  Felix asked showing me his phone so I could point my account out.

“It’s this one.”  I clicked the profile.  “Yah_its_y/n.  But you can’t follow me.  Everyone can see who you follow.”

“We won’t.  We just wanna stalk your page.”  Felix promised.  I rolled my eyes.  It was only fair though since I regularly stalked theirs.

My profile was boring anyway.  There weren’t even a lot of selfies.  It was mostly my photography and videography.

While they went through my profile I caught up on news and updates on Stray Kids.  I was several days behind on the gossip and fan made edits.

There were no posts on the new pictures they posted.  But they were just posted, give STAY 5 minutes to gush over them, edit them, then repost them.  It would be fun to see the edits they made to my photos.  I’m looking forward to seeing all the cool versions they come up with.

I was also checking to make sure my existence hadn’t been discovered.  There was the ever-ticking countdown for when Stray Kids either had to be bonded or dissolve forever.

I stared at the countdown for several minutes, not really seeing the numbers.  Instead, I was imagining a life with no new Stray Kids songs or content.  No more watching these 8 amazing people grow and make the world a brighter, better place.

How different my daily life would be without them.  Sure, there would be fanfictions and edits of old content for a while, but that would eventually peter out.  People – fans – would mourn and heal before moving on to the next group.  Just like with the groups this happened to before.  It was a never-ending saga.

I must have been giving off sad chemo signals again because Felix crawled into my lap and nuzzled under my chin, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Signing I started to run my fingers through his hair.  “Sorry.  In my thoughts again.”

“So not happy thoughts, then.”  Chan stated with a twist of his lips.

I shrugged a shoulder.  “Not every thought can be happy.”

On day 4 we played board games.  Monopoly got a little crazy.  Lee Know ended up owning most of the board and the money.  Then he became a mob boss/loan shark when we landed on his property.  That man did not play when it came time to collect either.

Chan had to finally call the game before we killed each other.  Tempers got a little heated.  Monopoly is a dangerous game.

Everyone ignored the fact that Seungmin yet again spent the day in his room.

I was a little confused on why JYP or Chan hadn’t tried to talk me into staying and bonding Stray Kids.  I expected some sort of campaign or negotiations, but besides texting to check in, JYP was quiet and absent.  And Chan avoided mentioning anything beyond tomorrow.

Yes.  Tomorrow afternoon Chan would escort me back to the airport.  I had already taken my suppressant with dinner so I would be safe from exposure by tomorrow afternoon for the flight.

The room filled with sadness at the subtle reminder, but no one brought it up.

That night, as everyone was asleep, I was woken up when someone crawled into the bed with me and wrapped themselves around my sleep soft body, hiding their face in my neck.

Hot steel and fresh water filled my nose, confusing me.  Freeing an arm I cautiously rubbed at Sungmin’s back.  He trembled slightly and something warm and wet hit my neck.

“Seungmin?”  I asked, worried.  Maybe I should get Chan.  Did Seungmin sleepwalk?  Can you cry when you sleepwalk?

He gasped out a soft sob.  “Please.  Please don’t go.  Don’t leave us.”  He begged.

I didn’t respond.  I didn’t need to.  We both knew I had to leave.  Instead, I held him tightly and soothed a hand up and down his back as he cried silently.

The next morning, as I packed and said goodbye, there wasn’t a single dry eye.  Even Lee Know had to leave the room several times only to come back looking suspiciously puffy around the eyes.

And I sobbed the entire time, heart breaking for so many reasons.

But this was the best decision for me.  For my future.  My life.  This pain would fade eventually.  To a dull ache I would grow accustomed to and live with.

And so, with one final tear-filled wave to JYP and Chan, I boarded my plane and flew home.  Back to my normal life I worked so hard for.

✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️

Unwilling Alpha Taglist: @xxeiraxx @hanniemylovelyquokka @breadedloafs @songleepark @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @hyunjinhoexxx @kayleefriedchicken @vietjeb @hityoulikebahng @juju-227592 @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @royal-shinigami @bangchansfavoritenoona @straykidslvr @bookswillfindyouaway @h0rnyp0t @Svmmerstime @jennibahng

[tikosblogg]

Noah Sebastian…. Christmas cookies

Summary: you and Noah try making Christmas cookies.

Warning: none, fluff, playful banter, kissing.

Snowflakes danced softly beyond our apartment window, transforming the bustling city into a winter wonderland. The aroma of pine and cinnamon filled the air, mixing effortlessly with the sound of holiday music playing in the background. We’d decorated the tree yesterday, stringing lights and hanging ornaments that were an eclectic blend of both our lives. As I stood in the kitchen, hands on my hips, I felt a warm rush of excitement. Today, Noah and I were going to bake Christmas cookies.

Noah was my other half his brown hair tousled and thick tattoos snaking down his arms. He was a gentle giant with an infectious smile, one who could make anyone feel at ease. But when it came to baking, I wasn't sure his calm demeanor would last.

“You have the recipe, right?” he called from the dining table as he wiped icing off his fingers onto the back of his jeans. He grinned, revealing that charming smile I adored.

“It’s on my phone! I swear it has all the steps we need!” I retorted, trying to shove my phone into the pocket of my oversized Christmas sweater. It wasn’t working quite as seamlessly as I’d hoped, and I nearly dropped the device on the counter.

“Do I really need a recipe?” he teased, his brown eyes twinkling with mischief. “With the way you cook, it’s usually more of a ‘pinch of this, dash of that’ situation.”

“Hey! I’ll have you know, I’m a great cook!” I protested, crossing my arms over my floral-print apron. “Just follow my lead! Now, grab the flour from the shelf.”

Noah moved with an exaggerated elegance as he reached for the bag, standing at 6’3” to my shorter 5’2”. “How much do we need for the dough?” he asked, and I shouted the answer over my shoulder, already preoccupied with melting butter in the microwave.

“Two cups, but make sure you level it off!” I called out, laughing as he raised an eyebrow, skeptical of the instruction.

With a playful grin, he poured the fluffy white powder into a measuring cup but, as predicted, he disregarded the “leveling” instruction entirely. The flour billowed out like a white cloud, dusting the countertop and getting into the cracks of my carefully assembled Christmas decorations.

“Noah!” I shrieked, laughing as I whipped around. The proof of our culinary ambitions was everywhere. “You’ve turned our kitchen into a winter storm!”

“I didn’t know you’d be so offended by a little flour!” he grinned, his hands now dusted white, making him look like a playful ghost.

“If this was a baking competition, you would be sent home right now,” I stated, shaking my head in mock disapproval. “You’re making this a level in a video game I didn’t sign up for!”

He advanced towards me, flour still clinging to his cheeks, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “Oh, really? Maybe a snowball fight is in order then!”

I had no time to react before he scooped a handful of flour and threw it at me. It landed squarely on my sweater, and for a brief moment, all I could do was stare, mouth agape.

“Did you just…?” I asked incredulously, the threat of laughter bubbling just beneath the surface.

“What? Can’t take a little friendly fire?” he shot back, lunging toward me, grabbing another handful.

And just like that, the kitchen turned into a whirlwind of flour and giggles. I returned fire, splattering flour all over his chest.

“Noah, you’re going to ruin our cookies!” I said between fits of laughter as I dipped my fingers into the flour, now all but masking our faces.

“Who needs cookies when we can have fun?” he replied, tackling me onto the couch, flour flying as we landed in a pile of laughter.

“Now look what you’ve done!” I said, grinning, realizing I’d lost sight of the baking mission. Flour scattered everywhere, and our once pristine kitchen was now a chaotic holiday battleground.

“Maybe we should just roll around in it like snow angels,” he suggested cheekily.

“You’re ridiculous!” I squealed, my cheeks flushed with both laughter and the unexpected thrill that always came when I was with him.

He paused and, for a moment, our laughter faded into an intoxicating silence. I felt the warmth of his body against mine, the soft linen of his shirt brushing against my cheek before I turned to meet his gaze. His brown eyes were bright and full of mischief, yet behind that playfulness was something deeper, a glint of desire that sent a shiver racing down my spine.

“Noah…” I whispered, breathless, caught up in the moment.

Without saying another word, he leaned down and captured my lips with his. The kiss was a beautiful collision, a mix of warmth and sweetness—an exchange that was both tender and wild, flour still twinkling in our hair like tiny stars from a forgotten Christmas.

Time seemed to freeze then, the outside world fading into oblivion as I melted against him, lost in the kiss. His hands found my waist, pulling me closer, and I could feel the beat of his heart beneath our shared mess.

When we finally parted, my breath was ragged. “We’re going to have to clean this up,” I said, glancing around the flour-dusted chaos of our kitchen.

He chuckled, the sound deep and reassuring. “After we finish the cookies, right?”

“Right,” I replied, smiling. “But let’s take a break first since we’re already this messy.”

“Deal,” he laughed. as we exchanged another soft, lingering kiss.

[miniversse]

⭑ “snowbound” pt.3 ⭑

╰┈➤ OTHER PARTS ⭑ bang chan x female reader

⭑ content includes: oral (m receiving), hickeys, established relationship, non-idol chan, non-idol reader, work relationship, use of pet names (channie, baby, babe, princess), releasing, mentions of shower sex

⭑ note: last part of this series! i’m gonna miss it loads. not too much build up you can live hehe. lmk what you think!

⭑ minors dni

⭑——————————————————⭑

your hands are wrapped around his hard chest, and your legs were squeezed up to keep you warm from the winter mornings. before your mind could think of what breakfast to make today or what chans schedule will look like, you’re struck with memories of yesterday night, and that you and chan are no longer friends with benefits…

you let your mind relax, taking in the peaceful moment and listening to chans quiet snores. you let your fingers run over his biceps and you left a small pec on them, lingering to take in his morning scent. chan let out a grumble and pulled the blankets up to cover his chest.

“channie~ get up so we can make breakfast”

his head sharply turns to face you, and his eyes were bulging out of his face. it took him a few seconds to also remember yesterdays series of events and his head falls back down on the pillow, letting out a hearty laugh.

“good morning princess”

“‘cmon, i’ll make us pancakes” you jump out of bed and slap his ass jokingly, racing to the kitchen before he can chase after you.

by the time chan came over, you had set the table and mixed up the batter to cook it. his heavy steps approach you from behind and he wraps his arms around your stomach and lets his head fall in the nook between your shoulder and head.

“can we relax for a bit? im still hungover and my body aches”

“don’t we have work today? i barely have time to have breakfast with you and rush home to get ready”

“its newcomers training today, we have a day off” his nose grazes the inside of your neck, the cold metal of his piercing sending chills throughout your body.

you let out a sigh of relief. “thank god, i thought i’d have to get another written warning today”

“even if we did have work, i think we would be too busy to make it. hm?” he lets a breath escape from his lips and it graces your neck. he sucked and nibbled at the skin below your neck, moving his mouth down to mark another spot, your head fell back to fall onto his shoulders and you let go of the whisk, leaving it to chan to mix up a storm inside of you.

“pancakes sound great, but i can start your morning in another way.”

he turns his back to a counter and keeps his gaze on you, waiting for you to act. from day one you could tell that your boyfriend was heavily turned on in the mornings, and he wouldn’t let you go until you obeyed him. so you grab the claw clip next to the long forgotten mixing bowl and twist your hair up.

“come here” he stretches his hand out and brings you close to his body, connecting your mouths together. his body brought you warmth on this cold day, and he would do so for as long as you stay together. you let go from his touch, and brought yourself down, along with his shorts. his cock bulged from his underwear, waiting to be loved. he helps you in stripping his lower body bare.

“be good for me princess. hm?”

you nod, your mouth watering at the sight of his thick dick leaking of precum. you lick it off and plant a small kiss on his tip, warming up to his touch. you notice his breath getting faster and he gets impatient, placing his hand on the back of your head waiting for you to devour him whole. you close your eyes and open your mouth wide, taking him in and adjusting to his size. he lets out a long groan as your mouth dives deeper and deeper to take in his lengthy dick, the saliva coating your mouth covers his length and you continue to suck him with passion.

“holy shit, keep going princess” he whispers and lets his other hand hold onto the counter edge as you moved faster and took more of him in.

you tried your best to not choke on him yet keep him satisfied but it was difficult with him pushing your head further and controlling your pace. you slightly gag and retreat for a moment before you kept going. his head shot back and he let out consecutive grunts and whimpers, attempting to clear his dry throat. his length jerks in your mouth and he moves his hand from the counter edge to helping himself reach his release, pumping his cock as you licked his tip and moved back up again. his endless streams of cum fill up your dry mouth, and you swallow with every release he has. he watches you do so, agaped.

you bring yourself back up to fall on his chest, panting in symphony as you regain your breathing rhythm. his hand rubs up and down your back, planting pecks at the top of your head.

“thank you baby”

his kisses and touches continued in the shower. you promised each other to take separate showers and resist each other but it was difficult when you were both snowbound, and the warm water crashing on the both of you wouldn’t melt that away.

⭑ FIN

⭑ TAG LIST (PM TO BE INCLUDED)

@captainchrisstan

@strayywayy

[lynzishell]

The Past 💛 Atlas

I was over an hour late for the gym tonight, spending the better part of the day in bed staring at the ceiling, and occasionally typing out an apology text to Ash that I would immediately delete.

I had hoped that everyone else would be gone by the time I arrived, but Dawn and Phoenix were still lingering by the climbing machines when I walked in, so I tried (and failed) to avoid them by sneaking up the stairs to the treadmills. Dawn caught up with me before I even reached the first step and knew immediately something was wrong. She insisted on waiting around for me so we could walk home together.

I was annoyed at first, wanting to be alone, but by the time we’re throwing on our sweaters and beanies, I’m glad. Afterall, I’m getting nowhere on my own, just spinning myself in circles. Talking to Dawn is one of those things I avoid until I can’t, and then always wish I’d done sooner.  

“So, what’s wrong?” Dawn asks as soon as we step outside. It’s dark out, making it feel much later than it is, and I can already feel the weight of the season settling in. Winter is always the hardest for me, and Spring is still so far away.

I’m not sure where to start so I just blurt out, “I screwed things up with Asher yesterday.”

“What happened?”

“Apparently, he’s tired of my mixed signals.”

“Have you been giving mixed signals?”

I give her a guilty look as I nod solemnly.

“What haven’t you told me?”

Everything. But it’s too much to get into, and the details aren’t important, and she knows me well enough that I'm sure she can fill in the blanks, so I tell her, “It doesn’t matter,” to which she gives me an annoyed look but let's me continue, “But he got pissed and stormed out. I can’t blame him. I don’t know what my problem is.”

“Do you want my honest opinion?”

“Please.”

“Have you ever heard the quote, ‘A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it’?”

“Yeah. What about it?”

“I get that you’re tired of losing people. And I know that causes you to keep most people at arm’s length. It may feel like you’re protecting yourself, but you’re not. You will continue to lose people if you keep pushing them away.”

“Maybe. But it will hurt less if they leave without getting too close.”

“That’s not true and you know it.”

“Do I?” It feels true.

“Did it hurt when Asher stormed out yesterday?”

Point taken. “Like I was being ripped apart.”

“So, why are pushing him away? You’re only causing the pain you’re trying to avoid.”

“I don’t want to. Not anymore. But it’s like, I don’t know how not to. I can’t explain it. Just, the idea of taking that step, I feel like it won’t take long for him to see that I’m not who he thinks I am, that he’ll realize I’m not someone he can…” My voice trails off, unable to finish the sentence.

“Love?”

The mere mention of the word causes my chest to tighten. I feel my mind wanting to shrug off the very idea of it. So impossible that I feel silly even considering it.

“Oh Atlas. It’s not true,” she insists. “That was the kind of shit mom and dad put in our heads. And I get it, I felt like that too for a long time. I just handled it differently. I chased love as if someone else could come in and take that feeling away. But that just made me toxic and clingy and insufferable. It was my own version of pushing people away. And every time they left it felt like proof that I was right, that I wasn’t worth loving. But it wasn’t true, was it?”

“No.”

“It’s not true for you either.”

I understand what she’s saying, and logically I know she’s right, but there’s a part of me deep down that rejects it.

When I try to continue walking, she stops me, placing a hand over my heart, “I love you, Atlas. And not just because you’re my brother. Because you are caring and kind and gentle and loyal and supportive and I could go on forever. Not only are you worthy of love, but it is impossible not to love you.”

I don’t know what to say to that. It’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me, and I can tell from the look on her face that she’s sincere. “Thank you.” I reach out and give her the biggest hug I ever have. She’s surprised at first, but hugs me back, squeezing me tight. I don't think either of us realized how much I needed to hear those words. We don't say them often, it doesn't come naturally to either of us, it's usually just implied in the ways we support each other, but maybe we should be saying the words more often. "I love you too."

“So, what am I supposed to do?” I ask as we step apart and start walking again. 

“Do you want to be with him?”

“Yes.”

“Then go talk to him. And be honest.”

“What if it’s too late?”

“Then I’ll be here for you. But there’s only one way to find out.”

Prev // Deja vu // Next

[gardenschedule]

Quotes about the Lennon-Mccartney rivalry & John's insecurity

A long one!!

Pre-fame

“Paul was very good,” said Eric [Griffiths, of The Quarrymen]. “We could all see that. He was precocious in many ways. Not just in music but in relating to people.” […] His charm also worried John, according to Eric. “We were all walking down Halewood Drive to my house to do some practising. I was walking ahead with John. The others were behind. John suddenly said: ‘Let’s split the group, and you and me will start again.’ “We could hear Paul behind us, chatting to Pete [Shotton] as if he was Pete’s best friend. John knew we were all his pals, but now Paul was trying to get in on us. Not to split us up, just make friends with us all. I’m sure that was all it was, but to John it looked as if Paul was trying to take over, dominate the group. I suppose he was worried it could disrupt the balance, upset the group dynamics, as we might say today. “I said to him: ‘Paul’s so good. He’ll contribute a lot to the group. We need him with us.’ John said nothing. But after that the subject was never mentioned again.”

Eric Griffiths, c/o Hunter Davies, Sunday Times: A Beatle’s boyhood. (March 25th, 2001)

"It was uncanny. He could play and sing in a way that none of us could, including John," Eric Griffiths recalls. "He had such confidence, he gave a performance. It was natural. We couldn't get enough of it. It was a real eye-opener." After listening to Paul play, John recalled, "I had thought to myself, 'He's as good as me.' Now, I thought, if I take him on, what will happen? It went through my head that I'd have to keep him in line if I let him join [the band]. But he was good, so he was worth having. He also looked like Elvis. I dug him."

Bob Spitz, The Beatles: The Biography, 2005

Mimi remained resolutely unimpressed by anything her nephew composed with his ‘little friend’. ‘John would say, “We’ve got this song, Mimi, do you want to hear it?”’ she recalled. ‘And I would say, “Certainly not… front porch, John Lennon, front porch.”’ What she overheard that clearly wasn’t ‘caterwauling’ became another way of discomfiting John. ‘[He] got very upset with me when I mentioned one night that I thought Paul was the better guitar player. That set him off, banging away on his own guitar. There was quite a bit of rivalry going on there.’

Philip Norman, Paul McCartney: The Life. (2016)

Friends looked to Paul to control the damage, but it was beyond even his know-how. When John “went off like that,” Paul usually waited for the storm to pass or humored John to keep him from turning up the heat. And unbeknownst to Paul, some considered his presence in these situations more problem than solution. “It was obvious that John had big reservations about Paul, too,” says Hague, who absorbed his friend’s harangues during their drinking binges. “Even then, there was great jealousy there. He was all too aware of Paul’s talent and wanted to be as good and grand himself. After a while, you could see it, plain as day: the subtle body language or remarks that flew between them. He wasn’t about to let someone like Paul McCartney pull his strings.”

The Beatles – Bob Spitz

Yesterday

Barrow describes an incident from 1965 where McCartney ran through a dress rehearsal of “Yesterday” for a live evening performance on Blackpool Night Out. “Beatles Book editor Johnny Dean sat in the stalls close to comperes Mike and Bernie Winters and the other three Beatles, and watched Paul in solitary rehearsal on the stage, singing the song to his own guitar accompaniment. At the end, everybody heard John’s loud and decidedly sarcastic comment.” The nasty remark from John was said to upset Paul for several hours afterwards.

Beatles publicist Tony Barrow

At the end, everybody heard John’s loud and decidedly sarcastic comment. He made no secret of the fact that he thought ‘Yesterday’ was a slice of sentimental rubbish, and this led to several heated exchanges between John and Paul in the privacy of the group’s dressing room after the rehearsal.

Tony Barrow, c/o The Best of the Beatles Book (ed. Johnny Dean). (2005)

Following Paul's rendition of 'Yesterday', a comedy link was rehearsed for when the others reappeared on stage: John clutched a plastic bouquet of flowers which came away as Paul accepted them, leaving him holding only the bottom stems. As if to further puncture any pompous formality, John announced "Thank you Ringo, that was wonderful." "The Beatles were in a terrific mood..." Sean O'Mahony wrote in his editorial (Beatles Book #26), "laughing and gagging their way through rehearsals as though they were preparing for a private Beatle People Telly Show for the fan club rather than a national networked performance to millions of viewers." However, he now remembers a charged atmosphere at Blackpool that day after Lennon sarcastically roared "Thank you, Paul, that was bloody crap!" following McCartney's debut of the song during the afternoon rehearsal. If there was any tension it was swiftly diffused as Bryce's photographs reveal the two relaxed and joking in each other's company. Paul and John rode back to London together in comfort that night in Lennon's new black Phantom V Rolls-Royce.

Looking Through You: The Beatles Book Monthly Photo Archive

Throughout the Beatles’ 1965 summer concert tour of North America, Paul avoided doing the number on stage, partly in order to avoid further unpleasant conflict with John [and partly because nobody would be able to hear it in open air stadiums full of screaming fans]. it was the danger of giving added strength to the ‘Paul is leaving’ rumour that helped to prevent ‘Yesterday’ from being released there and then as a single in the UK. As Paul knows, it could have been a smash hit at home as well as all over the world but it would have annoyed the rest of the group, and their hostility in such circumstances would have caused him a lot of personal grief which he didn’t need.

Tony Barrow, c/o The Best of the Beatles Book (ed. Johnny Dean). (2005)

"John came to my loft and he was all excited," Smith recalls. "He said, 'I think I finally wrote a song with as good a melody as Yesterday.' Yesterday drove him crazy. People'd say, 'Thank you for writing Yesterday, a beautiful song...' He was always civil, but it drove him nuts."Sat at Smith's piano, Lennon revealed a title - Imagine - but only a smattering of lyrics. For the rest he sang "scrambled eggs" - just as McCartney had when inspired to write Yesterday. "He played it through and asked me what I thought. 'It's beautiful.' 'But is it as good as Yesterday?' 'They're impossible to compare.' So he played it again. And again. And he said, 'You'll see, it's just as good as Yesterday."

Howard Smith (DJ), interview w/ Danny Eccleston for Mojo: The Lennon tapes. (July, 2013)

After a particularly heavy session with the lawyers (he was also fighting deportation) Lennon would flop into his music room, pick up a guitar and tear into a primal-scream version of ‘Yesterday’. Sometimes he tried a little writing of his own. Usually he just sank further into the one Beatles song he never quite got over. Friends would find him sitting in the dark, lost in Paul’s ballad.

Christopher Sandford, McCartney. (2005)

PAUL: [laughs; mock-indignant] No. The worst thing for John was, that he didn’t write ‘Yesterday’, I wrote ‘Yesterday’, and he used to get really quite miffed, because he’d be in New York and he’d go into a restaurant, and the pianist would go du-du-du… [sings tune of ‘Yesterday’] And he’d go, “Oh… [grumbling] It’s Paul’s.”

September 19th, 2019: On BBC Newsnight

“Once we were in a Mexican restaurant, in a back room. We’d just been to see the musical Lenny, about Lenny Bruce. In the main room John spotted this strolling guitar player, which used to be standard in Mexican restaurants. He turned to me and said, “Howard, in five minutes that guitar player is gonna come in, stand next to me and play Yesterday. And sure enough, it wasn’t even three minutes. We had hardly settled down, and the guy came in and played Yesterday, a ridiculous over-the-top version. And I said, ‘John, that really does happen to you everywhere…’ And he said: ‘Everywhere.’ It drove him nuts.”

2013 Mojo article

Well, it’s difficult to choose the favourite. It’s one of my favourites. You look at your songs and kinda look to see which of the ones you think are maybe the best constructed and stuff… I think ‘Yesterday’, if it wasn’t so successful, might be my favourite. But, you know, you get that thing when something is just so successful… people often don’t want to do ‘the big one’ that everyone wants them to do. They kind of shy away from it. So… ‘Here, There and Everywhere’ with ‘Yesterday’ as a close second.

Paul McCartney, interviewed by Scott Muni (16 October 1984).

Here are Paul and John sparring in the dressing room following the remark that John made while they were rehearsing for their Blackpool Night Out TV show in August '65. The sparring between John and Paul continued while they were getting ready for the final recording. John and Paul continue their heated discussion with George as piggy-in-the-middle. The two-handed gesture clearly reveals the mood John was in, but Ringo and Brian still refused to join in the argument. Ringo poured himself a fizzy drink before the final show but John clearly decided he needed something a bit stronger before they went into the television studio.

228 of The Beatles Book Monthly Magazine - John and Paul’s argument after the Blackpool Night Out rehearsal

We never released Yesterday' as a single because we didn't think it fitted our image. In fact it was one of our most successful songs. "Michelle' we didn't want to release as a single. They might have been perceived as Paul McCartney singles and maybe John wasn't too keen on that.

The Beatles Recording Sessions The Official Abbey Road Studio Session Notes, 1962–1970

Productivity

But I was still under the false impression that – still felt, every now and then – Brian would come up and say, “It’s time to record,” or, “It’s time to do this.” And Paul started doing that. “Now we’re gonna make a movie. Now we’re gonna make a record.” And, uh, he assumed that if he didn’t call us, nobody would ever make a record. But it’s since shown that we’ve managed quite well to make records on time. [Now] I don’t have any schedule – I just think, “Now, I’ll make it,” you know. But those days, Paul would say, well, now he felt like it, and suddenly I’d have to whip out twenty songs. He would come in with about twenty good songs and say, “We’ll record next Friday.” And I suddenly had to write a stack of songs, like – [Sgt] Pepper was like that. And Magical Mystery Tour was another one of them.

September 5th, 1971 (St Regis Hotel, New York)

SHEFF: You say you haven’t really listened to Paul’s work and haven’t really talked to him since that night in your apartment— JOHN: Really talked to him, no, that’s the operative word. I haven’t really talked to him in ten years. Because I haven’t spent time with him. I’ve been doing other things and so has he. You know, he’s got twenty-five kids and about twenty million records out—how can he spend time talking? He’s always working.

John Lennon, interview w/ David Sheff for Playboy. (September, 1980)

You’d already have 5 or 6 songs so I’d think fuck it, I cant keep up with that. So I didn’t bother, you know, and I thought I don’t really care whether I was on it or not, I convinced myself it didn’t matter. And so for a period if you didn’t invite me to be on an album personally, if you three didn’t say ‘write some more songs because we like your work’, I wasn’t going to fight. There was no point in turning em out, I didn’t have the energy to turn them out and get them on an album as well.

John Lennon, MMT sessions

“John did not let Yoko’s foot-dragging slow him down. He kept working on the album, refining songs and coming up with new ones. He joked that he was becoming more and more like Paul McCartney, whose prodigious musical output had sometimes been a source of friction in their relationship. John wondered if Yoko might be feeling intimidated by his current period of fertility, just as he had once been intimidated by Paul’s greater musical productivity. Still, John kept up the pressure on Yoko over the phone, playing her his songs and encouraging her to play hers for him.”

The Last Days of John Lennon by Frederic Seaman (1991)

“He next expressed concern that Yoko was not giving the album her undivided attention because of the many ‘distractions’ she faced in New York, and even made a snide reference to her being surrounded by ‘useless sycophants.’ He again likened their situation to his old songwriting partnership with Paul McCartney, who had always been the more prolific writer and had frequently prodded John to come up with new material. ‘Paul never stopped working,’ John said with grudging admiration. ‘We’d finish one album and I’d go off and get stoned and forget about writing new stuff, but he’d start working on new material right away, and as soon as he had enough songs he’d want to begin recording again. I would have to scramble to come up with songs of my own. I wrote some of my best songs under that kind of pressure.’”

The Last Days of John Lennon by Frederic Seaman (1991)

We only spoke briefly about Paul and his comments at the time were, 'Yeah, well, you know, that's just Paul.' I think John was deeply hurt by their differences and the fact that their partnership wasn't a partnership. He felt the competition with Paul who would come in with 15 songs and want to record them all. John told me, 'I don't want to be in, you know, "Paul & the Beatles". I don't want to be a sideman for Paul. It's not what I want to do anymore.'

David Cassidy on John from Could it be forever? -My Story

Fear of abandonment

I was sort of answering him here, asking, ‘Does it need to be this hurtful?’ I think this is a good line: ‘Are you afraid, or is it true?’ – meaning, ‘Why is this argument going on? Is it because you’re afraid of something? Are you afraid of the split-up? Are you afraid of my doing something without you? Are you afraid of the consequences of your actions?’ And the little rhyme, ‘Or is it true?’ Are all these hurtful allegations true? This song came out in that kind of mood. It could have been called ‘What the Fuck, Man?’ but I’m not sure we could have gotten away with that then.

Paul McCartney, on “Dear Friend”. In The Lyrics (2021).

JOHN: [Paul] even recorded that all by himself in the other room, that’s how it was getting in those days. We came in and he’d – he’d made the whole record. Him drumming, him playing the piano, him singing. Just because – it was getting to be where he wanted to do it like that, but he couldn’t – couldn’t – maybe he couldn’t make the break from The Beatles, I don’t know what it was. But you know, I enjoyed the track. But we’re all, I’m sure – I can’t speak for George, but I was always hurt when he’d knock something off without… involving us, you know? But that’s just the way it was then.

August, 1980: interview with Playboy writer David Sheff

He is the least independent Beatle, leaning upon the group’s strength as a source for his own fundamental security.

Profile of John written by Tony Barrow (Beatles Press Officer) and published in March of 1968.

During the spring of 1968, John was as confused, lonely, and unhappy as I'd seen him in years. Though his relationship with the other Beatles was still free of serious strain, he was seeing increasingly less of Paul and George, both of whom were now pursuing independent lives and interests of their own.

In My Life, Pete Shotton

Insecurities

If you notice, in the early days the majority of singles—in the movies and everything—were mine. And then only when I became self-conscious and inhibited, and maybe the astrology wasn’t right, did Paul start dominating the group a little too much for my liking. But in the early period, obviously, I’m dominating the group. I did practically every single with my voice except for “Love Me Do.” Either my song, or my voice, or both.

David Sheff - All We Are Saying, The Last Major Interview with John Lennon and Yoko Ono

Do I want him back, Paul? … [D]o I want it back, whatever it is, enough? Then if it is, you know, I’ve had to smother my ego for you, and I’ve had to smother me jealousy for you to carry on, for whatever reasons there is.

Jan. 13: The Lunchroom Tape

I’ll tell you a story about John. He often used to wake up in the middle of the night and ask me, ‘Why do people cover Paul’s songs so much, but never mine?’ I used to tell him, ‘It’s because you are a talented songwriter. You don’t just rhyme June with spoon. And you are a very good singer – lots of people would be too afraid to cover one of your songs.’ Then I would make him a cup of tea, and he would be okay. I just miss that sort of moment that we had.

Yoko Ono, Q Magazine Awards. (October 10th, 2005)

“[John] was much misunderstood but mostly through his own fault. He put up his brick wall of sheer bravado to screen off a chronic fear of inadequacy.”

Beatles publicist Tony Barrow

“Most people in Britain think I’m somebody who won the pools, you know,” he says drily, drawing on a Gauloise. “Won the pools and married a Hawaiian dancer or actress somewhere. Whereas in the States, we’re treated like artists. Which we are! Or anywhere else for that matter,” he added. “But here, it’s like, the lad who knew Paul, got a lucky break, won the pools and married the actress.”

John Lennon, Melody Maker’s Oct 2nd 1971 issue. (no wonder he was so upset by Too Many People if he internalized the concept of 'a lucky break' this much...)

It was Paul who showed John how to play chords properly, instead of banjo chords, which were all John knew. I think John was quite defensive when he realised that through much of his "career" with the Quarrymen, he had been playing two-fingered banjo chords on a guitar. The thought was tempered by the fact that nobody had noticed. John once told me, "Only that fookin' McCartney sussed me out. I love him, but he's such a good musician I could kill him."

Tony Bramwell, Magical Mystery Tours: My Life With The Beatles, 2005

INT: In this song, in the “I Found Out”, “I seen through junkies, I been through it all, I seen religion from Jesus to Paul.” Now a lot of people are wondering which Paul you were talking about? JOHN: (Chuckle) Whichever one you want to mention. I think the Beatles were a kind of religion. And that uh, Paul manifest or, sort of, I can’t think of the word you know — epitomized, the Beatles and the kind of things that–the kind of hero image more than the rest of us in a way. Like he was more popular with the kids, girls and things like that. So it’s in that way it’s Paul. But it’s also the other Paul, who screwed up whatever Jesus said, that one… It’s a double entendre you know, for all the fanatics who like to play things backwards and hear words of wisdom which nobody ever thought of…

WABC-FM New York, Howard Smith interviews John and Yoko (December 12, 1970).

JOHN: I expected… just a little more, you know. I mean, because if Paul and I are sort of disagreeing, and I feel weak, I think he must feel strong, you know. That’s in an argument. Uh, not that we’ve had much physical argument, you know – more a mental, like when we’re talking— But you would expect the opposition. So called. So I was just surprised, you know. And, uh, I was glad too. [laughs; hesitating] I thought, yeah, I – you know. I suddenly re– got it all in perspective, you know.

Rolling Stone December 8th, 1970

SCHOENBERGER: How is it for an 11-year-old boy to have John Lennon as a father? JOHN: It must be hell. SCHOENBERGER: Does he talk about that to you? JOHN: No, because he is a Beatle fan. I mean, what do you expect? I think he likes Paul better than me… I have the funny feeling he wishes Paul was his Dad. But unfortunately he got me…

John Lennon, interview w/ Francis Schoenberger. (Spring, 1975)

SHERIDAN: I guess he realised somewhere along the way, “Well, I’ve got to do something other than just be a rock ‘n’ roll musician if I want to impress the whole world.” He never saw himself as a very good singer, for instance. INTERVIEWER: Really? SHERIDAN: No. He never saw himself as comparable to Paul McCartney, even. Which, you know, he was playing with a guy, writing songs with a guy whom he thought was better than he was in many ways. So he had this immense ego and this immense sort of – it was like a motor in him that had to go to new lengths and reach new heights in order to impress someody or the whole world or whatever. I think the peace movement – maybe he invented it, I don’t know.

2003: Tony Sheridan

We all went through a depression after Maharishi and Brian died; it wasn’t really to do with Maharishi, it was just that period. I was really going through the “What’s it all about?” type thing – this songwriting is nothing, it’s pointless, and I’m no good, I’m not talented, and I’m shitty, and I couldn’t do anything but be a Beatle. What am I going to do about it? It lasted nearly two years and I was still in it during Pepper. I know Paul wasn’t at the time; he was feeling full of confidence, and I was going through murder during those periods. I was just about coming out of it around Maharishi, even though Brian had died – that knocked us back again. Well, it knocked me back.

John Lennon, interview w/ Barry Miles, (partially) unpublished. (September 23rd, 1969)

We’d be cutting a record and he’d say, “Yeah, I remember trying to do this part in ‘Penny Lane’. I couldn’t play it and I got so pissed because Paul could always learn things so fast.”

Andy Newmark (drummer), interview w/ Rick Mattingly for Modern Drummer. (February, 1984)

When John’s first solo album Plastic Ono Band was released I went down to Tittenhurst Park several times. Sometimes, in reaction to the general dismay over the Beatles’ break up, he would ask rhetorical, and I thought slightly absurd, questions such as “Why should I work with Paul McCartney when I can work with Yoko or Frank Zappa?”, or became irritated when I happened to say “Paul has a good voice”. “He has a high voice,” John snapped back. At others, however, he would admit to an admiration for some of Paul’s songs.

Ray Connolly (journalist), Evening Standard: John... ‘performing flea’ or ‘crutch for the world’s social lepers’. (December 10th, 1970) c/o Ray Connolly, The Beatles Archive. (2011)

“His [John] moods were particularly vacillating when he talked about Paul McCartney. While he might be scornful of Paul’s romantic musical streak on one day, on another he would be insisting, ‘Paul and me were the Beatles. We wrote the songs’ – putting down, by inference, the contributions of Ringo and George. He knew how good Paul was, but he couldn’t hide a rivalry and jealous streak that nibbled away at him. ‘Paul has a good voice,’ I once commented as we were discussing singers. ‘He has a high voice,’ came his instant correction.

Ray Connolly, The Sunday Times Magazine: John Lennon, Yoko and Me. (December 9, 2018)

I was wondering whether the relationship had kind of snapped. I believe it was always there. He was very jealous and so was I and it was all stupidity on the surface.”

Paul (Record Mirror, April 1982).

Paul was the one Beatle who posed any challenge to John’s authority and preeminence within the group. Much as John might have found it easier to handle those who—like George and Ringo—seemed to take it for granted that he was the king of the castle, Paul was the only one he considered more or less his equal. John particularly admired and respected—yet at the same time slightly resented—Paul’s independence, his self-discipline, and his all-round musical facility: all qualities in which John felt relatively lacking.

Pete Shotton, John Lennon: In My Life. (1983)

He grew even more paranoid as the acid took effect, and Derek Taylor ended up sitting by him till well after daybreak. In an attempt to rebuild John's shattered ego, he persuaded him to recount his entire life story, from early childhood onwards. Derek even went through every Lennon-McCartney song, line by line, to demonstrate to John the extraordinary scope of his contribution to the Beatles* music. By the time John and I finally left, John's spirits had been lifted considerably.

In My Life, Pete Shotton

“Bit by bit over a two-year period, I had destroyed me ego. I didn’t believe I could do anything. I just was nothing. I was shit… and she (Yoko) made me realize that I was me and that it’s all right. That was it; I started fighting again, being a loudmouth again and saying, “I can do this. Fuck it. This is what I want,” you know. “I want it, and don’t put me down.”

Rolling Stone

"John's complaint to Paul was actually an attempt to get his songs on to albums without the usual democratic vetting by the others, as the conversation between John and Paul recorded by Anthony Fawcett in September 1969 reveals. John tells Paul: If you look back on the Beatles' albums, good or bad or whatever you think of "em, you'll find that most times if anybody has got extra time it's you! For no other reason than you worked it like that. Now when we get into a studio I don't want to go through games with you to get space on the album, you know. I don't want to go through a little manoeuvering or whatever level it's on. I gave up fighting for an Aside or fighting for time. I just thought, well, I'm content to put 'Walrus" on the "B" side when I think it's much better ... I didn't have the energy or the nervous type of thing to push it, you know. So I relaxed a bit nobody else relaxed, you didn't relax in that way. So gradually I was submerging. Paul protested that he had tried to allow space on albums for John's songs, only to find that John hadn't written any. John explained, "There was no point in turning 'em out. I couldn't, didn't have the energy to turn 'em out and get 'em on as well." He then told Paul how he wanted it to be in the future: "When we get in the studio I don't care how we do it but I don't want to think about equal time. I just want it known I'm allowed to put four songs on the album, whatever happens."

Many Years from Now

Everyone settled down in their seats. Paul McCartney tried to make peace with Chris. Chris said, “Paul sat by me and said, ‘Come on, Chris, let’s be friends….’ “I said, ‘Paul, just get away from me, I don’t want nothing to do with you guys. You know, you pissed me off!” As for Lennon, Chris recalled, “John? I guess he was a wise guy. But I got the sense that, I shouldn’t say this, that he was jealous of who I was or what I did. I don’t know what his problem was, but I didn’t like it too much.”

THE TRUTH BEHIND THE BRAWL BETWEEN JOHN LENNON AND CHRIS MONTEZ IN 1963! EXCLUSIVE!

Lifestyle

I introduced Yoko to John through my own interest in the avant-garde. John wasn’t avant-garde till later. Then John became wildly avant-garde because he was so fucking constricted living out in Weybridge. He’d come into London and say, ‘What’ve you been doing, man, what have you been doing?’ and I’d say, ‘What’ve you been doing?’ ‘Well, watching telly, smoking pot.’ ‘I went out last night and saw Luciano Berio at the Italian Embassy, that was quite cool. I’ve got this new Stockhausen record, check this out. We went down Robert [Fraser]’s, got this sculpture, it was great, dig this. Wow, Paolozzi, great …’ I think John actually said, ‘I’m fucking jealous of you, man’ – he just needed to get out of Weybridge. It wasn’t his wife’s fault, she just didn’t understand how free he needed to be.

Paul McCartney, c/o Jonathon Green, Days in the Life. (1988)

Living in the Asher house gave me the base and the freedom and the independence. That, alongside all the other things, because I wasn’t married to Jane. I was pretty free. I remember John very much envying me. He said, ‘Well, if you go out with another girl, what does Jane think?’ and I said, 'Well, I don’t care what she thinks, we’re not married. We’ve got a perfectly sensible relationship.’ He was well jealous of that, because at this time he couldn’t do that, he was married with Cynthia and with a lot of energy bursting to get out. He’d tried to give Cynthia the traditional thing, but you kind of knew he couldn’t. There were cracks appearing but he could only paste them over by staying at home and getting very wrecked.

Paul McCartney, Many Years from Now

In the beginning, art was what we talked about. [John] told me he thought he was like [surrealist painter René] Magritte. Why? Because, you know, you have the image of Magritte with the bowler hat and the suit, looking very square, but really his work was very surreal and far out. John was living in suburbia, and he was very embarrassed about that, because he felt as if he was not very hip. When he invited me to his house the first time, the first thing he said when I got there was, “I think of myself as Magritte.”

Yoko Ono, New York Times: An exhibition of drawings celebrates Lennon at 64. (October 7th, 2004)

“I was never in the London scene in the 60’s whereas George and Paul be going around to everybody’s sessions, playing with everybody. I never played anywhere without the Beatles. I never jammed around with people at all. Q: Loyalty, or just didn’t interest you? A: No, just shyness, insecurity, and ah, I couldn’t go in a session and play like George plays; you know I have limited vocabulary on the guitar and piano, so what could I do going in with Cream, or whatever they were doing in those days.”

John Lennon interview

The musician countered the perception of Lennon as the only artistic Beatle, asserting his own powerful avant-garde influence on Sgt. Pepper. “I’m not trying to say it was all me, but I do think John’s avant-garde period later was really to give himself a go at what he’d seen me having a go at.”

Paul Du Noyer, The Paul McCartney World Tour Booklet: 1989–1990 (New York: EMAP Metro, 1989)

Women

“Have you noticed that it’s always men with moustaches and beards who ask me for my autograph?” I said I hadn’t but that I’d watch out in future and, sure enough, it seemed he was right. Only men with moustaches and beards asked John for his autograph. “It was always the same,” he said. “Me and George got the guys with beards wanting to know the meaning of life, while Paul and Ringo got the women!” Inevitably, perhaps, a short while later a girl came to ask John for his autograph. Much to our amusement, though doubtless to her amazement, John grabbed her around the waist and sat her down on his knee. “Where are you now McCartney?” he shouted. “I’ve got a girl at last.””

Chris Charlesworth (journalist), Rock’s Backpages: Memories of John Lennon. (2001)

“I idolized John. He was the big guy in the chip shop. I was the little guy. As I matured and grew up, I started sharing in things with him. I got up to his level. I wrote songs as he did and sometimes they were as good as his. We grew to be equals. It made him insecure. He always was, really. He was insecure with women. You know, he told me when he first met Yoko not to make a play for her.

Paul and Hunter Davies, 1981

In the mirror I looked dreadfully pale and drawn. I still couldn’t believe it. John would never be there again. I kept getting flashbacks to when he was young and awkward. He liked women, but was always a bit uncomfortable, a bit nervous in their company – always a man’s man. Paul was beautiful – still is – and I know John thought, ‘God, with him around, I don’t stand a chance.’ It’s one of those things young lads have to put up with. They’re all dead worried about whether or not they’re going to get the girls, and John, as a teenager, saw Paul as his rival. That made him moody, but it was his moodiness that gave the songs they wrote together an edge. When he was four, John had been abandoned by his dad, deserted by his mum and brought up by his Auntie Mimi. He’d always felt rejected, but that gave his writing depth, a darkness. Paul was the counterbalance, the light. You could see this in Paul’s eyes and the girls just tumbled in and were washed away. What John never really appreciated was that he, too, had charisma, and that women did think he was sexy.

Cilla Black, What’s It All About. (2003)

SALEWICZ: Oh, he was presumably very paranoid. PAUL: I think so. I mean, he warned me off Yoko once. You know, “Look, this is my chick!” ’Cause he knew my reputation. I mean, we knew each other rather well. And um, I felt… I just said, “Yeah, no problem.” But I did sort of feel he ought to have known I wouldn’t, but. You know, he was going through “I’m just a jealous guy”. He was a paranoid guy. And he was into drugs. Heavy.

Paul, September, 1986 (MPL Communications, London)

That’s typical Paul [wanting me to stay inside the George V Hotel with the band instead of going out by myself to see Paris]. It’s just so silly of me to stay at the hotel. It’s just that he’s so insecure. For instance, he keeps saying he’s not interested in the future, but he must be because he says it so often. The trouble is, he wants the fans’ adulation and mine too. He’s so selfish, it’s his biggest fault. He can’t see that my feelings for him are real and that the fans’ are fantasy. Of course, it’s the trouble with all boys. When I first met [the Beatles], I liked them all. Then, when I found out that I liked Paul more, the others became angry with me.

Jane Asher, c/o Michael Braun, Love Me Do!: The Beatles’ Progress. (1964)

"Q: "Now that Paul is the only bachelor Beatle, do you find that the girls gravitate more to him than they do to the rest of you fellas? How do you feel about that?" JOHN: "They always did!" RINGO: "Yeah." PAUL: "Well, the thing that we found... We found after all this business, of all the buttons that say 'I love Ringo,' "I love John,' John's were outselling everyone's." JOHN: "A rather distinctive Beatle." PAUL: "A distinctive Beatle.""

Press conference, New York, August 22, 1966

JOHN: Well, uh… [distracted] There was a lot of – [inaudible] I suppose, but I was so full of myself then, I didn’t give a shit what he did. HILBURN: Full of what? JOHN: Full of meself. Centered, in other words. So I just— HILBURN: So in a sense, you weren’t comparing as much as you might have— JOHN: [matter-of-fact] There’s no comparison for me. ‘Cause we’re— HILBURN: You mean comparing artistically, or you mean comparing sales-wise and stuff? JOHN: Oh, sales-wise, forget it. He always had more fans than me, in the Cavern… So there’s no comparison on that level. And on the other level, I don’t think it counts. I think it’s like comparing… I don’t know, Magritte and, er – Picasso, if you want to put it on that level. Or whatever. How can you compare it?

October 10th, 1980 (Hit Factory, New York)

The same popularity, meaning Paul was always more popular than the rest of us, was going down in the dance halls in Liverpool so it didn’t cause any big surprise. I mean the kids saw him, the girls would go ooh, you know, right away.

John Lennon on The Tomorrow Show – 04/08/1975

Breakup/post breakup

"There was amazing competition between us and we both thrived on it. In terms of music, you cannot beat a bit of competition. Of course, there's times when it hurts, and it's inevitably going to reach a stage where it's hard to live with. Sooner or later, it's going to burn itself out. I think that's what happened at the end of The Beatles.

Paul - Uncut, July 2004

I felt sad, you know. I also felt that film was set up by Paul, for Paul. That’s one of the main reasons the Beatles ended, you know, cause... I can’t speak for George but I pretty damn well know. We got fed up with being sidemen for Paul, after Brian died that’s what began to happen and the camera work was set up to show Paul and not to show anybody else and that’s how I felt about it. And on top of that, the people who cut it, cut it as Paul is god and we’re just lying around.

John Lennon: The Rolling Stone Interview, Part One

Though thinking of Paul caused John pain, he could never get McCartney out of his head; Paul’s music was everywhere, and it always made him jealous, even the songs he enjoyed. In Bermuda, John was listening to all kinds of things on the radio, not just the Muzak and classical he listened to in New York. Coming Up, Paul’s hit single from McCartney II, was unavoidable. Every time he tuned in the BBC or one of the local stations, there it was. It began to drive John crackers; every word of the song was addressed directly to him. Ultimately, he came to admire it and draw inspiration from it.”

Robert Rosen, Nowhere Man: The Final Days of John Lennon, (2000)

At that moment, John was at his most unpredictable. Suddenly his fears that his money was going to be taken away from him, that he was going to be cheated, that he had to have as much money as possible, had all come into play. This was also John’s way of resisting the reality that the Beatles were officially about to come to end, and that Paul was about to prevail.

Loving John, MAY PANG (1983)

“The funny part is that I let him get away with it for so long. You know, I used to dread it when he was in town, but I never had the sense to go out to the island or just not answer the door. He’d come striding in with a guitar under one arm and Linda under the other, asking me what was new, knowing nothing was new. Then he’d always ask if I’d heard his latest, which I usually hadn’t. The guitar was so we could sing together, but that was never going to happen. I’d just tell him that I was really busy being a father. He must have seen through that because he’s a father many times over and that certainly doesn’t tie him down. It wasn’t till I told him that I was real busy that if he wanted to see me he’d have to call first that he got the message to leave off. I have your tarot advice to thank for that.”

John Green, Dakota Days. (1983)

COSTAS: if somebody didn’t, mixed in with it all, genuinely love somebody, genuinely care about their feelings about them, they wouldn’t go to the lengths, in whatever strange way, that John did to lash back at you! They wouldn’t hold a pig on the cover to parody you holding a sheep in ‘RAM’! They wouldn’t, you know, call your stuff rubbish and write ‘How Do You Sleep’. They wouldn’t do it! PAUL: Oh, I think that’s right. I think that’s right. He was- he was very hurt, there were people turning him against me. It was his way of defending himself. He was- he was quite pissed off about the ‘McCartney bandwagon’ as he once called it, you know? [mimicking John] ‘Oh, bloody- he’s gettin’ on all the telly, he’s sellin’ records!’ Yeah, he was- he was a jealous guy! But I understood that! That was John! You love it or you leave it! And I stuck with it for many, many years!

Paul McCartney, Interviewed by Bob Costa, 1991.

It was a weird time. The people who were managing us were whispering in our ears and trying to turn us against each other and it became like a feuding family. In the end, I think John had some tough breaks. He used to say, ‘Everyone is on the McCartney bandwagon.’ He wrote ‘I’m Just A Jealous Guy’ and he said that the song was about me. So I think it was just some kind of jealousy. I had to try and forgive John because I sort of knew where he was coming from. I knew that he was trying to get rid of the Beatles in order to say to Yoko, ‘Look, I’ve even given that up for you. I’m ready to devote myself to you and to the avant-garde.’ I don’t know if it’s true. One thing I’m really glad about is that I didn’t answer him back. It’s very difficult to do that when someone is attacking you. But I would have felt sick as a dog now if I had.

Paul McCartney, interview w/ Diane de Dubovay for Playgirl. (February, 1985)

PAUL: He was into heroin, and – see, which I hadn’t realised [the extent of] till just now. It’s all [starting to click a bit] in my brain. I was just figuring, oh, there’s John, my buddy, and he’s turning on me, ’cause he perceives that I’m... “McCartney bandwagon,” he once said to me. “Oh, they’re all on the McCartney bandwagon.” And to me, I was just releasing a record, okay. So you can call it the McCartney bandwagon, but it’s no harm. It’s no more than anyone else does when they put out a record. And yet things like that were hurting him, and looking back on it now I just think that it’s a bit sad really.

September, 1986 (MPL Communications, London)

Lennon’s jealousy of McCartney continued throughout the rest of his life. Lennon’s staff at the Dakota, where he spent his final years, attest to frequent tirades about his former partner. In his personal journals, Lennon wrote about Paul “almost every day” according to author Robert Rosen, who read the diaries in 1981 after they were stolen by Dakota employee Fred Seaman. When asked, in 2010, about the most disturbing takeaway of the diaries, Rosen replied “That’s easy. His jealousy of Paul, his love of money and his obsession with the occult.”

Robert Rosen

RR: Obviously I knew about the rivalry with McCartney, and the jealousy, but I think the extent of it...how often he thought about McCartney, and how jealous he was...I found that pretty shocking. I found it shocking that he was so into money. And the emphasis that was put on the occult was pretty shocking. The extent that they got into it.

An Interview with Robert Rosen

On one McCartney photo, Lennon scribbled the words, “I’m always perfect” as coming from McCartney’s mouth. He drew a Hitler-style moustache on another photo of McCartney. In an entry noting McCartney’s marriage to Linda Eastman, Lennon crossed out “wedding” and wrote “funeral”, the Observer said. But in a final tender moment, the Observer said, Lennon wrote under a photo of himself with McCartney: “The minutes are crumbling away.”

Associated Press: Lennon’s resentment of McCartney reflected in book notes. (July 20th, 1986)

So we went through a lot of those problems. But the nice thing was afterwards each one of them in turn very, very quietly and very briefly said, ‘Oh, thanks for that.’ That was about all I ever heard about it. But again, John turned it round. He said, ‘But you’re always right, aren’t you?’ See, there was always this thing. I mean, it seemed crazy for me because I thought the idea was to try and get it right, you know. It was quite surprising to find that if you did get it right, people could then turn that one around and say: ‘But you’re always right aren’t you?’ It’s like moving the goal posts.

Paul McCartney: An Innocent Man? (October, 1986)

So, here we sit, watching the mighty Dylan and the mighty McCartney and the mighty Jagger slide down the mountain, blood and mud in their nails. Well, that’s the way the world is, ha ha ha, that’s the way the world is, oh yes. The difference between now and a couple of years back is that whenever there was a new thing out by any of the aforesaid, I used to feel a sense of panic and competition. And now, I just feel like even the last few months it’s changed. I would send out for their albums or something just to hear it. There doesn’t seem any point now. Let’s take a break. How do we break? Just put it off. Still, even now, talking about them or thinking about them is still really being involved in it, because the ultimate dissociation would be not even to know they had an album out! [laughs] But now at least I get pleasure in it instead of panic. The main pleasure being of course that it’s all a load of shit. So I suppose I’ll always feel competitive with them, because they were from that same generation, but when I hear something like “Pop Muzik” by Robin Scott or the Blondie single, I really enjoy it, you know. I don’t feel competitive about it.

Lennon audio diaries

“They [Lennon & McCartney] saw each other again in 1977. The Lennons and McCartneys ate dinner together at Le Cirque, Paul’s favourite French restaurant in New York. John regretted going; it was a loathsome night. Paul and Linda blathered on and on about how perfect their lives were, how they had everything they’d ever wanted, and how they were as happy as they’d ever been. Something very paranoid suddenly occurred to John. Maybe Lorraine Boyle was spying on him for the McCartneys! He woke up the next morning still feeling disturbed; he consulted the Oracle. Swan assured him that Paul and Linda were frustrated and unsatisfied. Their marriage was in trouble, he said, predicting it would break up within the year. Lately Swan’s visions had been astonishingly accurate. Relieved, John began composing a song—a little ditty, really, that would never be released—in praise of the Oracle’s powers. But he still couldn’t understand why Paul and Linda had been together for as long as they had. There appeared to be a psychic connection between John and Paul. Every time McCartney was in town, John would hear Paul’s music in his head.”

Robert Rosen, Nowhere Man: The Final Days of John Lennon, (2000)

We agreed that if the press got hold of this record we’d pull the plug on it. I’d tell the musicians that John wasn’t sure if he could do it. He was very, very insecure. He didn’t think he had it anymore, you know. He thought he was too old, he just couldn’t write, he couldn’t sing, he couldn’t play, nothing. It took a while.

Jack Douglas on working with John Lennon on Double Fantasy.

“Yoko was an extremist and was even more intense than John taking any idea or comment of his to the limit. If, for example, he complained about any of his fellow Beatles she would hint that that Beatle had always been an enemy implying that John should never deal with that person again. Her extreme positions fascinated John and help him take his mind off himself but when she became self-involved and paranoid herself -her paranoia usually dealt with her career, her fame and the fact that even though she had always been famous everyone conspired to keep her from getting even more famous- he had no place to turn. His insecurity about his solo career, his childhood, his relationships with the other Beatles, the way the public perceived Yoko overwhelmed him and he became more and more involved with drugs.”

May Pang, Loving John (1984)

Klein, on his first meeting with John: “I thought John was losing confidence in himself, and I really didn’t know who had written exactly what, so I couldn’t give John the encouragement he needed. If Paul was really the main factor in the making of records — I mean, if things were really going to fall apart without him — I needed to know that and be able to deal with it. It turned out, of course, that John had written most of the stuff. He’d forgotten a lot of what he’d contributed … John wrote … 60 or 70 percent of Eleanor Rigby. He just didn’t remember till I sat down and had him sort through it all … Everybody thought McCartney was the genius songwriter who did it all by himself and it wasn’t true.”

Allen Klein, Playboy: A candid conversation with the embattled manager of the Beatles. (November, 1971)

Few people disagreed, however, that McCartney always cared deeply about Lennon’s opinion of him. He was still insecure enough on this point to invite Andy Peebles, the Radio 1 DJ who interviewed John the weekend before his death, to join him early on the morning of 10 December. Peebles went to AIR, where he found Paul both ‘deeply shocked [and] obsessed about what John and Yoko had said about him.’ An irony not lost on Peebles, among others, was that Lennon himself had repeatedly tried to find out what Paul had thought of Double Fantasy. “For public consumption,” says another of his final interviewers, “John seemed not to care. The fact that he mentioned McCartney’s name on average ten times an hour suggests otherwise … The strong feeling was that Paul and Yoko were the only two people in the world whose approval he gave a toss for.” Time passed. Paul locked the door of his home studio and played (Just Like) Starting Over, the first single from Double Fantasy. Top volume. For days.

Christopher Sandford, McCartney. (2005)

He became so jealous in the end. You know he wouldn’t let me even touch his baby. He got really crazy with jealousy at times.

Paul McCartney, “off the record” conversation with Hunter Davies. (May 3rd, 1981)

“If you do two LPs there might be a little change!” John laughs. “But until then I don’t mind. When she wants the A side, that’s when we start fighting.

John Lennon, interview w/ Jonathan Cott for Rolling Stone: Yoko Ono and her sixteen-track voice. (March 18th, 1971)

John as a solo artist didn’t sell a lot of albums compared to Paul McCartney. That bothered him. So did the adulation that Paul received when he’d go out on the road, which was all rightfully deserved, in my opinion. 

Friends, Forever: Elliot Mintz On His Decade With John And Yoko

Paul's competitiveness

“My role in [Tug of War] was to goad Paul a bit. I think when he and John Lennon split up, he missed John’s goading enormously. It’s almost like they collaborated by means of competition. John would often say cruel things to Paul and Paul would come back and say, ‘I’ll show him what I can do,’ and Paul could be equally cruel to John and then John would come up with something. Despite the love they had for each other, they would still egg each other on in a funny kind of way. I think Paul missed that spur.”

George Martin, interview w/ Paul Grein for Billboard: Martin/McCartney ‘Tug’ team scores. (February 2nd, 1983)

SMITH: Were you closer to any one of them than the others? GEORGE M.: Not really – certainly not in those days, no. Gradually, as things changed, then they went into their little spheres and they became much more – the rivalry between John and Paul became much more marked. So they were never great cooperators. They were never great – they were never Rodgers and Hart. They never collaborated in the sense of sitting down to write a song together. One would have the idea for a song, and take the other guy and say, “Look, I need your help here on this line, can you give it to me?” And that was the way they collaborated. And generally speaking their songs were pitched against each other, [in the sense of] “Well, you’ve written that, hey, listen to mine,” so it was a competitive collaboration. And it was valuable nonetheless, because – in fact Paul misses it terribly now. He misses that spark of John being rude to him and saying, “You can’t write that, Paul, that’s awful,” you know. He needs that. And only John could say that most effectively.

October 22nd, 1986: George Martin

"Paul McCartney was the most competitive person I've ever met. John [Lennon] wasn't competitive. He just thought everyone else was s-h-*-t."

Ray Davies

TV GUIDE: At the time of Wings, how competitive were you with your former Beatles band mates? PAUL: Really competitive. I don’t think any of us would have ever admitted it. I know we would listen to what each other was doing and [think], “Oh, my God, that’s good.” I know for a fact John did once with [my] song ‘Coming Up’. It was on a documentary, I think, about John, where his recording manager at the time said John listened to it and went, “Oh, I’ll have to go back to work.” I found that a very nice fact that I egged John into doing something.

Paul McCartney, interview w/ Lisa Bernhard and Steven Reddicliffe for TV Guide: Listen to what the man says. (May 1st, 2001)

[nekohime19]

Mini Mac #4 : Lil guy vs storm

Chapter 4 here we go, my finals are almost ending so I have more time now. Mac doesn't do well in storms, luckily he has a local Monkey King ready to make him feel better.

Sun Wukong was by nature a monkey of summer. His undercoat was thin, almost nonexistent, made for heated weather. He was also fond of the sun, not because of some sort of narcissistic tendency, but because he loved to nap in warmed grass. As such, he always thought of the other seasons as the lesser ones, he didn't loathe them per see, but he thought nothing of them. Now though, he was beginning to hate winter, not because of the cold or the shortened days, but because he hadn't seen his lil roommate since winter began.

Macaque was a closeted person, he didn't reveal much about himself, more than once he prefered tricking the sage over engaging in any sort of conversation with him. But still, he at least ate the fruits Sun Wukong left behind for him. Now though, since the beginning of winter, the fruits were left untouched no matter the kind, and no matter where the sage put them. It was as if the lil guy wasn't even leaving the walls of the mansion anymore. Sun Wukong wondered, for a second, if he was in hibernation. He hadn't heard of any sort of monkey needing hibernation, but the world was vast and Macaque was the first of his kind he ever saw. He did know of the existence of little people, the fae-people were reputed to be particularly small, but he never heard of a monkey, specifically, being this small. And he usually knew a lot about monkeys.

The sage was staring at one of his mansion's wall, wondering if Macaque would forgive him if he tore it down. He knew it was dramatic, and that he shouldn't be this worried, but still he couldn't help it. He hated being powerless in the face of his own worry. Sun Wukong sighed and picked up the plum pieces he cut for the lil guy yesterday, they were left untouched. Plums were supposed to be Macaque's favorites, his lil ears always fluttered in joy when he ate a plum, it was disheartening to see the fruit uneated. The sage softly knocked on the wall, trying to reach the black-furred macaque, but like always he was left unanswered. Sun Wukong's gaze fell on the wooden cabinet put beside his wooden bench in one corner of the living room. He knew one of Macaque’s holes, or gates as he called them, was inside the cabinet. They were always in the most shadowed corner of the house, behind furniture or inside a cupboard. The sage had been quite impressed when he discovered such a delicate network of gates inside his own mansion. Of course, Sun Wukong wasn't aware of all the gates inside of his mansion, but he managed to discover a good portion. He was at least partially sure that he knew of all the gates on the first floor.

Sun Wukong bit his lips, some part of him wanted to shrink and slip inside of the wall to search for Macaque, but another part of him frowned in disgust at the idea, not wanting to invade his lil roommate's privacy. He didn't want to ignore Macaque's boundaries, but at the same time he wanted to make sure the other was fine. The sage left after a few minutes of lingering, heart heavy inside of his chest.

He ultimately decided that he would go inside of the walls if he had no sign of life after another week.

He finally saw Macaque four days after, in the dead of the night, during the beginning of a particularly brewing storm. Sun Wukong was in the living room, coddled against his troop as they waited for the storm to end. They created a large nest with all the soft fabrics (not eaten by time) they managed to find. The living room was the largest room of the mansion, mainly because it merged with the adjoining kitchen (there was no wall between both rooms, creating a very vast space). Sun Wukong lifted his head and narrowed his eyes at the kitchen, something was in there. He decided to leave the nest once he saw the very familiar outline of a shadowed body. He passed by the stone table put between the living room and the kitchen and approached the lil guy rummaging through his cupboards.

Of course, it was Macaque. The lil guy wasn't dressed in his usual leaves, instead he was wrapped in a thick reddish fabric, something the sage recognized after a few seconds, it was a piece of the curtain hanging in the east wing of the mansion. He was cutting pieces out of some lingering plums with his claws, and putting them inside of his leaf bag.

Usually Macaque instantly knew when he was approaching, this time though the black-furred monkey didn't even flinch when the sage stepped in the kitchen. Sun Wukong furrowed his eyebrows, confused by the macaque's odd behavior.

“You're okay there lil bud?” Asked Sun Wukong, as quietly as he could to not startle the lil guy and awaken his slumbering troop. Macaque flinched and stilled for a few seconds, he turned towards him with something akin to shame swirling in his eyes. He looked rough, to say the least. His fur was a mess and there was a lingering red in the corners of his eyes.

“Yeah, just hungry.” Mumbled Macaque, he threw a worried glance at one of the nearby windows and fastened his bag, ready to leave. Sun Wukong opened his mouth, ready to hold him back and ask what was wrong but he was cut by the reasoning sound of thunder. The bolt pierced the blackened clouds, bleeding out in the dark night like an infected wound. Sun Wukong watched, stilled, as Macaque whimpered and curled on himself, burying his head in his paws.

“A-are you okay?” This was a stupid question, of course the macaque wasn't okay, he was whimpering. The sage looked around not knowing what to do, for all the tricks and magic he learned under his former master, he never bothered to learn something as inconsequential as healing magic. He greatly regretted that choice now.

The thunder was still exploding in the confine of the sky, Sun Wukong wondered if he could go out and fight it, maybe beating up the god in charge of storms would appease the sky and resolve the situation. He had half the mind to realize this wasn’t a very good idea and, in a spur of impulsivity, scooped up the lil guy and ran towards the west wing. If he remembered correctly, the west wing was the area with the thickest walls in the mansion, he hoped it could muffle the howls of thunder somehow. Macaque was almost weightless inside of his palms, the sage was afraid to break him if he put too much pressure on him.

He barged in the west wing and rushed towards the bed. He passed by the finely carved mahogany tables and carefully put the macaque in the middle of the bed. He grabbed nearby pillows and blankets and arranged them around the lil guy, creating some sort of tangled nest to comfort him. Macaque buried his snout in the blankets, almost slipping under it. Sun Wukong yielded to his instincts after a few minutes and climbed on the bed, curling around the nest protectively. He learned that, as the Monkey King, monkeys tended to feel safe around him, especially when he was curled around them.

Try as he might, the great sage wasn't able to close his eyes the whole night. Some part of him wanted to keep watching Macaque and make sure he was alright, another worried he could roll around in his sleep and accidently crush the lil guy. He never dared touch the black-furred monkey, worried about his boundaries, but cooed and chirped anytime the other whimpered in distress. Eventually, the storm died down and Macaque uncurled, he slowly blinked, eyes glazed over with a veil of tears and looked around him. His eyes widened when they fell upon the sage.

“Hey, you're feeling better?” Asked the King, as softly as he could to not hurt the other sensitive ears.

“Yeah… hm…thanks.” Mumbled the macaque, the tip of his ears reddening in embarrassment.

“Is this why you don't come out in winter? Because of the storms?”

“Maybe… also they're too many people in the house during winter.”

“So why did you come out last night?” Questioned the King, one eyebrow raised.

“I didn't have any plums left and it's…plums are comforting.” Whispered the macaque. “Whatever, I should go.”

“Wait !” Sun Wukong didn't really have anything to say, but he would hate to see the other go this soon. He racked his mind in search of something to say. “You know, if you need help, you can ask me or something. Either for storms, or other things. W-we're neighbors aren't we? Or roommates or something… Point is, I can help you. If you want.”

Macaque looked at him, gaze unreadable, before turning away with furrowed eyebrows, as if he had troubles believing the sage's words.

“I'll… keep it in mind.” Muttered the black-furred monkey before disappearing in a flurry of shadows.

The sage was particularly happy when he found out, later that day, a peach with a hydrangea petal on top of it in the middle of his living room. He was certain those were gifts from the macaque, they had hints of his smell on them after all.

Sun Wukong decided right then that it was the best peach he ever had, more delicious than the immortal ones.

++ idk why making memes for this Au is so funny, it's just is

Mac disappearing the whole winter without warnings :

Ch1 / Previous / Next

[etraytin]

Postcards From the Dusty Mountains

Took the kiddo out yesterday with me when I went a-volunteering because he is getting very tired of not having anything to do. You know it's getting bad when a guy misses school and is tired of being on his computer all day. I'm not being sarcastic either, I'm deeply sympathetic to his plight and I wish he could get back to school and the friends he was making and the brand-new boyfriend he's been taking those first cautious romantic steps with. He already had to live through COVID homeschooling for two years, and now this. Ugh. I have heard rumors that they are hoping to open the schools back up on October 21, which means two more weeks closed, but it could be worse. So many places still don't even have power, much less water.

Anyway, I took him with me and we went down to a food distribution in Swannanoa. They got hit very very hard, and we spent a couple hours helping a Chick-Fil-A volunteer team from Atlanta hand out hot chicken sandwiches and bottled water. In normal days I don't have much to do with Chick-Fil-A because I don't like their politics, but when the matter at hand is giving hot food to people who've lost their homes, you put the politics aside. I just wish the rest of the country was able to do the same, because I am extraordinarily tired of people thinking of North Carolina as a "battleground state" when the battle we are fighting right now is to keep people alive as the weather starts to turn cold and the water lines stay broken.

Today was busy because I actually managed to keep a doctor's appointment I have been waiting a month for, which was quite a pleasant surprise! The doctor's office is in Hendersonville, so the fact that they were open for business and that I was able to get there are both things that I might have doubted a week ago. I also had an appointment with a local HVAC outfit about getting a whole-house standby generator installed so that next time we have a power outage, we can at least power the fridges, the well pump, the dehumidifiers and my CPAP, with maybe some left over for laptop charging. The price he quoted me for everything except the propane tank and line was $11,000, which was not exactly unexpected but still a big ol' yikes. The good news is, his company bought several of the right size generators before the storm so they would have an inventory, so I could theoretically have a generator before winter really sets in. Highly tempting.

In the afternoon, kiddo and I went out to do more helping. If nothing else has become more apparent over this week, it's that we were and continue to be so, so lucky. Of all the teachers at my husband's school, we are the _only_ family who are still in our own home with all our utilities back up. We are the only members of our extended family in the area who have power. We are part of a tiny fraction of households in the region who have potable water coming from our taps. Given all of that, we decided that we were going to take my final paycheck from canvassing and put it into a community that was not lucky at all. Our Lowes got restocked big time this week, so I was able to go in and get a propane tank, a gas can, a huge box of contractor bags, a straight rake, a shovel, and a gas-powered chainsaw with two cans of fuel for it. We also raided our own house and took our own three shovels and straight rake, our garden cart, some very cute hiking boots I bought but hadn't worn yet, eight packs of bath wipes and two of our cell phone power banks and drove the whole thing down to Black Mountain.

Black Mountain is very close to Swannanoa and was also hit extremely hard by the storm. We didn't go around touristing, but even on the main roads we took we could see devastation everywhere. Everywhere the water touched was drenched in toxic mud, which has dried over the past two weeks into an awful choking dust that covers everything. It blows on the wind and rises with every passing car. As we drove I took the opportunity to explain how the search and rescue paint marking system works to Kiddo, because their bright green graffiti was on all the half-destroyed houses we were passing.

There's an outdoor music venue in Black Mountain called Silverados that has been turned into a massive distribution center. Hot meals were being passed out in the front, while the rear was a busy hive of organizing and distributing supplies. We went there and dropped off all our items, where they were carted away into an absolutely teeming hub of supplies and volunteers. We asked if they needed any more help today, but they definitely had enough willing hands. I think my dad will laugh because I finally did get the chainsaw he talked me out of, but then gave it away before it even left the box.

With a little time on our hands, we went back up north and visited our favorite grocery store, the one that sells lightly-expired canned and boxed food at greatly reduced prices. We were very happy to see that they'd come through the storm unscathed except for a lack of internet, and stocked up on more of the seemingly endless supply of Old El Paso meal kits that they sell two for a dollar. Cheaper than buying tortillas and taco seasoning, lol! We also visited the local record store, which opened for regular business hours despite the circumstances as well, and bought a couple of records because we want them to stay in business even though times are tough. It was, overall, an extremely successful outing.

Sometimes the world here in our house feels tantalizingly close to normal, an endless weekend where we are just waiting to go back to school and work. But just driving into town and seeing all the places closed for lack of water is enough to destroy that bubble, and driving thirty minutes in any direction is like stepping into a different world. Marshall, Spruce Pine, Swannanoa, Black Mountain, the River Arts District. Dozens more places that I have not seen and probably couldn't even get to if I tried. I'm very afraid for what is about to happen in Florida, for their sake and for ours. Appalachia has a long history of being forgotten about when bad things are happening. I really hope it doesn't go that way again.

[politemagic]

writing request: III and II trying to build a fire after a snowstorm

i have been buried in snow for the past two weeks, how appropriate this is ❄️ this is somewhat-not-really based in Sleep Manor, not associated with the au but i was picturing that house and those fellas as I wrote it.

782 words

II knew he was awake too early the second he opened his eyes. He haphazardly patted around the bed in search of his phone, the bright screen hurting his eyes as it lit up in his hand.

4:17am

His battery was almost dead, as indicated by the angry red battery icon in the top corner. He groaned, sitting up in bed as that could only mean the power had gone out in the night. The violent shivers that hit him as the blankets fell away confirmed that suspicion, and he hesitantly slipped his feet into the pair of slippers by his bed and grabbed his warmest robe before venturing out into the hallway, which was even colder than his bedroom.

It had been the worst storm they’d seen in years, he should have known the power would go out while they slept, could have prepared the house better. But there was nothing to do now but try to warm the place back up.

As he descended the stairs, he could hear faint outbursts coming from the living room.

“C’mon fucker, just fucking catch already!”

II poked his head into the room to find III crouched before the fireplace, aggressively flicking matches into the mostly-burned logs from their fire yesterday.

“That old stuff’s not gonna do you any good mate.” II said, causing III to jump in surprise, sending matches scattering across the floor.

Pressing a hand to his chest, III looked pointedly at II and gestured towards the window. “Well everything out there is going to be damp as shit with all the snow. What exactly am I supposed to do here?”

II just rolled his eyes and started walking towards the back door in the kitchen.

“Hey! What are you doing?”

II ignored III once again, making his way to the neat rows of boots by the door, lacing his up before slipping on his coat.

“Where are you going?” III asked irritatedly as he appeared in the door frame.

“To the wood shed.”

“The wood shed?” II just nodded. “Isn’t it all wet?”

“That’s why it’s in a shed, darling. To keep the wood dry. I’ll be back in a minute, you get some newspaper and dryer lint if we have any.”

-

II trudged back through the thick snow with his arms stacked tall with firewood. He and Vessel spent some time splitting wood before the cold came to build a good stockpile for the winter. As he pushed through the door, III was in front of him in an instant, helping unload some of the logs from his arms.

“Since when do we have a wood shed?”

“Since we moved in. You just prefer to explore the basement rather than the property.” II said with a laugh as he placed the pile on the floor by the fire place.

II showed III the best way to build a fire, carefully placing logs and tinder to build a solid foundation. III stuffed a couple of small tufts of dryer lint in the center to help the flame catch. II passed III the box of matches once more.

“Want to do the honors?” II asked, laughing when III enthusiastically nodded his head, plucking a match from the box and striking it before tossing it right on top of the dryer lint in the center. The flame grew quickly from the fibers, licking at the edges of the wooden logs.

After about 10 minutes of strategic poking, adding wood, and fanning the flame the two sat back to watch their fire roaring and crackling with life. When Vessel and IV woke up to the freezing house, they ventured downstairs to find III curled up on the rug in front of the fireplace like a cat and II half asleep in the arm chair. His eyes were trained on the fire, wanting to make sure it was burning and keeping the room warm for everyone since III fell asleep the second he got cozy again, but the gentle dance of the flames was lulling him to sleep again.

IV, shivering and clutching his duvet around his shoulders, joined III on the rug to bask in the fire’s warmth. Vessel placed a soft hand on II’s shoulder, squeezing in silent thanks before stretching out along the couch.

They woke again later to the sound of heavy footsteps as III re-entered the room with a fresh bundle of firewood to add to the dying fire.

“What are you doing?” IV asked sleepily as III stepped over him on the rug.

“Did you know we had a wood shed?” III said with glee before tending to the fire the way II had shown him earlier.

a/n: my dearest kate thank you!! this was v v cute and fun to write! also somewhat employed my random ass personal headcanon that iii is a pyromaniac with no technical skills. he likes melting shit, drenching stuff in lighter fluid and setting it on fire, etc. but he can't build an actual fire to save his life. this is why he is excited about the wood shed

[crappymixtape]

baby, it's cold outside

REQUEST → @sattlersquarry, A VERY MERRY MIXTAPE ❝ what about 🎁 exchanging presents with steve?? i just know he’s a thoughtful gift giver! – it's been snowing all day, enough to snap the power lines and make the lights go out, and when steve comes over to build you a fire you can't think of a more perfect time to exchange gifts | ( 0.0k – just honestly pure fluff, modern!steve x reader )

B A B Y, I T ' S C O L D O U T S I D E 🎶 baby it's cold outside, frank sinatra & dorothy kirsten

I’m dreaming of a white Christmas, just like the ones I used to know…

Frank Sinatra’s voice drifted across the living room and you shot a glare at the record player.

“Oh, shut up already,” you muttered, glancing out the window to find the snow on the sill had piled up another half inch.

It was going to be historic the weatherman had said yesterday. A storm of which the likes Hawkins hasn’t seen in years! And he wasn’t kidding. It dumped fourteen inches of snow in three hours and even though your crotchety old landlord had dug out the walkway to the street, all that work would be undone in another few hours by the looks of it.

Your mom had called twice already asking if you had enough soup? Enough toilet paper? And, honey, you should have gone to the store yesterday! We could be stuck all weekend! Your retired electrician father lectured you on what to do if you lost power. Something about being able to use the gas stove even if the electric cut out, but honestly all you could think about?

Was Steve.

Steve and how you’d promised him you were going to exchange gifts this weekend before your families got all tied up in Christmas and dinner and ham, and as you looked out the window again a scowl twisted across your lips.

Stupid winter. And snow. And Christmas. And cold. Then, before you could throw more profanities at the weather outside, the lights flickered.

Off, on. Off, on. Off.

Really off.

You sucked in a gasp, heart racing in your chest, hammering against your ribcage as you slowly felt your way through the inky black hallway toward the kitchen where you’d left your phone. Dammit, where was it? You knew there was nothing to be afraid of, but you'd never admit it – still being scared of the dark.

Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz.

Your phone lit up from the counter, giving you just enough light to cut the rest of the distance to the kitchen – thank god – and when you picked it up a single word beamed up at you: Steve.

Your heart raced even faster, but not because of the dark.

“Hey,” your voice was quieter than usual and you instantly felt like an idiot for letting the power outage get the best of you.

“Oh–hey,” his tone edged on concern, “Are you okay? I was just gonna see if you still wanted me to come over.”

“In this weather? No, way. It’s fine. I’m totally fine,” you tried to be confident, but who were you kidding. It sounded pathetic.

“Totally fine?” he echoed back, unconvinced, and it pulled a sigh from your lungs.

“No. The power’s out.”

“Power’s out? Shit. You got a flashlight? Batteries? Maybe some candles? Damn, babe. Is it cold? I’m coming over.”

“Steve wait! I–” but he was already gone.

It didn’t take him long to get there, and he’d never tell you but he blew the stop sign at the corner, the tires on his BMW sliding against the snow before throwing it into park outside your house.

You poked your head out the door as he rummaged around in his trunk, snow piling up again along your walkway. If he stayed even an hour he’d risk getting stuck.

“What are you doing?” you called out into the snow.

“Brought supplies! Get back inside, s’too cold!” he hollered back, your mouth firming into a line.

“I’m not helpless you know!”

“Yeah, yeah. I know!”

Arms full, of what you couldn’t see, Steve elbowed the trunk shut and awkwardly tromped through the snow to your door.

Had you liked winter even a tiny bit more the scene before you might have been pretty. Picturesque. Street lamps dark and roads quiet. Snow falling silently atop the already glittering ground. A beautiful boy coming up your walkway with a bundle of wood under one arm and a blanket under the other. Soft, white snowflakes clinging to the swoop of hair that fell out from under his beanie into his eyes.

Okay, maybe winter wasn’t so bad.

Arms wrapped around your torso, your lips tugged up into a smile as he finally made it to the top of the steps.

“Hi,” came out a little quiet, a little impish, and it made him smile right back.

“Hi.”

“What’s the plan for that?” you pointed at the bundle of wood and his brow furrowed.

“Make a fire? You don’t have any heat, which–” he nudged you with his chest, “–get back inside, you’re letting all the warmth out.”

Steve kicked the door shut behind him before toeing his boots off and walked across the living room to the fireplace. The one you’d never used. Yanking his hat off, he knelt down with the bundle of wood and started to dig around in the rolled up blanket.

First came a rolled up newspaper for kindling and then, as the blanket fell open, a small, brightly wrapped present with a tiny gold bow on top tumbled out.

He remembered.

Your heart stuttered in your chest and it was like he could sense it, looking up at you with those big brown eyes. Hair a mess, lopsided smile pulling at his lips, cheeks rosy from the cold and god, every bit of him was perfection.

“Got a box of matches? Or a lighter?” he asked, hands still gloved as he started crumpling up balls of newspaper and setting them at the bottom of the fireplace.

“Oh–y–yeah,” you stumbled over your words and reached up onto the mantle for the matches. Even after being together for almost two years, he was still making you trip over yourself.

“Here, this should catch easy,” he tipped the tops of the wood together and took the matches from you. Struck one on the brick chimney and brought the flame back to the paper where it caught and crackled. Licked up the wood and washed the room in a warm glow like an Indiana sunset in July.

He grinned up at you, “See?”

“Pretty good, Harrington,” you couldn’t help grinning back, failing to hide the lovesick look on your face and Steve soaked it all up.

“Mmhm,” he hummed proudly and stood from the floor to press a kiss to your forehead before moving to tug off his coat and gloves.

Your boyfriend.

The one who drove across town to build you a fire.

The one who took the time to wrap your present so perfectly.

The one who still wore his old Hawkins Athletics sweater even though it had holes in it.

The one who didn’t give a shit if his thick wool socks were tugged up over the legs of his sweatpants.

The most perfect combination of sexy and dorky and he was all yours.

Grabbing your hand he pulled you into him. Hands wide and warm as they settled on your hips. Pressed his chest to your back and admired his handiwork as the heat from the fire crept up your legs.

“Much better,” he said hooking his chin over your shoulder. Then, tone softening, he murmured, “Sorry your power’s out…didn’t go how you wanted, huh?”

You grumbled a bit, pouted and nestled into him more.

“No.”

“Poor thing,” he kissed you again, pressed his lips to your cheek, and just as you leaned into it he loosened his hold on you. The absence of his touch made you ache, but before you could protest he was bending down to grab the bright, cheerful looking present still sitting next to the fireplace.

Holding it in his hands he turned back to you and smiled. Warm like summer. Eyes like honey, flecks of gold and amber and so full of fondness.

“I’ve been holding onto this since–” his nose scrunched up in thought, “–shit, almost a year?” His cheeks grew pink as he rubbed at the back of his neck and chuckled at himself. A low, warm thing as he held the gift out to you.

Your brows furrowed together in thought as you worked to try and figure out why he was so flustered. What he could have found a year ago? Where had you been?

Eddie’s show at the Tin Bucket? No.

Flying down to visit Robin and Nance in San Diego? Maybe?

Your road trip to Chicago or the train ride to Minneapolis?

Looking up at him your fingers picked at the tape. Slowly unwrapping it as you wracked your brain trying to figure out what it could possibly be and Steve just beamed at you. The same, silly lovesick look you’d just given him, and a small laugh pushed itself from your lungs.

“Steve, what is it?”

“Just open it.”

You huffed a tiny sound of frustration and dropped your gaze back down the box. Fingers moving a bit faster now to unwrap it, pulled the paper away to reveal a small jewelry box and your chest squeezed tight. Eyes flicking up to look at him as his name fell from your lips, a quiet sound of reverence as he bit back a smile.

“Go on,” he whispered, so you clicked open the box and there in the low light of the fire, a tiny gold chain glittered bright in the orange glow.

Your grandmother’s locket.

The one your grandfather had given to her so many Christmases ago.

The one she’d given to you before you and Steve had started dating.

The one you never took off after she passed away that same summer.

The one who’s tiny hinge had cracked, little gold panels swinging broken like the way your heart felt.

The one that sat atop your dresser because it was too expensive to fix and–

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you bit your lips in to try and stifle the strangled sound that had crept up your throat, but Steve was right there. Hands steady as he carefully took the necklace from the box for you.

“Here.”

His fingers brushed softly against your skin as he laced it around the nape of your neck. Closed the hook and gently pressed it to your chest, fixed and polished and shining like it had the first time it’d been gifted.

You could feel yourself falling apart, could feel the tears falling freely down your cheeks now and Steve pulled you in close. Wrapped his arms around you and held you tight, held you together.

“I love you,” you said into his sweater, voice cracked and wobbling as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

crappymixtape™ •steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist

[hayleylovesjessica]

My poor partner! She's a high school English teacher, and due to the winter storm that's coming in this afternoon, school was cancelled today. However, instead of enjoying her day off, we spent the better part of the morning at her primary care place and then her pharmacy. She's had bouts of extreme abdominal pain, followed by vomiting, all week. She even called in sick on Tuesday, which is something that she NEVER does. I tried getting her to make an appointment yesterday afternoon, but she refused. It was only when she had yet another bout of pain and vomiting overnight that she finally broke down and called her doctor. Anyway, her doctor is fairly certain that she's passing a kidney stone and said that my partner has all the classic symptoms, including localization of pain to just one side and traces of blood in her urine. I hope that she passes the stone soon. I myself had a kidney stone back in college. It was the most intense pain I've ever had in my life and was the one and only time that I ever dragged myself to the infirmary. So, I know from experience just how bad it can feel.

[markjelol1112]

Mark his drinking problems a Mark and Karina story P2

Warning: 18+ drunken failures sex spanking fingering

Mark was asleep same as Karina but while he is sleeping he was thinking about s*x so he try something but what he did was for Karina amazing she was sleeping for a moment while Mark try to find his d*ck to do something everyone was sleeping so they don't even hear or even see it so Karina don't even mind it but Mark found something but he didn't notice that he is In Karina her p*ssy and he started fingering in Karina her p*ssy and she started moaning

Oh yeah it feels so good." Karina said while moaning

And Mark was fingering deeper in Karina her p*ssy that's se moaned loud but nobody heard anything of it Mark was fingering so good in Karina her p*ssy that her p*ssy was getting wet

I'm going to c*m." Karina said again

And all of her wet p*ssy came out of it

Oh yeah that was great oh my god." Karina said again

The next morning Mark had a headache of being drunk yesterday and finding out that he was fingering Karina in her p*ssy last night

What the f*ck have I done oh f*cking lord." Mark said again

As Daniël came in and was in shock

Mark what the f*ck happened here the floor is completely wet what have you done." Daniël said again

I don't know the last thing I remember that I dreamed that I was having s*x with someone else to make Ningning jealous on me that's all." Mark said again

As Mark and Daniël cleaned everything up before the others know what happened Killian came downstairs and saw that Mark and Daniël where cleaning the floor

Guys what the f*ck are you cleaning." Killian said again

Mark I think you can explain what happened I guess." Daniël said again

I don't remember it what happened idiot." Mark said again

As everything was clean Giselle Winter Thomas and Ningning came downstairs to see what's going on

Good morning guys." Thomas said again

YOU I WILL SPEAK WITH YOU FOR A MOMENT." Mark yelled again

Uhm is he still drunk." Thomas said again

No just a headache now." Mark said again

That's because you where drunk yesterday idiot." Daniël said again

I don't drink alcohol you idiot." Mark said again

You drank 15 bottles of beer yesterday because of Ningning." Daniël said again

Oh shut the f*ck up." Mark said again

Guys can you be quiet Karina is still sleeping I don't know what happened to her but I think she had her best night ever yesterday when we were sleeping." Ningning said again

Shut the f*ck up you I didn't tell you to talk." Mark said again

Mark calm down." Thomas said again

And Mark slapped in Thomas his face

YOU STOLE HER FROM ME YOU F*CKING IDIOT NOW YOU MAKE ME THINKING OF A OTHER PERSON." Mark yelled again

STOP IT OKAY IT'S NOT MY FAULT THAT ME AND KARINA BROKE UP YESTERDAY BEFORE I WAS WITH NINGNING TO A ROMANTIC MOVIE NIGHT FOR US 2 THAT AND IN FACT THAT I NEVER LEAVE KARINA BEHIND ME YOU SON OF A B*TCH." Thomas yelled again

Guys please let me sleep." Karina said again

And she opened her eyes and realised that she did something

Uhm why am I half n*ked can someone explain this." Karina said again

While the boys turned around and Karina put her underwear and pants back on she felt weird

Well why you all looking at me." Karina said again

Maybe you should where cleaner clothes." Winter said again

As Karina go to her room and thinks what happened last night while she is undressing herself Mark has a little problem in his pants

Uhm Mark something down in your pants is looking at you." Daniël

What do you mean with AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH oh my god I need to go to my room." Mark said again

Instead of running to his room he runs upstairs

Mark your room is there not upstairs." Killian said again

Karina was still looking at her n*ked body grabbing her t*ts sometimes and still thinking who did something last night but she didn't lock her door of her room and all of the sudden Mark stormed in her room without knocking

Oh my god what's going on and Aaaaaaaaaah oh sorry I didn't notice that you where here and n*ked I'm gonna leave you bye." Mark said again

Wait maybe I can help with that problem from your d*ck in your pants." Karina said again

And she locked her door of her room and put Mark his pants of and his underwear too

Karina what are you planning to do." Mark said again

Just a little thing." Karina said again

And she started to s*cking Mark his d*ck and Mark grabbed Karina her hair and make it go faster

While Karina was s*cking Mark his d*ck she was also fingering herself after she s*cked Mark his d*ck Karina throwing Mark on her bed and put his d*ck in her wet p*ssy and started moaning while having s*x with Mark

Oh yeah do you feel good bby." Karina said again while moaning

Oh f*ck yeah I feel I need more and more and more do it bby do it bby." Mark said again

The end P2