#but they actually pull out a freaking John Lennon | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

idontwanttospoiltheparty · 3 years ago

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Care to share the John struggling with sexuality findings… feel as if it would nice to learn

Wow this is a HUGE question. I'll try to gather some evidence (I was actually doing a Notion doc on this as a sideproject lmao but it's nowhere near finished)

This is definitely not a complete list (and most of this will be old news to people who've been on here for a while), but it's quite extensive and hopefully helpful to someone who's just starting to research this, I'd say. Also feel free to come back and ask, if you have more specific questions about this once you read this!

Also, when I was almost finished with this post, tumblr froze on me and I hadn't saved the post as a draft and the text couldn't be copy-pasted anymore. I freaked out since this took me hours, but was able to salvage the raw, unformatted, paragraphless text by getting it from the page inspection thingy (pro-tip!). So, I had to reformat everything and add the sources back in (but least the sources on the frozen page were still clickable so I didn't have to go hunting for them again, just had to recopy the links over).

Point is, there might be mistakes in here because of that :(

April 1963 Trip to Barcelona with Brian Epstein:

(here's some background info on the trip if you're not in the know.)

• Pete Shotton, John's childhood friend's account of a conversation with John shortly after the trip (from the book John Lennon: In My Life)

I visited John at Aunt Mimi’s a few days after his return to England. And when he started in about how much he had enjoyed Spain, I could hardly resist taking the piss out of him. “So you had a good time with Brian, then?” I smirked. Nudge nudge, wink wink.

I was somewhat taken aback when John didn’t so much as crack a smile. “Oh, fuckin’ hell,” he groaned. “Not you as well, Pete!”

“What do you mean, not me as well?”

“They’re all fucking going on about it.”

“It’s OK, John. Don’t take it so serious. I’m just joking, for Christ’s sake.”

“Actually Pete,” he said softly, “Something did happen with him one night.”

Now that wiped the grin right off my face. Had I even dreamed there might be any truth whatsoever to the rumors, I would never have made light of the subject in the first place. Still – as John surely knew – I would have stood by him, and let the rest of the world handle the business of passing moral judgement, even if he had just told me he’d committed murder. And John would surely have done the same for me.

Which, after all, is what true friendship is all about.

“What happened,” John explained, “is that Eppy just kept on and on at me. Until one night I finally just pulled me trousers down and said to him: ‘Oh, for Christ’s sake, Brian, just stick it up me fucking arse then.’

“And he said to me, ‘Actually, John, I don’t do that kind of thing. That’s not what I like to do.’

“‘Well,’ I said, ‘what is it you like to do, then?’

“And he said, ‘I’d really just like to touch you, John.’

“And so I let him toss me off.”

And that was that. End of story.

“That’s all, John” I said. “Well, so what? What’s the big fucking deal, then?”

“Yeah, so fucking what! The poor bastard. He’s having a fucking hard enough time anyway.” This was in reference to the “butch” dockers who, on several recent occasions, had rewarded Brian’s advances by beating him to a bloody pulp.

“So what harm did it do, then, Pete, for fuck’s sake?” John asked rhetorically. “No harm at all. The poor fucking bastard, he can’t help the way he is.”

Comment: Pretty eyebrow-raising to offer yourself up like that if you don't on some level desire it, but at the same time this plus John's violent reaction to Bob Wooler insinuating something happened weeks later to me indicates he was not feeling very secure and normal about what had happened.

• John himself on the trip (from his 1980 Playboy interview)

I went on holiday to Spain with Brian... which started all the rumors that he and I were having a love affair. Well, it was almost a love affair, but not quite. It was never consummated. But we did have a pretty intense relationship. And it was my first experience with someone I knew was a homosexual. He admitted it to me. We had this holiday together because Cyn was pregnant and we left her with the baby and went to Spain. Lots of funny stories, you know. We used to sit in cafs and Brian would look at all the boys and I would ask, 'Do you like that one? Do you like this one?' It was just the combination of our closeness and the trip that started the rumors.

Comment: "Never consummated" might be consistent with Pete's account if to John "consummation" entailed some form of penetration. It's left to the imagination what John might've meant by "almost a love affair". Also, his interest in how Brian experiences his own sexual orientation is of note, regardless of the extent to which something between him and Brian happened, I'd say.

• John on the trip (from his 1970 Lennon Remembers interview)

Q: Let me ask you about something else that was in the Hunter Davies book. At one point it said you and Brian Epstein went off to Spain.

A: Yes. We didn’t have an affair though. Fuck knows what was said. I was pretty close to Brian. If somebody is going to manage me, I want to know them inside out.

Comment: This is kind of weird to me, because Brian had been signed on as his manager for over a year by April 1963. John wanting to "know him" seems a bit late by this point. He might not be lying though and just genuinely have confused some memories.

• John on attacking Bob Wooler at Paul's 21st birthday party (Interview with Andy Peebles, 1980. I can't for the life of me find a full transcript of this but here's a post transcribing this bit and the audio is on Youtube, I haven't double-checked the transcription though)

The Beatles’ first national coverage was me beating up Bob Wooler at Paul’s 21st party because he intimated I was homosexual. I must have had a fear that maybe I was homosexual to attack him like that and it’s very complicated reasoning. But I was very drunk and I hit him and I could have really killed somebody then. And that scared me…

Comment: John is directly expressing that he once doubted his own sexuality. Obviously, this does also slightly read like a denial, in that his use of "must have had a fear" sounds, grammatically, like that fear was perhaps unfounded.

At the same time, can you blame him for backing out of admitting to this, if that's what's going on? I also sort of personally doubt he ever got to a point in his life where he was actually fully comfortable with his attraction to men, and even went through phases where he actively repressed/denied it.

• John on attacking Bob (1971 interview with Peter McCabe & Robert D. Schonfeld)

I remember it, vaguely. I was out of me mind with drink – when you get down to the point where you drink all the empty glasses, that drunk. And he was saying, “Well, come on, John, tell us,” something like that, “Tell me about you and Brian, we all know,” like that. And obviously, I must have been un– uh, f– frightened of the fag in me to get so angry at that. You know, when you’re twenty-one, you want to be a man, and all that.

Comment: The same as above, essentially

John and Paul (+ Yoko's suspicions):

• John on his expectations from a romantic/creative partner (1972 Interview with Sandra Shevey)

It’s a plus, it’s not a minus. The plus is that your best friend, also, can hold you without… I mean, I’m not a homosexual, or we could have had a homosexual relationship and maybe that would have satisfied it, with working with other male artists. [faltering] An artist – it’s more – it’s much better to be working with another artist of the same energy, and that’s why there’s always been Beatles or Marx Brothers or men, together. Because it’s alright for them to work together or whatever it is. It’s the same except that we sleep together, you know? I mean, not counting love and all the things on the side, just as a working relationship with her, it has all the benefits of working with another male artist and all the joint inspiration, and then we can hold hands too, right?

Comment: Even in a quote technically denying being attracted to men he seems to express a wish for having such a relationship. The last statement kind of feels like at least some part of him wants to hold hands with the men he's worked with.

• John (+ Yoko), when asked about how people perceive his relationship with Yoko, bringing up Paul (Interview with David Scheff 1980; this didn't get printed by Playboy)

JOHN: Well, that’s rubbish, you know. Because nobody controls me. I’m uncontrollable. The only one that can control me is me, and that’s just barely possible. [Yoko laughs] But that’s what life is about. And that’s the lesson I’m learning. Because – nobody ever said anything about Paul having a spell over me, when I was with him for a long time. Or me having a spell over Paul. They didn’t think that was abnormal, two guys together.

YOKO: They might have. [laughs]

JOHN: Or four guys together. In those days? Why didn’t anybody ever say, “How come those guys don’t split up? I mean, what’s going on backstage? I mean, what is that Paul and John business? Why – you know, how can they be together so long?”

Comment: John clearly sees a parallel between JohnandPaul and JohnandYoko (where few saw it) and uses it to demonstrate a hypocrisy he perceives. However, when claiming no one found his and Paul's relationship oddly close, Yoko calls this into question; she appears to disagree with John's assessment that what he and Paul had was "normal". Also, John correcting from it being about two people to about four, only for him to return right back to just him and Paul is of note to me.

• John, on how he feels about his relationship and partnership with Yoko (December 1970, Rolling Stone)

It’s just handy to fuck your best friend. That’s what it is. And once I resolved the fact that it was a woman as well, it’s all right. We go through the trauma of life and death every day so it’s not so much of a worry about what sex we are anymore.

Comment: Just pretty interesting, considering how often he compared Yoko directly to Paul and made allusions to replacing him with her. Also, his comment on having to resolve the fact she was a woman is odd (but he very well might be talking about the role of a "best friend" and deconstructing some type of misogyny that stopped him from opening up to women). John generally had an interesting perspective on the roles of being a friend, a sexual partner, a creative partner and how those intersect.

• John to Paul reflecting on the songs they've been writing for the Get Back sessions (Get Back sessions, January 24th, here's the audio, I don't have a link to the video. It's in episode 2 or 3 of Get Back though)

PAUL: It’s like, uh, “We have to get back.” “We’re on our way home.”

JOHN: Yeah.

PAUL: There’s a story. There’s another one – ‘Don’t Let Me Down’. “Oh darling, I’ll never let you down.” Like we’re doing—

JOHN: Yeah. It’s like you and me are lovers.

PAUL: [reserved] Yeah. [pause]

JOHN: We’ll just have to camp it up for those two.

PAUL: Yeah. Well, I’ll be wearing my skirt for the show, anyway.

Comment: Paul not flatout laughing at the comment kind of makes it seem like the vibe John was giving off here wasn't a joke (Paul knowing him well, would probably have a better feel for this than we do). But I will say that Paul during this period generally seems to have had trouble reading John and his emotions.

• Yoko on John and Paul (from the book John Lennon: The Life by Philip Norman, which Yoko later revoked her endorsement from)

From chance remarks he had made, she [Yoko] gathered there had even been a moment when—on the principle that bohemians should try everything—he had contemplated an affair with Paul, but had been deterred by Paul’s immovable heterosexuality. Nor, apparently, was Yoko the only one to have picked up on this. Around Apple, in her hearing, Paul would sometimes be called John’s Princess. She had also once heard a rehearsal tape with John’s voice calling out “Paul … Paul …” in a strangely subservient, pleading way. “I knew there was something going on there,” she remembers. “From his point of view, not from Paul’s. And he was so angry at Paul, I couldn’t help wondering what it was really about.”

Comment: I've already talked about how problematic and ambiguous this passage is but the basic gist of it is quite clear: Yoko felt justified in suspecting John had sexual feelings for Paul. She had reason to believe she wasn't the only one suspecting this.

Misc. other things John (allegedly) said on this topic:

• Yoko on her and John discussing the terms of an open marriage in 1973 (John Lennon: The Life)

There was even some discussion, albeit not very serious, of whether he should stick to his own gender. “John said ‘It would hurt you like crazy if I made it with a girl. With a guy, maybe you wouldn’t be hurt, because that’s not competition. But I can’t make it with a guy because I love women too much, and I’d have to fall in love with the guy and I don’t think I can.’”

Comment: It's odd of John to suggest going out with a man if he doesn't actually want to, isn't it? We're also missing any hint of how Yoko reacted to the suggestion so this passage is eyebrow-raising to say the least. Especially given that Yoko appears to have had suspicions about John and Paul. It's not unreasonable to assume he backed out the moment Yoko showed some resistance towards the idea.

• John mixing up pronouns when reflecting on his partnership with Yoko (1971 Peter McCabe/Robert D. Schonfeld)

And it was like finding gold or something. To find somebody that you can go and get pissed with, and have exactly the same relationship as any mate in Liverpool you’d ever had, but also you could go to bed with him, and – it could stroke your head when you felt tired, or sick, or depressed. It could also be Mother. And obviously, that’s what the male-female – you know, you could take those roles with each other. And if the intellect’s there, [and] you know, compatible, well it’s just like – we’re in the pools.

Comment: I don't usually like to put too much weight on misspeaking because I think it happens without much reason most of the time. However, John saying "him" and then switching to "it", and not bothering to explicitly correct himself is interesting. He also barely falters, doesn't laugh about the mistake. It doesn't appear to be a normal instance of misspeaking to me because of this.

• John talking about what he aspired to be as a teen (I'm not actually sure what interview this clip originates from but it appears to be from 1975)

I was thinking, if only I could get out of Liverpool, be famous and rich, that would be great. I’ve always wanted to be a famous artist, you know? Possibly I’d have to marry a very rich old lady… or man, you know… to… to look after me while I did my art. But then Rock & Roll came and I thought ‘Ah, this is the one’, so I didn’t have to marry anybody or live with them, you know?

Comment: John openly suggesting he wanted to marry a man at some point.

• John in an interview during the "Lost Weekend" on all the press coverage his split from Yoko was getting at the time. (December 1975 interview with Lisa Robinson)

Yes, all your best friends let you know what's going on. I was trying to put it 'round that I was gay, you know– I thought that would throw them off... dancing at all the gay clubs in Los Angeles, flirting with the boys... but it never got off the ground.

Comment: Here, he is openly admitting to wanting people to think he is gay. It does seem to be quite a jokey tone though. Still, not the most common joke for straight people to make.

• John, interviewing himself, bringing up bisexuality (Andy Warhol's magazine, 1974)

Q. I’m sorry. Just a few more questions MR. LENNON, I’m sure you understand I have a deadline… my editor… etc..

A. Alright then, GET ON WITH IT!

Q. Have you ever fucked a guy?

A. Not yet, I thought I’d save it til I was 40, life begins at 40 you know, tho I never noticed it.

Q. It is trendy to be bisexual and you’re usually 'keeping up with the Jones’, haven’t you ever… there was talk about you and PAUL…

A. Oh, I thought it was about me and Brian Epstein… anyway I’m saving all the juice for my own version of THE REAL FAB FOUR BEATLES STORY etc.. etc..

Q. It seems like you’re saving quite a lot for when you’re 40..

Comment: Honestly, the awareness of bisexuality currently being trendy and bringing it up is extremely interesting to me, as someone who has accused myself of faking my own sexuality for attention. It makes it seem like this is not something he took lightly, even if he is joking about it here.

There's also something on Tony Manero who openly claimed John came onto him multiple times and called him bisexual but I've heard that people have had trouble confirming he's a real person I think (?), so I didn't include it. You can read his account here though.

As I've said, this list isn't comprehensive, there's a few more anecdotes that I've either seen people mention but haven't come across the original source yet or stuff other people see as compelling evidence that I don't agree is relevant. Also, of course, I might have forgotten some things.

Here's some other places you can check out, off the top of my head:

My John speculation tag

My John-Paul speculation tag

My John-Brian tag

@thecoleopterawithana's "I'm not a homosexual" tag

@amoralto's oh john and awkward best friend talk placeholder tags

#90% of my followers like: fiona we know all this shit why did you kill yourself making an encyclopedia of Water Is Wet john lennon factoids #making this traumatized me #i WILL be copying this back into my notion doc lmao #i saved this as a draft like five times after getting burned so hard #i was almost sobbing and my mum was like “What's wrong?” and how was i supposed to tell her my john lennon wasnt straight essay was perhaps #lost to cyberspace #ask #anon #mine #john #ref #john speculation #my analysis #straight up FORGOT to add hunter davies and that other guy whose name escapes me saying john TOLD THEM he had a thing with brian

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johnmccharmly · 3 years ago

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Lennon/McCartney (The Absolute Endgame Lovestory of the 20th Century)

The way this freaking meme is a PERFECT description of their relationship...

John Lennon and Paul McCartney, ever since teenage years, had a connection that ran so deep, I believe till this day Paul doesn't fully understand it.

The immense love, adoration, and understanding that ran between the two was so intense that it probably scared them to a degree. John constantly tested Paul's love for him by doing ridiculous things to see if he would leave. Paul never left, and John needed that reassurance. The possessiveness John showed over Paul throughout his life, even at their younger ages, is believed to have stemmed from many deep rooted issues from his childhood (abandonment, lack of affection, pain of loss) that once he latched on to Paul, and realized how much he cared for him, it was so hard for John to truly believe Paul felt the same fire towards him. So like I said before, giving Paul many chances to say "this is ridiculous, I hate you, goodbye John". Paul never did. He stayed for John. He always chose John.

This same intense possessive love was not one sided. It can be seen in the early years through Paul in situations like Stuart Sutcliffe (John's close friend Paul HATED mostly from pure jealousy that Stu had a good chunk of John's attention). Once Paul realized that John would always choose him also, it seemed to give him that confidence and peace. It would be JohnandPaul or PaulandJohn as one single entity forever.

This strong, powerful, unstoppable force that was Lennon-McCartney would continue all the way up to the India trip in 1968. I TRULY believe something huge happened between them during that trip. Prompting Paul's early departure and John's depression. Personally, I think John (or Paul who knows) may have acted on their feelings and was turned down. In fear of the homophobia still prominent in the 60s. Or they may have acted on it in their younger days, and once it was attempted to rekindle those unspoken feelings/actions, it scared them (Paul) shitless, so he left. Leaving a heartbroken and depressed John... Then once they all returned, obvious tension was between them (observed by many that were with them at the time), and things just continued to spiral downwards from there.

Now this is where Linda comes in... John no longer had Paul's full unwavering attention, and when John would pull his antics to regain Paul's attention (Yoko is the big one), Paul didn't respond. I believe in John's head he thought "Paul hates me now. It's over. Now I need Yoko to rely on for all that Paul won't do for me anymore". Then Paul marrying Linda, prompting John to marry Yoko, it all seemed like a big game between the two for the other's attention : "What can I do to one up the other without actually talking it out with them".

Their lack of communication, and virtual inability to express their love to one another played a big part in this I believe. Whatever happened or didn't happen between them between 1967-1968 seemed to have left a huge crater in their ability to just talk to each other. John couldn't tell Paul how he felt, and vice versa. Though their pain (especially Paul's) and longing for one another at this time could be heard in their music ( Long and Winding Road, Two of Us, Oh! Darling, etc.) and after the breakup of the Beatles, John and Paul continued to communicate with their songs to one another (How Do You Sleep?, Dear Boy, Too Many People, Jealous Guy, Let Me Roll It, etc.) , showing their true feelings. Once Again. through the music.

Now back to the main point of the post haha. John and Paul's connection ran so deep, and was so intense and confusing, that without that constant reassurance that the other one still cared. This lack of reassurance is still shown in Paul. Ex: he could see a picture of him and John , or a quote from John towards Paul and say something along the lines of : "Seeing this tells me that we really were friends." or "This reminds me that he really did love me"... In the late 60's through the 70's, they pushed each other away, and seemed to have spent the rest of their lives (Paul still today) trying to fill the hole that the absence of the other left.

Which is why the... meme... is SO fitting because the constant '"fighting" for one another is what kept them together. No matter how much they bickered, it meant they still loved one another, and would never stop "fighting" for each other, and if they did stop it must mean it was over (it actually was not). Which is also why the "fight me for the rest of our lives" fits so well. They needed one another, they needed that reassurance, they needed each other in their lives. No matter what, or whatever they thought, the love that ran between them was never ending. They are soulmates, Soulties, and Twin Flames... The universe is going to give them their next chance at happiness <3

If you made it to the end, share your McLennon opinions! Platonic? One-Sided? In love? There is SOOO much more I could have added to this post, I could read and write endlessly on this topic, but i will give you all a chance to share your own thoughts and opinions... Soooo Share Them All :))

#mclennon #paul mccartney #john lennon #mclennon feels #john lennon and paul mccartney #lennon mccartney #dear friend #jealous guy #they were in love #its so painful to think about tbh but im fine #the beatles #mclennon has taken over my life #absolute soulmates #:')))

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jaskierswolf · 4 years ago

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hi wolfie it is i, the ramen man, i was wondering if you could write a prompt based on a baking competition tv show ? maybe even christmas themed if you want ?? no stress if you can't/don't wanna write it, i love u 🥺

This got... long? So you can also find on AO3

__________

Jaskier wasn’t stressed. He’d made this recipe a thousand times. It was his speciality! No one made better chocolate brownies than he did but his presentation let him down. They were messy, gooey and delicious but this was a competition. They needed to look good too. He whined as he sat in front of his oven. Who made chocolate brownies for a cooking competition? Oh god he was an idiot.

He glanced around the room. Valdo Marx was busy finishing up his winter spiced cake and it smelled absolutely divine; the bastard. Plus he’d brought along some holly sprigs to make the whole thing look a bunch more christmassy. Jaskier had baked some orange slices to decorate his brownies. He also had some edible golden glitter for the top and a few spun sugar decoration for good luck. His secret ingredient though was Cointreau. The orange liqueur kept the brownies extra gooey in the centre without them being too rich.

He stared into the oven, chewing his bottom lip anxiously as he ran a hand through his hair. They were almost done. There was a shiny film over the top that would give the brownies a nice crunch. If he did well with these he would get into the next round; the final round. In that round they hand to create gingerbread houses, well more palaces. They had to absolute architectural masterpieces and he was shitting himself. Like his brownies, his gingerbread tasted amazing but it wasn’t always pretty. They were delicious and wonderful but not much to look at on the surface.

He’d only gotten so far because they tasted good.

“Come on, come on, come on!” He muttered and pressed his face against the glass.

He really needed to at least get to the final. There were smaller cash prizes for all finalists and the publicity from the competition would do wonders for his little bakery.

“How’s it going?” Triss Merigold, one of the presenters asked.

He shrugged. “Not much I can do until it’s finished baking. It always goes much faster when you’re watching this at home.”

Triss laughed. “Clever editing.”

“I just hope I’ve done enough,” he sighed. “Maybe I can charm the judges with my guitar skills instead…”

“Ah yes, they said you play. Is that a hobby?” Triss asked with forced politeness.

Jaskier scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah. Well, I wanted to play as a kid. I was going to be the next John Lennon but you know how it is. My gran taught me how to bake and I became addicted. I still write my own songs for my YouTube channel though.”

“Wow! That’s amazing!” Triss made it sound like the least amazing hobby on the planet.

Luckily the oven timer went off at that moment and Jaskier was able to crack on. He pricked the brownies to make sure they were cooked through before setting it aside to cool. Whilst they were cooling he grabbed his tray of sugar decorations and the orange slicer.

“Bakers! You have five minutes!” Triss called out.

“Oh bollocks!” He groaned. He wasn’t going to have enough time to let it cool before decorating. Luckily the brownies tasted better warm but they were also harder to get out of the tin in one piece. He whined pitifully but dug a knife around the edge of the tin before slicing the brownies into the neatest rectangles he could manage. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

The camera man glared at him for swearing but he just stuck his tongue out. He was stressed, he was allowed to fucking swear! They were crumbling in his hands as he moved them to the plates. He cleaned up the crumbs as best as he could before showering them with edible glitter. He arranged the baked orange decorations as best he could so they looked slightly less terrible and then finally delicately placed the spun sugar on the top, only breaking two of the little shits in his hands.

“And stop!” Triss yelled and all the bakers stood back from their stations.

Valdo Marx was smiling smugly. His winter spiced cake looked fucking fantastic. On his other side stood Priscilla. She’d made cupcakes that were elegantly decorated to look like snowflakes, each one slightly different and beautiful. Next to Priscilla was Essi Daven. Her chocolate Yule Log looked amazing, Jaskier almost believed it was a real log.

Oh he was so going out.

He sighed and plastered a fake smile on his face as Yennefer Vengerberg re-entered the room.

“Time’s up bakers. You are apparently the best of the best but only three of you will make the final round. My expectations are high. I’m sure you’ll disappoint.” She smirked at them, violet eyes flashing dangerously. “Sadly, it is not only me that you must impress with these bakes.”

Jaskier felt his eyes widen. Shit, he’d forgotten that they brought in a second judge in this round. The bakers never knew who would be until they were introduced but it was always a famous chef and Jaskier suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“Please welcome, my ex-husband… Geralt.”

Jaskier let out a pitiful whimper as Geralt fucking Rivia entered the room. The man was only his celebrity crush. He would be fine. It was going to be fine and holy shit he was even more gorgeous in real life.

Fuck.

“Now, as I am sure you are all away, Geralt and I have never once agreed on anything except our daughter. So this promises to be fun.” Yen drawled sarcastically.

Geralt chuckled and crossed his arms in front on his chest. He was wearing a tight black t-shirt and Jaskier’s entirely life was suddenly just Geralt’s arms.

They were so big.

“That is precisely why I was invited, Yen,” Geralt muttered with a fond smile. “Evens out the vote.”

“My vote is fine on its own.”

“Hmm. We’ll see.”

Jaskier zoned out the rest of the conversation as the other bakers made their way to the front to be judged. He was too entranced by the god stood before him. The long silver hair that was pulled up into a bun, revealing the oh so sexy undercut. Jaskier watched Geralt’s lips part as he tasted one of Priscilla’s cupcakes. He got some frosting stuck on the corner of his lips and Jaskier desperately wanted to help him lick it off, but instead Geralt’s tongue flicked out to catch it. Jaskier was weak.

He zoned back in long enough to notice with great satisfaction that Valdo’s cake was under-baked and a little bit shit, not even holly could save it. So Jaskier was still in with a chance, and then it was his turn. He was hoping the brownies would still be warm. If they’d cooled down too much then his presentation would probably fuck him over.

“Buttercup?” Yennefer raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “If you could stop drooling over my ex for two seconds, tell us about your… brownies?”

Jaskier’s fingers flexed and he tugged nervously at the edge of his shirt. “Ah yes. Umm. Hi,” He stammered and blushed as Geralt winked at him. “Brownies, orange. Chocolate orange brownies,” he swallowed and ran a hand through his hair. “I used dark chocolate mostly but there are chocolate orange chunks in there too, any orange flavoured chocolate is good. Orange zest, orange juice and umm.. oh ah, orange liqueur.”

“Aren’t you concerned the orange will overpower the chocolate?” Yen asked sharply.

Jaskier shrugged. “I make these every year. They sell well at the bakery.”

“Smells good,” Geralt noted.

“The presentation is shocking,” Yennefer countered.

“Yeah,” Jaskier admitted with a sheepish smile “but I can do better. If you give me a chance.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re running out of chances.”

“Yeah but I’m cute.” The words fell from his lips before he could stop them. He clapped his hand over his mouth and blush furiously. “I am so sorry!”

“Hmm.”

“Let’s just taste them shall we?” Yen suggested.

Jaskier nodded, still hiding behind his hands. “Please.” He felt a hand on his shoulder and he yelped.

“Relax, Jaskier,” Geralt murmured in a low voice.

Jaskier’s blush deepened and he smiled up at Geralt. Oh those eyes were like honey, so warm and inviting. There was still a small smudge of frosting on his lips that Jaskier hadn’t noticed before but now he couldn’t stop staring. He wondered if Geralt tasted as sweet as he looked. “Thanks, Geralt.”

“Geralt, stop flirting and taste the freaking brownie.”

“Yes, dear,” Geralt sighed.

Geralt took a bite of his brownie and fucking moaned. A quiet whimper escaped Jaskier’s lips. God he was going to melt on national television but he didn’t care. He’d had a chance to meet his favourite celebrity and Geralt had liked his baking! It was honestly life goals. The only thing he had left to tick off was his wedding to Geralt by the coast. That had always seemed like an unreachable fantasy that helped him sleep at night but now Geralt was right in front of him… it didn’t seem quite so far away.

“Fuck,” Geralt moaned. Jaskier chuckled, that would have to be beeped out in the final cut. “This is amazing!”

Yennefer looked surprised as she tried her own forkful of brownie. “Not bad, buttercup. Not bad at all. It melts in your mouth.”

“And the orange is actually subtler than I expected.” Geralt gave him a fond smile and Jaskier had to remind himself how to breathe.

“Ah, umm. Thanks, Thank you, Geralt.”

“It looks like dirt,” Yennefer said cooly “but it tastes heavenly. Presentation has always been your weakness, Jaskier.”

Jaskier’s eyes widened. Yennefer hadn’t called him ‘Jaskier’ since the first round when Triss had mentioned it was Polish for buttercup. “I know. I know!” He whined.

“If you get through to the final then you will fail miserably unless you can change that,” she added with a raised eyebrow.

“Taste won’t save you, no matter how cute you are,” Geralt smirked.

“I know. Wait hang on what?!” Jaskier stammered at Geralt’s words.

“You did good, buttercup. Well done.” Yennefer said firmly and rolled her eyes. “We’re done here.”

“Thank you, Yennefer, Geralt,” He nodded, definitely not still blushing as his gaze landed back on Geralt. “Thank you.”

____________

Jaskier screamed into the cushions as he threw himself down on the sofa. He’d fucking done it! He was in the final! He’d never imagined in a million years! Not to mention that Geralt Rivia thought he was cute. He wondered if he would be able to get Geralt’s autograph or whether that was just weird considering he was one of the judges.

“Jaskier?”

Jaskier rolled over so he could see Geralt, forgetting that the sofa wasn’t that wide and falling onto the floor. “Oh fuck!”

“Are you alright?” Geralt asked as he came over to help him stand up. Jaskier gripped Geralt’s forearm as he was pulled to his feet.

All other thoughts left his mind as he stared at the muscles in Geralt’s arms.

“Arms…” He blurted out. “I mean! Shit. Umm, oh god.”

Geralt just laughed and steadied him on his feet. “Look, I wanted to ask…. once the show is over and I’m no longer a judge. Did you want to get dinner?”

Jaskier gaped at Geralt. “I’m sorry what?”

“Unless I’ve completely misread the situation. Fuck. Sorry. Look you can say no, I won’t score you worse because of it,” Geralt paled and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “We’ll pretend this never happened.”

“No, Geralt wait!” Jaskier grabbed his arm. “Yes, ask me again after the final but yes. Dinner sounds great.”

Geralt smiled faintly and nodded. “Great.”

“Great,” Jaskier repeated. “It’s a date!”

Geralt nodded again. “I have to go. We shouldn’t be seen alone together until after the final.”

“Yeah, yeah. Of course.”

“Good luck, Jaskier.”

Jaskier grinned dopily as he watched Geralt walk away. It looked like Christmas magic was a real thing after all. “Yeah, you too.”

Wait. You too? Oh fuck it. _____________ Tag list: @alwenarin @slythnerd @davidtennan-t @flippinfricks @innocentcinnamonpun @marvagon @elliestormfound @geraskier-trashh @panerato @moonysourenza @artistsfuneral @victorieschild @hailhailsatan @wherethewordsare @havenoffandoms @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem @electricrituals @geralt-of-riviass @00qtee @kittynannygaming @stinastar @scribblesonmapleleaves @thecomfortofoldstorries @fontegagrilledcheese @anythinggoesfandoms @veritasrose @trickstermoose67 @nonegenderleftpain @ohheytheremiss @kueble @love-more-today-than-yesterday @kozkaboi

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #yennefer of vengerberg #jaskier pankratz #triss merigold #modern au #christmas prompt #wolfie's witcher writing #ramenyul #winter prompts

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annelizabethwrites · 2 years ago

Text

Pairings: Roger Taylor X OC (Scarlett Walker); George Harrison X OC (Star Walker)

Rating: Mature (See Notes, Muses & Warnings for the actual warnings)

POV: Scarlett, Star

Warning: mentions of abuse, stabbing, and PTSD

Wattpad||AO3|| Playlists||Table Of Contents

♕☮︎︎♕☮︎︎♕☮︎︎♕☮︎︎♕☮︎︎♕☮︎︎♕☮︎︎♕☮︎︎♕☮︎

July 1st, 1969- Scarlett POV

Kelly put me on a top-secret project for my first thing as COO. The lads are still on a break from Abbey Road. George officially moved in and is legally a single man. John went to Scotland with Yoko, Julian, and Yoko's five-year-old daughter Kyoko, for a holiday, and they left on the 29. When I returned from Liverpool, I got the somewhat exciting news that Elaina and Tim had started their relationship back up for the 5th time since 1965. Smile has been getting big, and Roger has taken me on dates. On June 26th, we drove back to Liverpool for an annual service for my dad, and this year, Sandy's water broke during the service. Later that day, Sandy gave birth to Steven John Walker. My friend group also has two new guys, Milo and Thomas, both are old friends of Elaina's. Tim wasn't excited at first because they were flirtatious with each other. Elaina explained to him that Milo and Thomas are like how Star and I are to him, which quickly eased him. I'm still working in Kelly's office while mine is getting furnished and fixed since Anne wrecked it. I was working on the project when I got a nervously rapid knock on the door.

"Come in," Kelly and I yelled. Star and Cynthia ran in, and Star turned on the radio.

"What are you doing?" I asked as Star changed the channel.

"Breaking News: John Lennon crashed his car in Scotland with his wife, Yoko Ono, child, Julian Lennon, and stepchild, Kyoko Cox," The news reporter stated, "This crash has been just announced and no further updates yet."

My heart dropped. God, I hope they're all okay.

"We have to go," I looked at Cynthia and Star.

"The next flight is in 3 more hours," Cynthia stated.

"Use my plane, I don't use it, and you can get there faster than a normal plane," Kelly suggested.

"Are you sure?" Star asked.

"Yes, stop standing here and go," Kelly pushed us out. We all got into Star's car, and I gave Star the directions to the plane site. As soon as we got on the plane we all tried to stay calm, the flight was an hour and forty minutes. We kept the radio on to listen in on what was happening. Cynthia was freaking out about Julian's safety. Star and I freaked out for John and Julian. Soon as we landed, we rushed to Golspie's Lawson Memorial Hospital.

"Hello, I'm looking for John Lennon and his family?" I asked the secretary.

"Sorry, onl-" the secretary turned to see Star and me. "Oh my god, you're the Beatle Twins! He is in room 104."

"Thank you," I smiled, and we started to walk to the room, but Cynthia stopped.

"He doesn't want to see you, hun. He told us when he came in," the secretary pointed to Cynthia.

"You guys go. I'll try to find Julian," Cynthia told us. Star and I ran to John's room. Soon as we walked in, John had stitches on his face, and he was shocked to see us. Star and I ran to John and hugged him.

"Oh, thank god you're okay," We sighed in relief. Then we pulled out from the hug, and I punched John in the arm, "You scared us, you asshole. You made me think we lost you!"

"Please, a small car crash won't take me down, Walker," John rubbed the spot I punched him. We saw no Julian, no Yoko, and no Kyoko.

"John. Where is Julian, Yoko, and Kyoko?" I looked at John.

"Where's George and Roger?" John asked with a bit of sass, "You would think your boyfriends would go to Scotland with you."

Star and I looked at each other. I forgot to tell Roger we were heading to Scotland, and by the look on Star's face, she failed to tell George.

"Did you guys forget to tell your boyfriends that you were going to Scotland?" John started to laugh.

"Not now, Lennon. Where are the other three people you came with?" I asked John.

"Julian is with my aunt Mater in Durness. Kyoko and Yoko are in different rooms," John told me, "I love you guys, but why are you in Scotland?"

"We heard about the crash," Star started.

"And we came here as fast as possible," I explained.

"Aw, all just for me," John fluttered his eyes, "You guys shouldn't have."

"We thought we would lose our older brother-" I explained.

"There is no way we would just stay in London and sit around," Star cut me off.

"Come here," John put his arms out for another hug, we hugged him back, and the doctor came in.

"Sorry, no one but family is allowed here," the doctor said, thinking we're fans.

"We are family," I assured the doctor.

"What is the relation?" the doctor asked.

"Sisters," John responded, "Doc, these are my little sisters, Scarlett and Star."

"Okay, Mr. Lennon, I want you to stay here for a few days." The doctor started, then looked at Star and me, "Will you be picking up the Lennons when they get discharged?"

"Yes," Star and I responded.

"Okay, We will stay in touch. Before you leave, give us your numbers, so we know how to contact you two," The doctor said, then walked out. Star and I remember that we left Cynthia in the lobby. We told John we would call him when we returned to London and left. We went to John's aunt to get Julian. We knocked on the door, and Mater answered the door. Julian ran over to us.

"Mama! Auntie Scar! Auntie Star!" He ran over and hugged all three of us at the same time.

"Are you okay, Jul? Are you hurt?" Cynthia asked as I was holding him really tight. He nodded while digging his head in his mother's neck. We walked in and hugged Mater. I told Mater everything from the hospital. Cynthia, Star, and I all decided to leave tomorrow morning. Once everything settled down, I quickly called Roger's market to see if he was there. After a few rings, someone picked up.

"Hello?" I could tell it was Freddie.

"Hey Rocky, it's me. Is Roger there?" I asked.

"Oh, Hey Carla. No. Roger told me he went to the studio since you weren't at work."

"Okay, great, thanks," I hung up and dialed the studio's number.

"Abbey Road Studios, how can I help you?" I heard.

"Hello, may I speak to one of the guests there? He goes by Roger Taylor or one of the Beatles."

"May I ask who is calling?"

"Scarlett Walker."

"Yeah, one moment, please," I was put on hold for a few minutes, then I heard someone pick up the line.

"Scarlett, where the hell are you?!" Roger panicked.

"Scotland," I answered.

"Why the hell are you there?"

"John got into an accident. Star, Cynthia, and I rushed here with help from Kelly."

"Is everyone okay?"

"Yeah, John, Yoko, and Yoko's daughter got stitches and are still in the hospital. We're bringing Julian home tomorrow."

I heard sounds from the background and voices, then a "Move over."

"Hello?" I heard George.

"Hey, Hazza," I smiled.

"Scarlett?! Is Star with you?! Where are you guys?!"

"Yes, Star is with me. We're in Scotland because Lenny got into a car accident."

"Is he okay?" I heard Paul in the background.

"Am I on speakerphone?" I asked.

"Yes, but not the point. Is John okay?" Paul asked again.

"Lenny is fine, Yoko and her daughter are fine, and Julian is coming home with us tomorrow," I started to twirl the line, "Can someone do me a favor?"

"What, Lottie?" Ringo replied.

"We left Star's car at the place, but I'm sure we left the car unlocked, and Star realized she didn't have her keys with her," I started, "Can someone just pick it up before it gets stolen?"

"I got it," I heard George say, "Can I talk to her?"

"Yeah, sure," I put my hand on the phone, "Star! George is on the phone and wants to talk to you."

I heard a bang, guessing she fell, then ran over to me.

"Give me the phone," she demanded.

Star's POV

"Hello?" I answered, shooing Scarlett away. Scarlett rolled her eyes, made kissy noises, and then walked away after I flipped her off.

"So Scotland, Eh? I thought you would go to Paris at the last minute." George joked.

"Still a place in Europe," I smiled and bit my lip, "But I would've taken you to Paris. Sorry I didn't tell you."

"I'm just glad you're okay." George started, "Your work called me. They said you left two hours ago and couldn't get a hold of you. It gave me a Panic attack, then Roger came in saying Scarlett has been missing too."

"Sorry I freaked you out. I was going to call while we were waiting for our plane, but then Kelly offered her jet. We didn't think about anything else besides what was happening in Scotland," I looked around, "So how's the first session back for the new album?"

"We only recorded one song. How is John?"

"Got stitches. Yoko got the most damage. She has a problem with her back."

"How about the kids?"

"Julian just has shock while Yoko's daughter got stitches."

"Glad everyone is okay."

"Well, when John gets discharged, Scar and I must return to Scotland if you want to come?"

"Jeez, invite me the next time," I heard George laugh. I felt this flutter come to me, causing a blush, "Well, I was going to take you on a date tonight, but how about tomorrow when you land."

"Well, I'll love to go, but we just have to drop Cyn, Julian, and Scarlett first."

"Or, I can drive up in Scarlett's new 1967 Orange Plymouth Roadrunner that got dropped off and have Scarlett drive her gifted car."

"Wait, it did?! No, John would be pissed if we gave it to her and he wasn't there. Plus, she hasn't gotten her license yet."

"You have a point. I'll figure it out. So what are you doing?"

"I was on the couch, trying to have Julian sleep. I bet you, Scarlett got him to sleep."

"Oh, no doubt," I could hear George trying to hide his laughter, "But Ringo said Zak loves you more than Scarlett."

"What are you doing?" I softly asked.

"Talking to my love while the others are leaving," he yawned.

"Go home and sleep. You sound tired."

"But I want to talk to you, and I can't sleep without you," George whined through the phone. I couldn't help but smirk and shake my head, "I hope you know I can feel the smirk from over the phone."

"How did-"

"I just know, love."

I looked at my watch and realized it was 10:50. I heard yawning from the other line.

"Geo, it's almost eleven at night. Go home and go to bed. Scarlett wants us to leave at 7, and tomorrow I am all yours," I heard him groan over the phone, "I love you."

"I love you too. Good night, love."

"Good night, love."

July 2nd, 1969

Scarlett woke us up earlier than she told us. Before we boarded the plane, I called George to let him know Scarlett made us leave an hour earlier than expected. Julian fell back asleep between Scarlett and Cynthia. The hour and forty minutes were brutal. To be completely honest, I didn't sleep at all last night. Every time I did, I would wake up from a nightmare. I got some sleep but kept on waking up due to a nightmare. We finally landed. Cynthia grabbed Julian with one arm and his bag in the other. We walked out to see Roger and George talking. I didn't know Roger was coming. Julian saw the two men, signaled he wanted to be put down then ran over to them. Julian hugged George first, then gave Roger a hug; Roger looked pretty surprised that Julian hugged him. I walked up to hug George.

"Hi," I blissfully sighed.

"Hi," George kissed me. I smirked, biting my lip, and we gazed into each other's eyes.

"Ewww, why is everyone doing mushy stuff?" Julian closed his eyes. I looked at Scarlett and Roger, who had arms around each other. I quickly walked over and kneeled to Julian.

"Don't like mushy stuff, do you, Jul?" I asked.

"No, Daddy does mushy stuff with my Step-mum," Julian scrunched his face, "They're really mushy during the trip."

"Your daddy used to get really mushy with your mama-" I felt someone backhand me. I turned around to see Scarlett giving me a look, "Anyways, when people love each other, they get all mushy. Some day you will meet a girl that will give you the mushy feeling."

"I would never get mushy. It's gross," Julian scrunched his face again.

"You say that now little Lennon?" I started to tickle him. He laughed and asked if I could pick him up. I walked him to the car to put him in his seat as Cynthia put his bag in. It was George's car, and I gave Julian a hug and a kiss on his head.

"Alright, little man, I must drive my car back to my place. I will see you soon." I messed with his hair.

"Bye, Auntie Star," He hugged me with a gloomy tone. I backed out of the car as Cynthia went in. I went into my car, sat in the passenger seat, leaned on George, and smiled, "Where to?"

"It's a surprise," George kissed my forehead, "While we're driving, you can tell me all about Scotland."

"Don't get me started on how John got into the accident," I sighed, "He decided to drive then lost control of the car."

"Why was he driving? He drives like shit."

"Exactly."

"But Yoko has a back injury and has a long recovery."

"So will John be in and have her lay down, or will he work from home?"

"Who knows at this point," I sighed, "How was everything around here?"

"We only got one song done, and I have to go back today," George sighed, "So, after my surprise, I'm dropping you off since you looked exhausted and going to the studio."

"I'm not tired," I yawned.

"That yawn says otherwise," George smiled, "Did you sleep last night?"

"No, I naturally kept getting nightmares since it's the first week of July," I sighed, "It was never the happiest week of my life."

"I know. I witnessed it," George grabbed my hand. We stopped at the diner where we had our first date, "Well, I would take you to Bouestin because I know you like the food there, but I thought you probably want diner pancakes."

"I do, thank you," I smiled, we walked in, and everyone looked at us and whispered. It doesn't help that I'm in my work clothes from yesterday and look like I pulled an all-nighter lying in bed. We got our seats and ordered breakfast than I saw three familiar faces, Theo, Aaron, and Caroline. Caroline noticed me and walked over, "Star, where did you go yesterday!"

"Scotland." I smiled.

"Why the bloody hell were you in Scotland?" Aaron looked at me.

"Yeah, Boss wasn't so happy with you leaving and Cecilia already being out for a holiday," Theo looked at me, "I had to work late and miss my date with Maddie."

"So sorry," I rubbed my face.

"Are you coming in today?" Carlone asked, "You look like shit, so I want to say no."

"Thanks, Care," I laughed, "No, I'll call him when I get home and tell him why I left."

"Why did you?" Aaron asked.

"John got into a car accident, and I, my sister, and John's ex-wife went to Scotland last minute to see what happened."

"They didn't tell me or Scarlett's boyfriend, Roger," George added.

"Oh my god, is John Okay?" Aaron asked.

"Yes," I smiled, then Aaron realized George, and I was on a bit of a date. He gave me a smirk and then dragged the other two out of the diner.

"So my boss will probably make me write a story," I sighed.

"You're probably right," George laughed. I smiled, bit my bottom lip, and shook my head, "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?" I asked.

"Bite your lip when you smile."

"I don't know. I always did that. I sometimes do it when I get shy or nervous."

"It's cute," George smiled as our food came out, and we started talking.

Scarlett's POV

Today is the eighth anniversary of Nancy stabbing me and me getting the scar on my back. Roger drove me home but stopped at the premier to buy both of us breakfast. We got to my flat, I quickly changed into my pajamas, and we ate breakfast on the couch.

"You alright? You seem on edge," Roger asked.

"Yeah, today's the anniversary of when I got my scar on my back... it's been eight years," I took a sip of my milkshake.

"Oh, sorry," Roger muttered.

"It's alright. As I said, it's been eight years," I shrugged. We watched whatever was on the television, but I put on cartoons as a child. I love the looney tunes. Roger and I finished our breakfast and then cuddled up on the couch.

"Little Wolf?" Roger called out.

"Hm?" I looked up at him.

"I know it's probably not the best time to ask, but my mum wants to know if you could come over for dinner on Friday? So she can properly meet you, I know it's probably not the best right now, and I can tell her no if you want," Roger started to ramble on as I just put my finger over his lips.

"I can go," I softly said.

"But what about the family night?" Roger asked.

"We're probably not going to do a family night. John's in Scotland. I don't mind missing one to meet your family if there is one," I smiled. Roger moved my hair and gently kissed me.

"I love you," Roger crooned.

"I love you too," I breathlessly smiled.

July 4th,1969- Star's POV

I woke up in George's arm and could feel his gaze.

"Stop staring. It's weird," I mumbled. I think that is the most used sentence we say to each other.

"It's not weird looking at my girl," George smiled.

"When I'm sleeping, it is," I cuddled closer to him, "I don't want to get out of bed."

"Neither do I," George kissed me on top of the head, "But you have work, and I have to be at the studio at 2:45."

"I don't have work today. Boss told me that since I stayed up late at work, I can have the day off to sleep," I smirked, "So I am all yours until 2, and it is 7:45 now."

"Why do we wake up so early?"

"I don't know," I giggled, "But I don't mind it because I got some time with you before work."

"Well. I'm not complaining," George leaned towards me and kissed me. He looked at me, then at my cameras, "Stay right here."

I got confused as he got up to grab my polaroid camera, walked back then sat on my feet. He started to point the camera at me. I giggled a bit as he tried to get the camera right. George finally took the picture. The flash blinded me; the picture came out of the printer portation. He grabbed the shot, jumped back next to me, and started to shake it so the ink could make the picture. Once the picture showed up, this glare line was on the side. I looked at George, who had a 'Are serious' look on his face looking at the picture.

"I can't see your pretty eyes in this picture," George then looks at the photo and kisses my nose, "but it still shows your beauty."

"It looks good even though there is a glare," I smirked and grabbed my camera, "I probably forgot to clean the lenses before I put it back."

Scarlett's POV

I sat in Roger's car while playing with my ring. I was told I should tell Roger about my childhood all day, but I'm afraid to. Roger has some hint to it since we made references during the Liverpool trip, but he never asked about them, so I assumed he never heard the jokes. We're on our way for me to have dinner with his family, which doesn't feel any better.

"Little Wolf?" Roger looked at me, then back at the road.

"Hm?" I blinked, then looked at him.

"Are you alright? You've been playing with your ring while staring out," Roger asked.

"Yeah... well, no... I've been meaning to talk to you about something," I coughed. Like ripping off a bandaid, yeah?

"What's wrong, love? Are you breaking-"

"No, no, oh god, no." My eyes widened when I took a deep breath, "Remember when I told you about my depression and cutting, and I said there was this certain person that always made it hard?"

"Yeah, you didn't want to go any deeper into that, so I didn't push it," Roger shrugged, "Plus, the boys always told me to never ask about your childhood."

"Well, you kinda have to know now, since you stuck with me this long," I joked, "Well, my mum, Nancy, was the worst person in my life. She was the person that made it really hard. She was never home, and when she was... she was beating, cursing, and bringing down my siblings, my dad, and me. When I was eight, I got into trouble at school and got suspended for a couple of days when Nancy found out she had to actually watch me and be a mother for once in her life. She grabbed me out of bed and started to beat me, she almost beat me to the pulp, but my dad and sister stopped her before she could. That was the first time she hit me, far from the end. I finally snapped and fought back a few times, but it didn't end well for me in the long run."

"Sometimes, hearing glass shattering sets me off. Nancy used to throw plates, vases, and such at my siblings and me. She's also the one who stabbed me that caused the scar. I tried to protect Star, which I got in return. I'm always ashamed of it because I didn't fight her off hard enough. My brain will sometimes play mean tricks on me and give me flashbacks that set off anxiety attacks, PTSD, and depression episodes. That is also why I get nightmares or screams in my sleep. Even though she has been dead, she is still in my head."

"I know that's a lot to take in, and I'm sorry, I'm a real nut case..." I looked at my hands, not wanting to look up. It was quiet for a minute. I just looked down and fought back the tears. I noticed Roger's hand started to intertwine with one of mine then he brought it closer to him to kiss it again.

"How can I help you with them?" Roger asked.

"Just keep doing what you've been doing," I smirked as I leaned onto Roger.

"Thank you for telling me. I know that was hard for you," Roger smirked, "Also, Scarlett never apologized because of your mental health. It's not your fault nor a burden. I want to help you in any way, and I'm honored you told me. I hope I can help you because that's all I want. I want you to be happy, healthy, and feel safe and loved."

"I do feel all of those things... plus being in love," I smirked, "Thank you, really."

At the Taylor's...

Roger held the door open as I walked into his childhood home. I noticed pictures of Roger when he was little, some I've seen in my 2019 life while scrolling through Instagram, but most are unseen photos. I admired the pictures while Roger grabbed his mother and sister. I heard chattering and smelt the dinner that his mother had cooked for the four of us. I turned to see the three Taylors looking at me. One is the comfortable soft gaze as the two examined me. Roger walked over to kiss me on the cheek before breaking the awkwardness of the three women in the room.

"Mum, Clare, this is my girlfriend, Scarlett. Scarlett, meet my mum Winifred and my sister Clare," Roger introduced us.

"Hello Scarlett, it's lovely to meet you, dear," Winifred walked over to hug me, "Roger is always talking about you."

"Talking? More like whining for a month because you caught him snogging another woman," Clare looked at me, "I like you already."

"Whining for over a month?" I asked.

"Clare!" Roger and Winifred both yelled before Winifred coughed and looked at me, "Why don't we eat? You two must be hungry from a long drive."

Roger led me to the dining room. He pulled me out of a seat, and once he pulled my chair in, he kissed my cheek, then sat next to me. Winifred made this beautiful meal. The first few minutes were awkwardly quiet.

"So, Scarlett, do you have siblings?" Winifred asked.

"Yes, I have eight, six brothers, two sisters," I answered.

"Eight? What are their names?" Winifred looked at me.

"My oldest sibling is my sister Venessa. Then it goes down the line of my honorary brothers Stu, Richie, John, Paul, and George, then my twin, Star, is the baby." I explained, "I call my honorary brothers my brothers because I think the word honorary downgrades them."

"Are you close with them?"

"Eh, a bit. I'm closest with my twin than anything. Then my four brothers, John, Richie, Paul, and George, then Stu, Payton, and Venessa. Stu lives in Germany while Payton and Venessa are still in my hometown Liverpool."

"You're from Liverpool?" Clare looked at me.

"Yeah, scouser born and raised," I spoke with my scouse accent merging with my central London accent.

"When did you move out of Liverpool?" Winifred asked.

"1963. I lived with my brother John until I was 20. My dad died when I was 14, and my brother John has inherited my twin and me."

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry. What about your mother?"

"Scarlett, uh- doesn't have a mother," Roger coughed to keep me comfortable.

"She was around but wasn't my mum. The only mothering thing she never did was birth to my siblings and me," I explained.

"I'm sorry. But I get that Roger doesn't have a good relationship with his dad. It's best when he's not around," Winifred grinned as both Taylor siblings acted distant once their father was mentioned. I know Roger will tell me when he's ready, but it's my job to make him comfortable. I weaved my hand with Roger and leaned over to kiss him. Roger turned red with nerves. We changed the subject since we all had a mutual understanding that family is a touchy subject for us all.

"Roger told me you work for Kelly Price. How is that? I don't know much about fashion." Winifred asked.

"It's good. Kelly is a sweetheart," I smiled. I don't know if they didn't realize my social status or pretended like they didn't. But either way, I enjoy having a conversation like a normal human being, not someone with my social group. I told them about how I got a promotion then we changed the subject to music.

"Do you play anything? Assuming you're around music a lot with Smile," Winifred asked.

"Yes, I know the piano, bass, and guitar," I listed, "I know the basics of drums, though. My brothers are in a band, and my dad was obsessed with music. So I'm always around music."

"Don't you ever get tired?" Winifred asked.

"No, not really. I love music. It's a part of me, I guess," I shrugged.

"Have you gone to concerts?" Clare asked.

"Many," I nodded.

"Who have you seen?" Clare asked.

"Oh y'know, Beatles, Stones, The Who, and all kinds of people like that," I explained.

"Who's your favorite?"

"I have to say my favorite was Elvis. I saw him in this secret gig. My sister freaked out; she loves Elvis. I would say the Beatles, but I've seen them enough times. I got sick of them," I shrugged. Once we finished dinner, Clare grabbed my hand and took me to Roger's old room. It had all kinds of posters on his wall and his old school books.

"His favorite Beatles Twin poster is over his bed," Clare pointed as I sat on his bed and looked up to see my 1964 promo poster. I cringed from the look. When Star and I just got our Beatle Twins titles, Brian Epstein got Star and me to do a photoshoot and send out promo pictures, posters, etc. So the media knew who we were. Epstein thought if the girls loved the lads and the boys loved Star and me, that would create a bigger platform for the Beatles, which did work out in his favor.

"Roger loves the brown-headed one; I always mix the two." Clare told me as she looked up, "Her name is Scarlett Walk- Oh My God, You're Roger's celebrity crush! You're the Scarlett Walker like Beatles twin Scarlett Walker!" Clare looked at me.

"Clare, keep your voice down," Roger leaned onto his door frame.

"You're dating pop culture royalty!" Clare stood up, "Plus, your celebrity crush! I have to tell mum."

Clare ran downstairs before Roger and I had a word edge-wise, but the two of us chucked, and Roger walked over to his bed to sit next to me.

"Do you think they liked me before the Beatles Twin thing came out?" I asked.

"My mum told me she loves you," Roger kissed my nose.

"Clare told me you have a thing for the brunette Beatles twin. Usually, people love the blonde one more," I teased.

"Eh, the brunette twin is hotter and more interesting," Roger cupped my face, "And smart, and very underestimated. But I can see this desire to break out of the goodie two shoe label, but she seems to struggle to get out."

"She is a bit stuck. Her sister owns the wild crown," I looked into his eyes.

"I'm sure I can help you out there," Roger moved his hand and started to stroke my chin.

"That's hard because I'm supposed to be the calm one."

"Darling, how are you the calm one when you're constantly on the verge of a mental breakdown because you just shove everything down."

"I'm the most relied on. I'm not supposed to fuck up. I'm the one everyone goes to."

"I know, but that will be your downfall one day."

"I know." I sighed. I love Roger because he sees me, not the lie I put out for everyone. Only a select few can see who I actually am. Star being one of them, next is George. He always had that ability to see your best self. Of course, my other siblings also see who I actually am, but most of them just fall for the lie. John never did. I guess he can see if I am bullshitting or not for the time we spent together. John is one of the only brothers that doesn't have that unique ability George has. He can only tell if I'm bullshitting, and when I'm not okay, he comes and talks until I am. Roger can see the real me and sense and know what I sincerely want. It's to the point where I don't even realize what I want until Roger helps me fulfill the unknown desire or need. He truly connects and understands me on a level I never felt with anyone else. And it feels fantastic.

"We should go back down. My mum and Clare probably think we're fucking up here," Roger joked as I giggled.

"Probably," I giggled.

July 5th, 1969- Scarlett's POV

My head is in the crook of Roger's neck, and his arms are around my waist, pulling me closer to him. I was comfortably sleeping in his embrace before I heard the phone go off. Eh, if it's important, they'll leave a message, call twice... or both. The phone stopped ringing for a brief second, then it started to ring again. I sighed, opened my eyes, wiggled out of Roger's embrace, and dragged myself over to the phone.

"Ello," I yawned.

"Hello, sorry to bother you but is this Scarlett or Star Walker?"

"Scarlett Walker here."

"I'm the doctor at Golspie's Lawson Memorial Hospital. I am calling about Mr. John Lennon."

"Yes, what did he do now?"

"Nothing. I want to say Mr. Lennon will get discharged today with his wife and stepchild."

"Okay, um, we will be there soon as we can."

"Okay, thank you."

I hung up the phone and called Kelly.

"Hello," Kelly answered.

"Hey, can I borrow the jet again?" I asked.

"John's coming back?" Kelly yawned

"Yes," I rubbed my eyes, "They just called."

"Yeah, I'll call the pilot."

"I owe you one."

"Not really. Bye, Scar."

"Bye, Kels."

I walked into Star and George's room, the two were all cuddled up, but I still could wake up Star by torturing her, and George not feeling a thing. I walked over and started to slap Star's face, more like a tap. She loves me, I swear.

"What?" Star whined, hitting my hand away.

"Get up. We gotta go to Scotland to get Johnny-boy," I pulled my hand away.

"Can we leave him there?" Star asked, shifting her position to get cuddly with George.

"Sadly no. George, Paul, and Ringo probably need him soon as possible," I looked at her.

"She's right," George mumbled.

"Fine," Star sighed, starting to wake up.

"Thank you, we're using Kelly's jet, so we're in no rush, really," I shrugged, walking out. I walked back into my room, and Roger had drilled half his face into my pillow. I smirked, walking over to him so I could crawl on top of him and start to move his golden locks to see his face. I plant soft kisses along his jawline and neck.

"Baby," I soothed as Roger hummed, enjoying every kiss.

"Yes, my Little Wolf?" Roger opened his blue eyes that Immediately focused on me as soon as they opened.

"I have to go to Scotland today. If you wanna come?" I giggled as Roger's hand gently stroked up and down my back.

"Ooh, I got invited and told the second time," Roger joked as I rolled next to him.

"Real funny," I rolled my eyes as Roger pulled him closer to him and kissed my temple.

"I would love to come," Roger gently said.

"Okay," I turned and moved a piece of his hair. He's growing his hair into his famous mullet that every 2019 fan has the hots over. Roger softly grabbed my hand and softly kissed it, "We have to get ready now."

Roger groaned as I got out of bed and looked through my clothes. I could feel Roger's eyes on me. I pulled out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and then looked at Roger.

"Yes?" I smirked at him.

"Nothing," Roger got out of my bed and walked over to give me a quick kiss, "You just look gorgeous."

"Thank you," I smiled at him as Roger grabbed a change of clothes since he's been leaving some extra things of clothes here, then walked out while closing the door. I changed into a white T-shirt with Good Times written in blue and jeans with blue high tops converse. I have a lot of different colors of converse and gogo boots, those two are the only shoes I can work with, but I have a few other shoes besides those two. I walked out of my room as Roger walked out of the bathroom. Star and I walked into the bathroom to brush our teeth. Elaina followed Star and me to the bathroom. She was trying for Star to let her borrow her car because Elaina totaled her car the other day with her reckless driving.

"It's not like you're going to use it today," Elaina begged as Star started to brush her teeth, "You'll be in Scotland."

"Not for the whole day," Star said with a mouthful of toothpaste.

"Depends if John wants to quickly visit Mater before we leave," I grabbed my toothbrush and started to brush my teeth.

"But please, can I borrow your car?" Elaina asked.

"If you don't ruin my baby," Star spit out the toothpaste foam.

"I thought Geo was your baby?" Elaina asked.

"He is, but I didn't spend 22,874 Pounds on him," Star looked at Elaina.

"You spent that much on your car?!" Elaina asked in shock

"Yes, I got a few thousand off because I was a Beatles twin, and they offered to switch the driver's side to the UK side for free," Star walked out with Elaina following her. George and Roger came in.

"Did I hear correctly that Star spent £22,874 on her car?" Roger asked, "How did she get that much money?"

"We inherited much money from our dad when we were 18. She spent that money on her car," I spat out the toothpaste foam.

"Yeah, I remember John flipping out because he said no to her buying the car," George laughed. I walked out to Star, giving Elaina the rules and regulations of her car. After a few more minutes of watching Star tell Elaina if she crashes Star's car, she should consider a lock on her door, we started to leave.

"Don't make me regret it!" Star said, throwing the keys at her as we were leaving.

"I won't!" Elaina called out as we were closing the door on her.

Star's POV (Later...)

We successfully brought John back to London in one piece. He wanted to go to ours and invite the rest of the boys. Scarlett and I are in her bedroom as the Beatles play around with their guitars in the living room. Besides me, their partners are sitting around watching the kids play together. Scarlett and I are reading the series of our dad's journals. Back when my father was still alive, he had this journal. He got a new one every few months, but he always jotted down his life. When we used to ask what it was, he always responded with, "one day when I'm gone, you'll read the dumb shit I did." When he died, they couldn't be found until Scarlett and I were in the attic in Liverpool and found them along with the yearly photo album I took over. We got interrupted by the phone, and I got called by George that it was for me.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Hello, is this Ms. Walker?" Someone asked.

"Well, there's two living here. You need to be a bit more specific," I shrugged.

"Ms. Star Walker."

"Yep."

"Hello, I am officer Ward. Do you own a 1966 blue mustang convertible?"

"Yes."

"Do you know an Elaina Wilson?"

"Yes, she's one of my flatmates."

"I'm so sorry that Ms. Wilson crashed your mustang, She is alright, but the car is damaged."

"Hold one a second?" I put my hand over the receiver and cursed Elaina out. This was the one thing I told her not to fucking do!

"Ms. I can hear you." The officer said.

"Right, sorry, do I need to come to the station?" I rubbed my face.

"Yes, it would be recommended."

"Alright, thank you, officer," I hung up the phone and walked out, "Elaina. Crashed. My. Fucking. Car."

"Did she really?" Scarlett walks out, laughing.

"This is not funny," I looked at her, "I used most of the money dad gave me for that!"

"That sounds like your problem," Scarlett laughed, "She crashed her car yesterday. Did you seriously think she wouldn't do the same thing?"

"Ye-"

"It's Elaina we're talking about." Scarlett cut me off.

"Fuck," I sighed as Scarlett, and the other three laughed at me, "Anyways, I now have to go down to the station, Scarlett. You might not have a best friend after this."

"Don't kill her," Scarlett said as I started to walk out.

"No promises," I closed the door and stormed to Theo and Aaron's flat.

"Yes?" Aaron answered the door, "Why do I see a homicidal rage in your eyes?"

"Because my sister's stupid mate just crashed my baby," I blinked.

"And you're here; why?" Aaron asked.

"I'm looking at my ride," I smiled.

"Okay, this is my problem; why?" Aaron asked.

"Because I need to bring someone to make sure I don't murder El, and you would at least let me get the first punch in before backing me off," I shrugged.

"Alright, let's go," Aaron grabbed his keys, and we left. Aaron drove us to the station, and I saw Xaiver, Ryder, and Kit in their trainee uniforms. Near them was my poor baby destroyed. The front of the windshield is smashed, the front is pretty dented, and the back is smashed.

"I'm going to kill her," I blinked, looking at my poor baby.

"Damn, what did she do? Run through a fucking wall?" Aaron looked at my car, "That ain't a mustang. That's a clump of metal and broken glass."

"Done yet?" I looked at him.

"No," Aaron said, we got out of the car, and the three bozos looked at me.

"Spark, what are you doing here?" Xavier walked up to me.

"Trying my best not to kill my sister's best mate for doing that to my fucking car," I pointed to my car.

"Yeesh, on the good side, it could be fixed," Xavier looked at my car.

"What did she do? Run it through a wall?" Kit asked.

"That's what I said!" Aaron said.

"I'm going inside," I muttered, walking in and looking right at Elaina, then trotting over to her.

"What the hell did you do to my baby?!" I glared at Elaina, "The poor thing is destroyed!"

"Star, I am so, so sorry," Elaina apologized.

"What did you do?! You had one fucking job!" I glared.

"Ms. Walker?" a young man coughed, walking over.

"In the flesh," I breathed, "What happened to my car?"

"Ms. Wilson was under the influence of marijuana while driving and crashed it into a wall, but before she got hurt, she jumped out, and the car crashed into other cars," the officer started to explain, "The expenses are going to be a lot of work for the crash and-"

"Wait, who is paying these expenses?" I asked.

"It was your car, ma'am, and you're quite rich too," the officer looked at me.

"She's the one that crashed the car because she was under the influenced, and she caused the destruction," I pointed to Elaina, "It's not my fucking fault! She was the one fucking driving. She is the fucking one paying!"

"The hell I am!" Elaina looked at me, "Your car, and you're fucking rich!"

"You were driving under the influence and caused the crash!" I looked at her, "Therefore, you pay!"

"Tell her she's paying the expenses off." I looked at the officer, pointing to Elaina. I noticed Aaron, Jasper, Xavier, and Kit leaning against the wall, watching us and eating vending machine snacks.

"The hell I am!" Elaina looked at me.

"Please tell Ms. Wilson that she needs to pay for the fucking expenses from her fucking accident!" I ignored Elaina and looked at the officer.

"Ma'am, I need you to calm down," the officer stated

"No, I am not fucking calming the fuck down! She ruined my baby and someone else's property and got away with it!" I crossed my arms, "She should've gotten her license taken away with her first DUI and learned how to fucking drive before getting it back!"

"That is a good idea, Ms. Walker. Thank you for your feedback," the officer said, then pulled Elaina to talk to her.

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lennonknowsmysins · 4 years ago

Text

safety.

beatle: john

summary: you and john have been in a relationship since you started working for the band a few months ago. six months ago, you were raped by your former boss. on one fateful night, you have to tell john the truth.

tw: THIS FIC CONTAINS DISCUSSION OF RAPE, panic attack-ish

an: this fic is more intense than any of the others that i’ve written but it’s important to me for personal reasons that i won’t go into. writing this has been comforting to me and i hope that reading it will be so for you all.

It was the feeling of his hands.

Running down your back, gripping your hips, forcing your legs apart. Leaving bruises in his wake. Pushing your shoulders onto the bed as he climbed on top of you and pinned your wrists down. He was touching you, hurting you-

"Stop! Please, no!"

His hands were gone. The weight on top of you was gone.

With a whimper, you scampered off the bed, searching for a way out of the room. The soft flutter of a curtain caught the corner of your eye, alerting you of the balcony. You made a beeline for it, racing out the door only to stop in your tracks when you were met with the metal railing. You were enclosed, trapped, no way out. Frantically, you skittered around the balcony, desperate for a way out.

Then his voice came.

Not the voice that had tormented you for the past six months but the ones that had been a source of comfort for the past four. You'd heard it first on the radio, then when he'd hired you and now as he coaxed you off the balcony.

"(yn)" He called, his voice gentle.

You looked up from your cornered position.

John. You were in Paris with John Lennon. You trusted him, he wouldn't hurt you.

Shakily, you got to your feet, unsure of when you had sat down. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw the Eiffel Tower in the distance. Your memory steadily came back. John had invited you to come to Paris with him. He was here for a television interview tomorrow. There had been a social event thrown by the network hosting the interview and you and John had attended. It was the first time since the attack that you had allowed yourself to drink alcohol. Only one glass of champagne and only under the protect of John's arm lazily draped across your shoulders. Then the both of you had retreated back to your hotel room.

You had thought that you'd be fine with having sex again. For God's sake, you were in Paris with John fucking Lennon, you should be fine with having sex. But as soon as you felt his hand on your bare skin, moving up to unclasp your bra, you had been thrown back into your terror.

Now John was stepping towards you slowly, trying to inch you away from the ledge. He stretched his arms out, unsure of what to do, just desperate for you to step away from the railing. Hesitantly, you took a step towards him.

"That's it, birdie. It's okay, let's just go inside. It's cold out here, you must be freezing."

It was cold. You were shivering in just your bra and underwear. John's arms were warm and safe. You rushed into his hold, melting into him as he pulled you to his chest.

"John," You sobbed, letting him cradle you. You were vaguely aware of your knees buckling from under you but John was quick to catch you, carrying you back inside. He placed you on the bed as though he thought you would break if he wasn't gentle enough.

He murmured every comfort he could think of as he rummaged for his tee shirt, pulling it over you. Fingers, calloused from years of mastering the guitar, began to card through your hair. The feeling was nice, it almost made you sleepy. However, you forced your eyes to stay open, to stay trained John so that you knew that it was John touching you. His warm, brown eyes were filled with worry as he took you in, shaking like a leaf beneath him, your eyes filled with tears.

"'m sorry." You croaked, scratching at your knees.

John shook his head, thumb stroking your cheek, "'s alright, love, you don't need to apologize to me."

"No, no, I do. I thought I could do this but...but..." You trailed off, your words catching in your throat.

It was silent for a moment. Then John spoke, his voice steady but uneven.

"(yn), did something happen?"

Six months. It had been six months of pain, of trying to forget what happened. Six months and no one had asked you that.

You were tempted to say no. You didn't want to burden John with this. He was the most popular rock star in the world, he had his music, reputation, band to worry about. This was your beast to take on. But you'd been holding it in for so long, hoping to just forget about it. It had been so lonely, keeping it secret - keeping your hurt secret. And now John was asking you about it. From the meltdown you had just had, maybe you owed him an explanation. So you nodded.

"I was raped."

It was barely a whisper but John had understood. His stomach did a massive flip as his heart took a dive. Subconsciously, he could have seen it coming, not even just from your freak out. There had been smaller signs; sometimes you would flinch when someone touched you, rest a hand on your back or you'd stiffen when being hugged. Whenever unfamiliar male guests showed up at the studio, you were plastered to his side or nowhere in sight. You didn't like to be physically close to men, even the other lads. It had taken John a solid month to be able to hold your hand. You never wanted to stay out late, preferring to just make dinner yourself. The way you'd gripped onto him at George's birthday party when Paul had gotten completely wasted and mistaken you for Jane. To John, it had been funny but when he thought about it, you had been terrified. Close to tears even.

At first, he'd just assumed that you were a little shy and overwhelmed. You were just adjusting to living in London, working for the Beatles. It was an intense world to be in, especially when you were working closely with four boys who had no sense of boundaries.

Now he wondered how he could have been so blind.

How could he have just dismissed those signs, your little ticks and tremors? John Lennon wasn't normally one to admit when he was wrong but right now, sitting in front of you, watching as you made yourself as small as possible, he had no excuse for his ignorance.

When John stayed silent, you continued with a deep breath,

"I-It was six months ago. Just before I started working for you guys. I was interning for him, waiting for him to offer me a real job. He invited me to the opening of his friend's restaurant and I thought that maybe he was planning on finally officially hiring me, so, like an idiot, I went. Got all dressed up and everything." You let out a humor less snort, shaking your head as you looked down at your hands, playing with the hem of your shirt,

"There was bottomless champagne. Made me feel fancy and I drank a lot. I think he made sure of that. Then when I was too drunk to make my way home by myself, he took me back to his apartment and... he raped me."

You shivered thinking back on that night, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. Despite the fact that John's shirt practically went down to your knees, you felt as though you were naked and on display in front of John. You couldn't look at him, you couldn't meet those sad brown eyes. They'd be full of pity, horror, disgust, questioning why you hadn't told him. You were asking yourself that. It was out of you now, no longer sitting at the bottom of your belly and filling you with constant dread.

"Who was it. Who did this to you."

John wasn't giving you a question, he was giving you an order.

"Donny Groves. I haven't seen him since I ran out of his apartment."

He tried to make his fist clenching conspicuous, not wanting to frighten you anymore. He'd heard that name, Groves was growing more prominent as a producer. On top of being a rapist, of course.

"(yn), I'm so sorry." He murmured, not sure of what else to say.

You shrugged your shoulders, sniffling, "It's not your fault. You've helped a lot, actually. You make me feel safe."

"You are safe. You're safe with me. He'll never- no one, will ever hurt you again." His voice broke, tears threatening to well up in his eyes. His touch was light as a feather as he placed his hands on your shoulders, "And if that bastard so much as looks in your direction again, I'll beat him, I swear I'll-"

You cut him off with a kiss.

"Thank you for listening to me. I'm sorry for ruining your night." You said softly, placing your hands on his face. He pressed a kiss to your cheek, leaning his forehead against your's, his rage dissipating.

"You didn't ruin anything, love, it's alright."

“Except that I did,” You groaned, leaning back against the headboard and dropping your head in your hands, “I knew that you’d want to have sex tonight and I thought I could do this - I wanted to do this, I’ve been working up towards it - but I-I-I don’t know, I ruined it.”

John blinked, watching you retreat back into yourself for a moment. He crawled over to you and settled beside you on the bed, close enough for your shoulders to touch. He reached over and took your hand in his, looping his fingers around your’s.

“There’s more to relationships - to our relationship - than sex. It’s okay if you aren’t comfortable with having sex yet, we don’t have to do that yet.” He reassured you gently, “I feel better being able to help you than making you feel uncomfortable. Alright?”

You locked eyes with him, allowing the feeling of warmth to wash over you when his soft brown eyes met your’s. His expression was meaningful and you could tell that he wasn’t giving you moot.

“Alright. It honestly just feels a little better finally telling someone.” You whispered, leaning your head against his shoulder and closing your eyes. John hummed, sending a buzz through your body.

“Anytime you need to talk about anything. I know I’m a bit of a dud but I’m all ears. And I’ll say it again, no one is going to lay a finger on you so long as I can help it.”

For the first time since you were attacked, you were able to relax. John was safe, he was your safety and your comfort. You could trust him not to hurt you or let anyone else hurt you, even when the two of you were constantly in the spotlight.

“I love you, John.”

It was going to be a long and difficult road to recovering from what happened, if you ever did actually recover. You had been badly hurt and scarred. But so long as you had John by your side, then you would be okay.

“I love you too, (yn). More than anything.”

It will be okay.

#tw: rape #this was really hard to write at first but im so glad that i did #thank you all for reading and please feel free to reach out if youre going through this #john lennon x reader #the beatles x reader #beatles x reader #john #beatle belle #john lennon

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kalypsichor · 5 years ago

Text

don’t be cruel [ john lennon x reader ]

summary: You come to class in the shortest little skirt and Professor Lennon is so distracted he can barely teach. Afterwards, he tries taking matters into his own hands... only to be interrupted by the very subject of his fantasy.

prompt: my own fucking post, bc I have no self-control warnings: oral sex, dirty talk, professor kink... this is basically porn and I’m not sorry. oh also there’s dante’s inferno discourse, if that’s upsetting to anyone

i have nothing to say. this is filth. see y’all in the second circle of hell lmao (also, can you spot the 🥪 hint?)

i was gonna schedule this for 9 am or something but... apparently some of y’all are still awake if my notifs are any indication. so. enjoy. it’s almost 4 am for me

This is so, so wrong.

You’re not that much younger than John, with you in your early twenties and him just approaching thirty. Still, he’s your professor. You’re his student. There’s an unspoken taboo about the whole thing, a clear line that should never be towed. John’s a rational man—after all, he’s a Literature professor—and he knows these things in his head. They’re as clear as day, as obvious as Brontë’s warnings against forbidden love throughout Wuthering Heights.

All that rationality flies out the window when you come into class this morning wearing a short skirt that makes John almost drop his chalk.

You greet him with a nod and a smile, as per usual, but John can’t bring himself to smile back. He can’t bring himself to look you in the eyes. So when a flash of hurt streaks through them, he misses it, having already turned his back to write the day’s lesson on the chalkboard.

All of class, John is distracted. Not distracted enough for his students to take notice, of course; he’s familiar enough with the topic and his students are too busy scribbling notes to care. Still, John can’t stop thinking about running his fingers over your ass, about bending you over his desk and fucking you, your pretty little skirt bunched up in his hands. Maybe he’d wrap his tie around your wrists. Make you beg to be touched. And John would give in, if only to hear you whine when he teases your clit.

Thank god for the podium at the front of the room. John’s always been an active teacher, walking up and down the aisles as he lectures, sometimes even sitting on his students’ desks just for the hell of it. Professor McCartney calls it dramatic, but John knows that it brings so much more to his teaching. It keeps his audience engaged, which is exactly what he needs when he’s trying to get them interested in some dead 13th century Italian guy’s rhapsody on death.

Unfortunately, he’s got the worst hard-on ever right now, and even moving slightly behind the podium is causing the fabric of his slacks to shift agonizingly against his erection. John curses having tied his belt so tight this morning.

He’s halfway through the class, basically talking to a dead room of glazed eyes and drooping pens, when you raise your hand.

“Sorry, Professor Lennon.” John inhales sharply at the way you say his name and almost misses your next words. “But just now when you mentioned Beatrice, did you mean that she symbolizes divine love? Because isn’t that the whole reason she can take Dante to heaven, whereas Virgil is limited by human reasoning?”

“Yes, that’s right. What did I say?”

You bite your pen and John’s gaze is immediately drawn to the shape of your lips around it. He swears that he can see you almost smirk a little when you speak again.

“You called her ‘forbidden love.’”

Okay. Maybe John is more distracted than he thinks.

The rest of the hour, Johns finds himself glancing at you even more often. And though you’re sitting in the back of the room, John thinks that he catches you looking right back.

For the first time in his career, John has to agree with his students: the end of class can’t come quickly enough. The moment that last straggler pushes out of the lecture hall, the double doors closing behind them, he pushes off from the podium and rushes into his office, not even bothering to lock the door. John just needs some sweet relief and he finds it when he leans against his desk and unbuttons his slacks.

The moment John takes his cock in hand, he groans and lets his head fall back. Fucking hell, he’s been wanting to touch himself since you walked into class in that stupidly short skirt. He knows that this is improper, especially in his own office, but John couldn’t care less right now. He strokes himself with one hand, bracing against the desk with the other. And then his mind veers off and imagines that it’s you touching him. Your hands are so much smaller than John’s. The thought of them wrapped around his cock makes him swear, your name tumbling from his lips before he can stop it. Fuck, he’s getting close, and in his head he can hear you edging him on, can hear you calling his name—

“Professor?”

There’s no time to hide. John can barely even react, eyes jolting open to see your wide, shocked ones… glued to the sight of him masturbating.

“Jesus Christ, I’m so sorry, I- I didn’t hear you knocking, I...” His babbling trails off when you don’t seem to be freaking out. And when you close the door behind you, turning the lock, something else entirely shoots through his body.

“I heard you saying my name.” You walk to where John is standing, his hand still wrapped around his cock. “Were you thinking about me?”

“I, uh. Look, I didn’t-”

The sight of you dropping to your knees in front of him is the hottest thing John has ever seen. Involuntarily, his hand jerks and he lets out a shaky breath.

“Tell me, please?” And how can he say no when you’re looking up at him like that, biting so innocently at your lip?

Something inside John lurches and he stumbles right across that line separating right from wrong.

“Fuck, I was.” John’s voice pitches a note lower, tone more confident and now it’s your turn to catch your breath in your throat. “Been thinkin’ about you all class, birdie. You knew what you were doing, paradin’ around in that little skirt. I bet you wore it for me, hm?”

You nod your head, a little shyly, and place a hand over his, not quite touching his cock. Still, the sight of your much smaller hand on John’s makes his grip tighten and he grunts. The sound goes right to your core.

“Wanna feel you in my mouth. Can I?”

John barely gets the chance to nod before you’re mouthing at his tip. His hand falls away immediately, joining the other in gripping the desk at the feeling. You pull away a little and lick all the way from up from the base, flattening your tongue against his veins, before taking his cock into your mouth.

You go down on him slowly, so slowly, and the feeling of your warm mouth enveloping his length makes John groan. His eyes want to fall shut but he forces himself to watch your pretty lips stretch around his cock. It’s worth it, especially when you flick your eyes up to look at him. The sight of you makes his hips jerk involuntarily and you gag, pulling backwards with a wet pop that sends another wave of arousal coursing through John.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, reaching out a hand to brush away the tears that have welled up in your eyes, but you shake your head. Wordlessly, you guide both of his hands into your hair and go down on him again—and when you take in as much of his cock as you can, you look up to John as if waiting for something.

When he understands, he finally lets himself close his eyes.

“God, you’re so good for me, aren’t you?” John pulls out of your mouth a little before sliding back in, gasping at the warmth. “Taking your professor's cock like this. Mm, fuck—you feel so good.”

John increases his pace, starting to really fuck into your mouth. His grip tightens in your hair and you whine.

“What if Professor McCartney walked in right now, huh? I bet you’d keep sucking me off. Would you?”

The blush across your cheeks darkens and John takes note of it, something piping up in the back of his mind. But then you’re moaning around his cock and the vibrations are making his knees weak. He’s gonna come, soon, and his words devolve into grunts and curses as his hips jerk faster and faster into your mouth. Your throat has got to be tired by now but you’re not stopping or pulling away. The thought that you actually enjoy this, that it’s turning you on to be on your knees for John, is what sends him over the edge.

You let him finish in your mouth, swallowing all of it—or at least, as much as you can. Still, a little bit of John’s cum makes its way down your bottom lip. Before he can second-guess himself, he pulls you up to your feet and kisses you. It’s soft, a distinct contrast to the fervor with which John had just been fucking your mouth with, and a little bitter with the taste of his own cum on his tongue. You whine when he swipes a tongue across your lip and the sound turns into a high pitched moan when he bites down where he just licked.

“Professor-”

“Call me John,” he says, pulling away and seeing a shy smile cross your face.

“Okay,” you say. You close the gap between your lips and kiss him again. “John.”

Just to make sure, though, John has you scream it for him when it’s his turn to get on his knees.

* * *

THERE IS NOW A PART TWO 🥪🥪🥪

#john lennon x reader #john lennon smut #the beatles x reader #beatles smut #kalwrites #professor kink #dante is about to punt me into hell #sorry #professor au

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slutforgoodliterature · 3 years ago

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Something Wicked - Part 2

Chapter Two - Dead Poets Society

Warnings: angst, descriptions of extreme violence, swearing

A/N: thanks for all the love on part one! I had actually finished writing this second part last week but then I accidentally pressed Control-T and the whole thing deleted so... don’t press Control-T basically 🙃

Also, this is what I imagine Natalie to look like! I always like having a visual, ignore this picture if you don’t want her to look this way I guess ahaha (Rose Salazar for anyone who’s wondering)

The drive to the police precinct is super uncomfortable. Spencer’s leg is pressed against mine the whole way, and because I’m stuck in the middle there’s nothing I can do to avoid it. He seems like he’s trying to position himself as far from me as possible as well, but the freaking spider has too-long legs that barely fit in the back of this SUV.

When we arrive, Immediately put as much space between him and I as possible and seek out Chief Willoughby.

“Hi, Natalie Hart, public liaison for the Behavioural Analysis Unit. This is my…” I sense Spencer hovering over my shoulder, “colleague, Special Agent Spencer Reid.” I hold out my hand for the chief of police to shake.

He ignores my hand and instead scans me head to toe, staying silent.

“We’re here to assist you with the recent string of home invasions and murders?” I raise a brow at him.

Willoughby huffs. “Well, I can tell you it wasn’t my choice to get you guys to come on down here, but my second in command seems to have a lot of faith in your mind-reading mumbo jumbo.”

I drop my hand. This will be fun.

“Actually, Chief Willoughby, the job of the BAU is not to do any mind reading. We instead study cues and behaviour and use these skills in situations such as these to give insight into the people who commit these crimes. From there, we create a profile that aids your people to narrow down a suspect pool-“

Spencer is cut off by an aggressive cough from Willoughby.

“Yes okay, okay. It’s good you’re here. I got one of the officers to clear out an office for you, just that door there.” He points and we start to head over. Before I shut the door behind us, I look back at him and give him my best glare.

“I can only help as much as you let me, Chief. We want to stop this just as much as you do.” He stares back at me, eyes narrowed. “Don’t let your ego get in the way.” He nods once and turns on his heel.

“What did you say to him?” Spencer asks as I enter the office. He’s already got a map tacked to the wall and is circling specific points, I’m assuming where the murders happened.

“Does it matter?” I sigh, already at my wits end from dealing with one asshole. I don’t need another one on my back.

“We need to be courteous to these people, Natalie. If they ask us to leave because you snapped at him, then-“ He begins to berate me but I whirl around and point a finger up at him, seeing as he’s at least a head taller than me.

“Thanks for the lecture, John Lennon. Funnily enough, as a public liaison, I know how to deal with people. He needed to know we would take it seriously, and men like him never respect women who don’t stand up for themselves.” His eyes widen as I almost yell at him.

Before he can respond, the ringing of a phone breaks us out of our glaring contest. He picks it up quickly and exchanges a few words with whoever is on the other end before finally saying “We’ll be there in 10.”

He avoids my eyes and slings his back over his shoulder. “There’s been another family discovered. Same killer, Hotch wants us there ASAP.”

I nod wordlessly.

The second we arrive, journalists and TV crews flock the car.

“I’ll deal with them, meet you inside in a minute.” I wave Spencer off.

“You sure you can-“ he starts but I cut him off.

“Stop doubting me for one second and get your ass inside before I become your next unsub.” I smile sweetly at him, but he must see the rage in my eyes because he hurries away.

As the press clamours for information, I stand stoically in front of the cameras and answer their questions in the limited way I can.

“Yes, the FBI is here to assist in the investigation into the current string of murders. Yes, we are doing all we can to apprehend whoever is behind this. No, I will not be discussing the details of the case.”

One question in particular catches me off guard.

“Can you comment on the rumour he’s leaving written messages at the crime scene?” I search the crowd for whoever said that, but whoever did has faded into the crowd.

“As I said, I will not be discussing the case. Nothing more to be said at this point in time.” I turn on my heels, ignoring the yelling behind me, and disappear into the house.

I find the others in the living room and I’m confronted by blood. So much blood. The bodies of the family are strewn across the floor. I balk and cover my mouth in a fist, knowing I’d let out and embarrassing sound. I turn to face the doorway, avoiding the gore.

On the wall across from me are bright red words that send a chill down my spine.

Written in blood reads: I will drain him dry as hay

“You handled the press well. Hotch was impressed.” Rossi sneaks up behind me and I jump slightly at the sudden voice.

“Just doing my job.” I mutter. He pats me on the shoulder knowingly and turns back to the group.

I tune out their conversation as they discuss the bodies before them. I don’t need those images in my head. The bodies haphazardly covered by sheets is enough for me.

“The quote is another one from Shakespeare. Same play as the last one.” Spencer states, studying the wall.

“Yeah, Macbeth. Like Natalie said.” Emily smiled at me warmly. Spencer swallows thickly and shoots me a short, cold look.

“Exactly. Both quotes are actually from the three witches, who basically curse Macbeth for becoming so power hungry. In fact, Macbeth himself is the ‘something wicked’ that the first quote references.” He continues.

“So the unsub is attacking people he thinks are power hungry and successful?” Derek asks the room.

“I think that’s highly likely. So far, all the victims have been relatively wealthy families.” Hotch says without emotion.

“But if the unsub is targeting the man of the house, how come they’re the only ones that aren’t beaten.” Emily says. “They seem to get the most merciful death. The mothers, on the other hand…” everyone turns to look at the brutalised woman on the ground.

“In the play, Lady Macbeth is actually seen as the one controlling Macbeth and pushing him to be so ruthless.” I add quietly. Every head swivels to me.

“That’s a good point Natalie.” Hotch nods thoughtfully. Spencer even looks impressed with my observation. “The unsub might be targeting the women he believes are pushing their husbands to be successful.”

“Maybe a wife of his own left him because he didn’t achieve her standards? That could be the motive.” Derek says.

“And a stressor.” Emily sighs.

“So what, we just search up every guy in Memphis who’s recently been through a divorce?” Rossi scoffs. “That’ll take days. We need to narrow it down more.”

“Shakespeare seems to have a significant meaning to this unsub. I suggest we take that into account.” Spencer offers and I find myself nodding in agreement.

Derek pulls out a phone and dials quickly.

“You’ve reached the goddess of all things tech. How can I help you?” Garcia’s voice crackles through the speaker.

“Babygirl, we need a list of all antique book dealers and shops that sell old books. Pay special attention to those that deal a lot with Shakespeare.” Derek instructs. The sound of rapid typing then a beep follows.

“Ok, I’ve got around 78 bookstores and dealers that match that description. Anyway I can narrow that down for you?”

“Look at the men who have recently gone through divorce or have fallen on financial problems recently.” Rossi says into the phone.

More typing, then: “Ok, I’ve got three. A Joel Macpherson who runs an antique bookshop, Carl Thompson who specialises in selling first-edition Shakespeare and to complete this triad of potential mass murders is Leopold van der Fell. His shop is on the other side of town and he runs a book club that exclusively reads Shakespeare."

“Send us the addresses please, baby girl.” Derek says and Garcia scoffs.

“Oh, yee have little faith. They’re already on your phones.” On more thank you and Hotch scans us.

“Rossi, you and Derek speak to Joel Macpherson. Reid, take Natalie and see Leopold. Emily and I will visit Carl Thompson.” Without a second word, everyone begins filing out of the room and into their respective cars.

Spencer looks at me and sighs. “Let’s get this over with.”

I roll my eyes and make my way to the car, hopping into the drivers seat.

“You sure you’re okay to drive?” Spencer asks as he gets in the passenger side.

“My god! Can I not do anything without you questioning me?” I cry, turning in my seat to face him. He stares at his hands.

“I meant that seeing that inside probably shook you up. I don’t want you driving if your head is elsewhere.”

I’m taken aback by his thoughtfulness. I swallow loudly and put the car in park, backing out of the driveway.

“I could use the distraction.” I answer after a stretch of silence.

I see him nod out of the corner of my eyes. “Okay, I get it.”

I allow myself to relax in my seat. “Thanks.” I mutter.

“But if you crash because you’re distracted, don’t say I didn’t want you.” He adds.

“There’s the asshole I know and love.” I turn the radio on and drown out his response. “Now, shut up and give me directions.”

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gevejsbvdj · 4 years ago

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Pt. 2

the continuation of what inspired my leave beneath the cut

I have a friend, who I got along with really well because we are both Afro Latinas (only she can speak Spanish. I don’t, not really) and we are black kids who had an interest in unconventional topics. I messaged her before disappearing about the ending of the server. I was keeping her updated all throughout, but after telling her the ending, I left her on read

I won’t disclose what I got up to during my absence. But again, don’t think that I had a breakdown because of the server ONLY. It was the final straw. I had so much going on in my life and I couldn’t take it anymore.

Anyways, she took it upon herself to send hateful messages to Ley’s account and thought it was something to be proud of and told me. I...wasn’t impressed. But I still didn’t respond to our chats. Then she (her name is Rex. I’m gonna call her that) dmed Ley and was actually pretty aggressive towards her in an attempt to get answers. Again, not impressed but it was enough for me to actually come online. I feel like that’s why she acted out, to get me online. I don’t think she cared about me and used my pain to hurt others.

I had extremely brief, passing conversations with people who weren’t involved with the situation at all right before I messaged Rex.

Ley was special to me before her message. I was always very defensive and protective of her like I was everyone else, but her especially because I thought she was nice. And I remembered when people were being mean to me, she reached out. And I still appreciate her for doing that.

Which was why it was so confusing when Rex told me that they were all mad at me because I ACCUSED JOANE OF GROOMING PEOPLE. They wanted a reason to make me the villain so badly that they made shit up.

Notice how here, she says that I called Joane a FUCKING PEDO. Not even just a groomer but an outright PEDOPHILE.

I’ve been raped. I’ve been sexually assaulted, groomed, all of that. I don’t say shit. I never say anything. I’ve even been accused- yes, ACTUALLY ACCUSED unlike Joane- to being a paedophile. I’m 19. Not even just that but I’m freshly 19. I got accused when I was 17. But I would never just- ughhhh moving on I don’t wanna get into it.

When Rex asked for proof, this is way Ley sent her:

In this screenshot, I’m literally discussing how Joane’s childish behaviour could get her killed. I was concerned. Again, where’s the bullying?

Rex told me that Ley said she was wrong for not having proof, and I understand. Ley wasn’t present when it all went down

But really Ley?

I heard a quote from someone that said something like “if someone believed a lie about you without checking up on you first to see if there was proof, then they were already looking for something to destroy you with to begin with” or SOMETHING like that. So I thought back to that quote and felt awful. I always suspected that they didn’t really like me, but always marked it up to my depression talking nonsense. But after all of this...maybe it was true. Why did I come out the most damage? Why were they making up lies about me? Me, out of all of them. Why was I consistently being seen as the bad guy overall? No really tell me.

Anyways, this was Ley’s justification to believe that I would say such an awful thing:

Okay. Let’s just say that- Joane WAS a groomer. That she actually is a paedophile and I commented on it. She’s obviously not but I’m pulling a Ben Shapiro here. Everything else is the same only Joane is a paedophile.

That motherfucking “it’s weird that he only spoke up when they were arguing” argument, and other arguments like that are so fucking toxic. As well as “well it wasn’t a problem that never came up before” so??? That’s what the fucking #metoo movement was all about. Timing means NOTHING when it comes to that. It doesn’t matter if it’s Joane or fucking Bill Cosby. The fact that thought came to Ley’s head is so fucking upsetting and DISGUSTING.THAT mentality is why people never want to believe victims of assault. Same goes for “they could have said that privately” guys she’s talking about that user who said they were uncomfortable with Joane coming onto him. Privately? It was private to him. In that server, we’ve made it known that it’s a very homey and comfortable environment. And who the fuck are you to tell someone where and when they can speak up about something like that???

Also, she accused me of calling her a pedo again. Good for me right? I’m a bully and I’m someone who just blindly calls people paedophiles. Good for me, damn.

No, you shouldn’t believe someone right away when they call someone a groomer. God don’t I know that. But you definitely don’t say THAT what the fucking fuck.

Jesus. Okay, moving on.

Rex aggressively messaged Mel who had something similar to say:

uggh, you WERE the toxic environment i wanted to flee from,.

It hurts. It hurts a lot to see another friend you looked up to call you a bully. And that they just say that you called someone a groomer when you didn’t.

Mel couldn’t provide proof either.

Mel also tagged her post with someone kinda ignorant.

Imagine if (thinking of someone I and others don’t always agree with) someone like James Charles made a post broadcasting all the homophobia he dealt with during his career, and I or some other asshole said something “while I don’t always agree with James…” like now isn’t the time. Now isn’t the time to let people you know you disagree with me ESPECIALLY on a post where you agree with me 100%??? What is the point then? You agreed with me, so agree with me. There. No one is saying that you have to agree with everything I say lord fucking knows I don’t always agree with you guys. fucking DUH. It makes me think you just wanted to put that in to lesson me and my words, even only slightly. Why? That hurts a lot, Mel. It really fucking does bruh.

When Rex called her out on it, she deleted the reblog. Not just the meagre little tag but the whole post. If she couldn’t be slick with me, then she wasn’t going to support me at all. It isn’t worth it if she can’t be shady. That’s the message I got from that. Tells me a lot.

I am not friends with Rex anymore. She’s always been really aggressive and drama craving and I can’t take it. It’s impacting me negatively as well. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t somewhat happy with the screenshots she gave me. Told me a lot about these people I was still willing to talk to.

Now? I won’t even waste their time.

After all of that. I made the post. The big announcement post. It was too much. I can’t escape the racism in my hometown or in the country in general, but I can leave and distance myself from the fandom.

I was talking to someone today, and she, as a white woman, admitted that white people act so shitty when it’s implied that they’re racist. Which is so true.

As I said, people make mistakes. No white person EVER is 0% racist or biased. I’m sorry but it’s not true unless you’re a baby or something. Same goes for other races, but mainly white people who have always had the upper hand, the privilege, the money, the chances, the power, all of that.

Listen to me.

When a person of color tells you that you are being microaggressive, biased, ignorant, or prejudice, or straight up RACIST, YOU FUCKING LISTEN TO THEM. Why do you guys get so AGGRESSIVE AND MAD?? That is so fucking WEIRD.

And yes. I’m talking to you Vulture.

I really had no ill feelings towards you prior to your comments.

Or your posts.

peep that clumsily used aave. never fucking talked like that to anyone but me. either way, you sound dumb.

Why?

Why so...mad?

You felt guilty? Why did you feel guilty?

...I’m gonna let you answer that.

Moving on. I know that not everything has to be about race. I hate making things about my race. I do, even when I should! But you can be racist unintentionally. Does that mean you’re racist? No! I have yet to receive a genuine apology from any of you, meanwhile, I’ve been over here grovelling and hoping that you like me again. God. Why is it so hard for you to apologize and move on??

No, in that same fucking server, someone sent a racist meme after joking about slavery all day:

And yes, the people in the chat at the time laughed at it...

I told them that WASNT funny and they freaked out all “WHY CANT I TALK TO PEOPLE IM SO FUCKING STUPID I SUCK” like oh...my god. You guys make it so awkward being black oh my GOD. I- like it makes me never want to say ANYTHING but I know I have to but god what the hell guys???

I wouldn’t really think that the members of the server chat were racially biased if they just accepted the fact that they were micro aggressive and didn’t flip out about it. Not really, at least. That reaction is so- well it’s sus as fuck. People who aren’t prejudiced will apologize, correct themselves and move on. Not dismiss me constantly and DEFINITELY not freak the fuck out.

I also wouldn’t assume they were racially biased if this SAME EXACT SITUATION DIDNT HAPPEN TO ME BEFORE.

Yep! On the Beatles Amino, I was called a bully and was reported by the LEADERS. Why? Because I told a curator she was inconsistent with her rules… that’s it. And that was back when I was sugary sweet all the time and was deemed to be a cinnamon roll. Nah. They knew I was black and I got told that people were scared of me and that I was bullying people. Yeah okay. Messaging ONE curator about her rules is the same thing as bullying people. Chile I can’t. And it only happens in the Beatles fandom. But no when someone calls John Lennon a racist it’s all “Zach! Zach! Tell them they’re wrong.” Ugh...

So that’s that on that. I have nothing else to say. Don’t message me about this post if you didn’t read all of this. I’m an idiot and I’m honestly still willing you hear you all out but don’t expect me to ever want to have anything to do with you. Out of the what- 50 people from that server, only two stood up for me? And two separate people APOLOGIZED TO ME. AND THEY HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH ANYTHING. That’s a shame. Thank you Johnny, Lenny, Laurie, and Remy. All of your names rhyme and you didn’t make me feel like I was CRAZY, unlike those I mentioned. There’s so much shit going on in the world rn, especially to do with racism. I know that you guys know. But some posts really....really tried me. oh well. I’m black. I like The Beatles. And I’m a victim of microaggressions, false accusations, gas lighting. I’m also out. bye.

black lives matter resources

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thekhoei · 7 months ago

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i just realized that john is the only one i put as a human, while other 3 were varies as natural inherent characters sort of. it doesnt mean the other 3 are less human than john bc i didnt put any meaning like that on the writing, but rather the way i view him. this is more like sharing my perspective of each members of the beatles, but the special episode belongs to john as he is an interesting charismatic almost impenetrable mindset serpentine behavior deceitful craft bewildering inmost spirit and soul to me (i honestly do not know if the terms and the concepts of spirit and soul are distinguish or not.) i also put many big words as partly english is my second language and i dont fully understand all those words, partly i try to find any words that can virtually touch on the way i see him, and partly is because i dont think any word are enough to help me describe him, or im just not good at english. i mean john is a thought provoking case study for me i didnt not think of him that much just to write this long ass paragraph. i personally have a lot of specific feelings towards him that i havent shared.

anyway. pretty sum up how passionate if not obsessed i am about this dead man that is years older than my grandparents. i hate how this fandom is what im most enthusiast in. now we go onto the real subject. i have seen so many interpretations (now im questioning if im using the right word or not) of each member of the beatles/objects that you guys tagged them with, and i cannot say im not enjoying it. to see many perspectives of one through many lens of experience. thats what making me sharing this vision of mine. i havent changed a slightly bit of the way i see them in the previous post, but id love to grow it like a seed to a tree. i still havent got any idea to explain it properly because its a vague piece of mind in my head rn but i will give it a try. tbh i feel like john is the most human among them all. and again it isnt like the others are less human than him. we always have an image of an approachable down to earth ringo, a merely one and only george harrison who is, to an asian, very much easy to get a grip on his spiritualism bc most of us follow that belief, even though i am sort of like agnostic. or paul. he shows us many sides of him that like, idk how to put it into words, but the kind of "pr man" like him isnt that hard to understand him/view him similar/close to us. its not like who is more complicated competition but, we all can agree john is the one who was misunderstood the most. even now i still see bullshit hot takes about a dead man from 44 years ago that isnt like already wellknown among the fans. and that is what make him the most human. i feel like i can touch his soul idk maybe im just delusional. the behavior, the thinking, the way he showed off, everything is purely instinctive and full of sentience that people like us who have been learning of how to control our behavior and act with common sense, self awareness and cognitive thinking would find it strange abnormal unusual. and we cant deny that some of us can admit to find it embarrassing to be so different, yet so close to the root of human. during the late half of his life before the death's knock on his door, we usually see a john lennon without self-control, a john lennon with crazy mind, head is always in the clouds and high on drugs. until now some if not so many people still hold that kind of grudge and hatred towards him that they did not bother to understand him. like its fine im not asking you to but life would be more gentle if one actually use love to know a person so 🤷 anw that is what makes me see johnny as an astronaut, yearning to understand the others and himself, and desiring to be acknowledged his depth inside by the universe. i love how he said yoko is like him but an opposite gender. its already tell how much he wanted to be understood. his previous relationships tell that also. even cynthia knows. he is just floating around without self-control, a real nowhere man. im not the only one who point this out. to see john as an astronaut, who lost him ship due to an explode, knowing hes only got a few time remaining alive yet he would just thrive not knowing where to go instinctively, is the closest i could get. he alone the only human in-between the complex of his friends, who still get us to explore about their depth of soul after like 60 years until their deathbeds. he tryna learn about that enormous nature around him, yet he knows he cant touch the end, and he didnt even know what to do. now idk what point am i getting to lmao.

like everyone else if i get a chance i would hug him the tightest hug, i would let him know how much i love him, i would take care of him and do everything to make him feel loved. but if not for what happened, would we still have today? i wouldnt know

man idk what get me into yapping this much perhaps migraine or sort of i hate myself sometiems yknow. pardon my grammar mistae bc i didnt check i just write what im thinking now im sleep like john in that one pic mimimimimi

my interpretation of beatles and the concept of universe: while paul and geo is the sun and the moon, john to me is an astronaut who is floating in the universe. he feels the apocalypse of his life has come near, yet he doesn't care that much. he only wants to explore the emptiness of a rich of so many void. he is lonely, but at the same time he feels the warm of that loneliness in that vast field of stars and he suddenly doesnt feel alone anymore. while starr is literally named starr, he should be a star right? but to me he is the ocean. the last piece of the band who gets along the same line with the other, like how similar is the sea to the universe. we all know the universe is so infinite and mysterious. while whenever thinking of going to the beach, to the seaside, swimming in the ocean, we only think about fun. like how starr is potrayed as the band's clown and all. but the sea also have its depth and enigmatic charisma, and human also yearn to learn about the darkness inside that big void like how they want to touch the moon. starr is that little starfish who dreams to belong to the sky, and at the end he is. john wants to be the sun, but he is just a nowhere man. paul desires to follow the sun, he is the fool on the hill yearning to be one. "the quiet beatles" the shining moon with soulful notions. and the fresh wave in a summer day and night, the one and only star (no pun intended lmao 😔)

#head hurting nose sneezing eyes itching and im not doing works im supposed to do at 2:30 in the morning but all is fine ig #i feel like shit rn not like venting but rather blaming those old fags for clinging on my mind for like a freaking unhealthy amount of time #when i said i would write a 20k word thesis of john lennon after my uni exams i mean that. and that isnt the actual limit #i hate how i think about those old hags like they varied my perspectives and destroying me the best and worst ways possible rn #john lennon #bc this adding is particularly about him #the beatles #pulling this out of my chest i have been having so many thoughts #what gets me to write like this when im yapping but not during the exams

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taiblogcomics · 4 years ago

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Around the World in 20 Pages

Hey there, bug fables. I think I'm probably out of the long-winded lead-ins by issue 3, so let's just jump into another New 52 Teen Titans review~

Here's the cover:

For a moment I thought Tim here had skates built into his shoes--not the right place for Heelys, but close enough--but it's actually just his logo. Because that's the best place to put your logo. In contrast, Bunker shows off his greatest power: his own Hulk Hands! Truly, he is the greatest hero on this team.

We pick up immediately where we left off last time, with Kid Flash encountering Solstice. This is probably a good place to introduce the character. Kiran Singh is a girl from India with light-based powers. She was actually introduced in the last ten or so issues of the previous Teen Titans series (the Geoff Johns era, though not created by him). As you might expect from a series that went on for 100 issues (especially in DC), it got a bit dour sometimes, and Kiran was a bright spot in those issues--literally and figuratively. So of course, instead of the bright golden look she had that also reflected her Indian heritage, the New 52 reinterprets her as a black void of smoke with glowing cracks all over her. Honestly, a fitting metaphor for everything the New 52 did~

Solstice begs Kid Flash to leave her behind, but Kid Flash won't give up on someone. This leads to a confusing two-page spread where he races all over the facility to retrieve a hose to tie Solstice up so he can carry her. It's not very well done, as you can tell by the fact that they had to number it and draw a line from each sequence, since it doesn't flow naturally. Comics are supposed to be sequential storytelling, right? Not scattershot storytelling. Anyways, they escape the facility, and discover that they're being held in the Antarctic. Solstice demonstrates another of her powers is being a jinx, as she comments that Kid Flash can't have that great traction running on ice while in sneakers. So it is of course at that moment that he slips, and the pair of them tumble into an enormous ravine.

But the survival of these characters isn't important! Instead we cut to "the badlands"--any old badlands, it doesn't matter--where a kid in a sweater vest and John Lennon sunglasses jumps aboard a passing train. Once inside the car, he discovers a huge mysterious cocoon and freaks out a little bit. He freaks out even more when a grizzled old crusty guy appears behind him and puts a grizzled old crusty hand on his shoulder. Even in superhero comics, we still have train hobos. Before we can pick up on that, though, we're gonna cut away again.

So here's a one-page scene showing us that the Teleport Trio actually survived and are alive in the hospital. Cassie enters and threatens him to give up who hired him. It then cuts away yet again to show Solstice learning to fly with her powers, saving herself and Kid Flash. And then we cut back to Bunker and his hobo buddy, because this comic has fucking ADHD. I can't wait until all these people are on the same team, so we can stop cutting away to see what they're doing. Bunker and the hobo shared an apple, and the hobo points out that no one with clothes as nice as Bunker's needs to be sneaking onto a train he could buy a ticket to ride.

Things suddenly get tense, and the hobo kicks Bunker across the face. Usually you have to prod them into bum fights, but here we are. Bunker demonstrates his powers of making psionic bricks. Basically, he's a Green Lantern who can only make bricks. It's actually a pretty neat power, if you're clever and played with Lego a lot. The hobo then suddenly pulls off his face--takes his face... off--revealing he's actually Tim Drake in disguise. This actually ends the fight instantly, since Bunker has actually been following Tim's career and wants to team up. He changes into his costume and volunteers his service. And in case you were wondering, Skitter's the thing in the cocoon, conveniently writing her out of the issue~

The train stops abruptly, and Tim and Bunker take a look outside. They immediately start talking about how all the people look possessed and zombified, but the art doesn't convey this at all. They may be slightly lurching towards our heroes, arms outstreched, but they look like healthy, smiling people. Tim points out that this can't be the work of NOWHERE, because NOWHERE exclusively focuses on those age 20 and under, and these people are multi-generational. They're never going to be a successful terrorist group if they don't broaden your demographic appeal. Tim flies off to find the source of the hypnosis, while Bunker keeps them out with his bricks.

Upon landing on a big radio tower, Tim notices some of the equipment is much newer than the tower itself, and must be the problem. It's at this point he's attacked by a big scrap-pile goon. Like, imagine Clayface, but instead of clay, he's made of rusted bits of metal and wire and other mechanical bits. He calls himself Detritus and brags about how he's an AI that suddenly became intelligent, now intending to wipe out humanity. He reaches for Tim, and then the next page shows Tim landing gently back on the train. He's mumbling about how he has to remember, repeating Detritus' name... and then smiles and gives a canned explanation to Bunker about how he found something on the radio tower and disabled it, and everything is good now.

Well, with Tim either under mind control or at the very least amnesia, the issue ends on two revelations. The first is that Skitter's cocoon has opened up and dumped Skitter back out--a completely human Skitter, with no idea where she is. The second is back in Antarctica, where the cold is finally taking its toll on Kid Flash and Solstice, and they're about to pass out. As he fades into unconsciousness, Kid Flash notices that he seems to have wandered from the snows onto... a cheerful, paved street...?

While I didn’t have super serious complaints about the first two issues, I do have them here. Namely, the comic’s inability to focus. It seriously keeps jumping from character to character, with no time to settle on any one plot point. Cassie appears for only one page, wherein it’s implied she tortures somebody who’s already in the hospital. Like, we didn’t have to cut away, we could’ve just had the Bunker plot and then the Kid Flash plot. It just feels really unfocused, which makes it difficult to read. Like I said, can’t wait for them to be a team so we can focus on them collectively~

Next issue, we’ll follow up on what is undoubtedly the introduction of Danny the Street. I’m... unsure about how to feel about that. Again, we’ll get into it next issue~

#comics #reviews #Teen Titans #Taiblog

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seromreven · 5 years ago

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title: blue velvet | chapter four.

pairings: john lennon/male!reader & paul mccartney/reader | various pairings both including and not including the reader.

summary: it’s the turn of the new decade; you’re the leader of a band that has its residency in a popular nightclub in Hamburg. One fateful night you meet The Beatles, a band new in town, and things take a turn as your relationship with two of the members of the band evolves.

author’s note: i’m a sickly baby and when i finally stopped having stomach issues; i got a goddamn headache. anyway, here’s the last chapter ! wah !

---

You were suddenly, and rather violently, awoken the day after the party. You cursed another your breath as your eyes adjusted to a completely bright room. You roommate Wolfgang were staring down at you with his arms on crossed as he stood at the side of your bed. You blinked slowly a few times before with a groggy voice finally managed to ask;

“What…? What time is it?”

The few times he had roused you out of your sleep before was on days you had to travel or work early; from what you could recall, you had to do neither today.

“It’s six.”

He was pretty stoic as he looked down at you. Was he mad? Wasn’t this the time he woke up anyway? The neat freak of nature that he was.

“In… in the morning?”

You had to be sure. It could very well be that after the night you had, your internal clock had shut itself off and let you sleep very late.

“Ja,” he huffed and went to sit on his own bed in the tiny room you shared. His arms still crossed. You had finally collected yourself together enough for your sight not to be completely blurred and you slowly sat up as you felt yourself getting more and more awake.

“...Why?”

You asked, feeling very confused. Why the fuck would he wake you up at this ungodly hour? Fuck. Wolfgang didn’t even look like he had planned to be awake and neither looked like he wanted to. He was shirtless and his dark black hair pointed in all angles it could.

“Your boyfriend is out in the hall waiting for you. Ask him.”

“What? I don’t have a boyfriend?”

Who would he assume was your boyfriend? Paul? Surely not, whatever Paul had done with you was in the presence of the two of you alone. Well, except for the recent one. But no one seemed to notice it! Except for, well, John. Wait, could it be John that was out there? Why would Wolfgang call him your boyfriend?

“Well,” Wolfgang sighed, “the one who kissed you is out there. Whatever he is to you.”

So, that didn’t clear things up. And Wolfgang, having known you for quite a while, seemed to pick up on your uncertainty.

“Did you…,” he looked to be fighting back a smirk or a bemused look as he continued, “kiss more than one man yesterday?”

“No!”

You jumped to your feet with a blush furiously fighting it’s way out.

“I mean… yeah… kinda…”

God, did he think you were some kind of antisocial who never went out? You could kiss more than one man a day if you wanted to. You never had or wanted to before yesterday but that’s far beyond the point. You hastily ignored whatever you friend said next and in fast movements; put on pants and a shirt that had laid on the floor (almost resulting in facepalming yourself in your rush) and hurried out of the room.

You supposed you just had to find out yourself who he was thinking about. Couldn’t really be anyone but John. Wolf had just thrown out Paul and George when John… made his move on you so that’s really what made the most sense.

And lo and behold but who did you see but none other than John Lennon? Standing in the living room looking rather worse for wear as he looked on a row of framed pictures you and your roommates had of yourselves and Brighton. He had one in his hand that he seemed to study and you rested against the entrance way of the room as you waited for him to take notice of your presence.

You weren’t in a rush to be noticed and instead took the time to take him in. He wore the same as he did the previous night. His hair was a mess and… well, he didn’t look like he had had any sleep during the night. He looked horrible.

He placed the portrait down and finally saw you out of the corner of his eye. He gave a timid smile; more from him being deadly tired, you thought, rather of him being any kind of shy. Though it could be both. You couldn’t exactly boast about knowing him any well.

He muttered out a single ‘hello’ and glanced to his feet. You scratched your neck in confusion. You worried about his dishevelled appearance and seemingly nervous posture. He seemed to be of a lot more self-confidence up until he… oh, until he kissed you. You really should’ve known it was for this he was here about.

You didn’t move out of your spot from the doorless entrance. It didn’t matter if you went further in or not; the want for privacy could only be fulfilled if you left the room or went somewhere else completely.

He suddenly looked back up at you with the mumbled proclamation of; “I’m not a Queer, y’know.”

Your breathing stilled for a second as you looked at him from your spot. So, your original thoughts the day previously had been correct. That the kiss had taken him by surprise as much as it had you. And would a man who had kissed multiple others state such a fact about himself? While it was possible, you supposed, it hadn’t felt like someone experience with the same sex.

“...Right,” you were kinda disappointed. But you couldn’t fault him in having that attitude. You couldn’t think of anywhere that would be safe for the likes of you. And you had your own confusion and denial when you first figured out your affection for men. Or the lack of for women.

“Is that all you came to say…? Or do you want to… talk some more?”

You asked the demure looking man. You wanted desperately to get some life back into the man. It pained to see him in such a state; especially knowing you had in some way been responsible for it. But he just shrugged and you could see you had to put more effort into it.

“There’s… a small deli open down the street. We could get something to eat and drink… and talk. Yeah?”

He nodded, “yeah,” and followed you when you walked out the door. The trip down the many stairs and out into the chill Hamburg morning was spent in silence and you walked side by side to the US-styled deli. And as you had said; it was open, but just about. An older man inside saw the two of you standing outside and waved you in with a grin.

His name was Armin, an old WWII veteran you had become acquainted with by frequenting the deli back when you first started out in Hamburg. His greying auburn hair was long and neatly tied back into a low ponytail as he greeted you as you stepped inside. He asked you about your absence, and with a sly smile, asked about your friend when he seated in what he knew to be your preferred seat. And, yes, he knew. In fact, he himself was gay. Something he had confided with you during your long morning talks. He and his business partner lived together with a small army of cats.

Armin walked away from the table after you told him you were gonna come up and order soon, and then turned to look at John. He had discarded his leather jacket and were now running hands through his hair. Trying to fix it in a futile attempt.

“The pastrami on rye is great.”

You said it in an attempt to say anything, you suppose. For, to be quite honest, you weren’t completely sure what to say. Perhaps as a guide on what to order? … Geez, you were bad at this. So you sighed and glanced out the window. It was raining and the streets weren’t completely empty. There were a few homeless and people on their way to work or someone walking their dog. You totally weren’t distracting yourself in an attempt to not look at John and actually acknowledge the awkward situation you had created… Oh, look, a wiener dog.

You heard a muttering of your name and with a defeated sigh; you looked back to John. You couldn’t just sit in silence and ignore the situation and looked to be John felt the same.

“Maybe I am…,” he glanced towards Armin all while looking unsure… nervous, “... y’know.”

You had a sense of what he was trying to say. You gently placed your hands on the table; near his and leaned slightly forward. “It’s safe to talk here.”

He nodded carefully and looked down at your hands. You wondered about what was going on in his head. What his thoughts were about all of this. He didn’t seem the most talkative when it came to the emotional ‘bullcrap’. Which was in equal parts understandable and frustrating.

“Look, you don’t have to tell me anything, okay? It would be nice… but you don’t owe it to me to explain.”

You wanted him to be sure of that. It wasn’t that serious of a situation… well, at least not for you. Putting yourself in his shoes; you had to understand that what was going on now was detrimental for him. You patted him gently on the back of his hand and stood up.

“I’ll get some coffee and you can think things over, okay?”

He gave a short nod and you left and went to the counter of the small deli. The place was still empty but from experience; you knew you had about an hour before it would slowly be filled with tourists and the like. You got plain black coffees, not knowing what John preferred and got back to him with the steaming cups. The moment you sat down; John looked more alert and started talking,

“I’ve never thought about a lad like this before… Except for Elvis, perhaps... Never wanted to kiss one. Or… touch one like I do with birds. But,” he glanced to you. A soft gaze in his eyes. “I want to do all that and more with you.”

He was tearing small rifts into the paper napkin that you had given him with the coffee as he lightly shook his head at his own words.

“But we hardly know each other. We only met yesterday,” you commented. It wasn’t to deter him. Not at all; this week had just gone by fast. It was hard to believe even that it was just a few days ago you even saw him perform. But; you could relate to what he was saying. As little as you knew the man, there was something that pulled you to him… and his friends. In different ways, of course.

He looked at you with a slightly panicked look; “we can get to know each other. Right?”

You quickly nodded and reassured him; that, yes, you could and that you also wanted to.

So, you talked. A lot. Ate your food. Both getting the pastrami rye you had mentioned with a side of sunny side up fried eggs. It was delicious, but this you knew as you had frequented the place lots of times previously. And when you had eaten and paid; you left for the nearby park to take a little walk together. He had increasingly gotten in a better mood; so much was obvious to you.

You had gotten around to talking about your pasts. He told about his absent father. His dead mother. And how he was raised by his aunt and uncle; until the uncle died. Man, and you thought you had had it bad as you told him;

“Father died in the war… And I’ve never had a great relationship with my mother. She left me with my grandmother when she got remarried and decided to not have me in her ‘new life’. And when my grandmother realised she couldn’t take care of me; Booker’s family volunteered and took me in.”

You sat and talked for a long time on an old bench; watching the sun rise and the park fill with dog walkers and joggers. Hearing the winter birds come out to sing and it all brought a feeling of relative peace to your mind as the morning had started out early and stressful. Your hands touched slightly between the two of you on the seat of the bench and you didn’t dare to do more in case of any onlookers but it was nice.

You faced him with a slight sniffle as you hadn’t counted for the weather as a walk in the park hadn’t exactly been planned. “I do really like you, John,” he turned to you with a look you weren’t sure how to describe… but it was nice. A small blush was painted across his cheek.

“What about Paul?”

It came out close to a stammer and you raised your brow.

“What about him?”

He sighed, “why me? Wouldn’t you much rather be with Paul?”

“Why would I rather be with Paul?”

“He just seems so… assured in his sexuality. He wasn’t afraid to make the first move on you at the party. Kissing you and… and rubbing your thigh.” His hand went through his hair in a stressed move; messing up his already messy quiff in the process. “And I… I freaked out on you when I kissed you!”

You put your hands on both his shoulders in an attempt to get his attention back to you. To get his mind off the freakout that seemed to be building it’s way out.

“John… John, I like you. And Paul seems like the guy to back off if we tell him that you like me and I like you, yeah?”

He glanced slightly away, seemingly in thought, before giving a slight nod. You grinned and patted his shoulder before quickly looking around the park… It seemed deserted enough for what you had in mind.

“Good… Good,” you nodded as he looked back to you. “D’you feel ready for a hug or… something like it? It looks like you could need one.”

He glanced around the park too; as if he had the same thought as you had only moments earlier. And as if a switch in his mind, he gave you an impish smirk and moved your hands into his and kissed you in a manner that betrayed his look. Soft and much more self-assured than the one the day before.

And in the breeze of the September morning, with the sunrise as the background; you felt a serene calm in the hands of John Lennon.

#blue velvet fic #the beatles #john lennon #male reader #reader insert #beatles fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #onwards to other forgotten projects and requests #i am drinking a lot of water but it's very;; knock knock it's PAIN

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glasskaleidoscopes · 5 years ago

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Chapter 10 - Saturday, December 19th, 2009

Carolyn woke up at the sound of violent retching. She got up quickly and went into the hallway to see who was vomiting. She turned and saw Sallie standing in Vera’s doorway in her pajamas, with a severe case of bed head.

“Who’s in there?” Carolyn asked emphatically.

“Vera. She got up about 10 minutes ago and ran to the bathroom. It’s weird, you don’t remember her feeling sick or complaining about anything last night, do you?” Sallie responded.

“No, she didn’t say anything. Weird how it came up all of the sudden. I wonder if she ate something bad?” Carolyn responded.

“Hmm, maybe. Although we ate most of the stuff she ate. But she definitely eats food when it’s borderline-expired, probably as a product of having so many brothers.” Sallie pondered.

“Yeah that is so true. Let me go get Janet.” Carolyn said, then headed downstairs and knocked on Janet’s door. Janet emerged from her bedroom, already dressed for the day, as usual.

“What’s wrong honey?” Janet asked. Carolyn explained what was going on with Vera. “Oh yeah, I think there was something bad on the pizza we ordered last night. Brad, Andrew, and Jaret are all doubled over as well. Poor guys.” Janet explained, then Carolyn heard retching coming from Janet and Brad’s bathroom. Carolyn nodded, then headed back upstairs to check on Sam. Thankfully he was still sleeping and did not seem sick.

Sallie got changed and then her dad picked her up a little later. Carolyn changed, saving the shower for later, as naturally all of the bathrooms were occupied. She then went into the kitchen and grabbed a bowl of cereal. Carolyn then walked into the dining room and was surprised to see Adrian sitting at the dining room table on his phone, sitting with an empty bowl. Adrian looked up and smiled.

“Good morning. Took you long enough to get down here.” He said as he set his phone down.

“What do you mean?” Carolyn said, slightly confused.

“I figured all of the puking would have woken you up earlier.” Adrian explained.

“Oh, yeah I woke up when I heard Vera run to the bathroom. I guess I just didn’t hear what was going on on the boy’s end.”

“Yeah I guess so...lucky. There were sounds I could’ve gone my whole life without hearing again.” Adrian joked. “Anyways, where’s Sallie?”

“Her dad picked her up about 10 minutes ago.”

“Oh, cool. I mean, not actually cool, I like Sallie. She’s fun.” Adrian tried to cover for himself. “I like you better though.”

Carolyn felt her face heating up, “Thanks.” She said bashfully.

“No need to thank me.” Adrian smiled. “Anyways, what are you doing today?”

“Mmm I don’t know. Maybe play some Sims, maybe read some of my book.” Carolyn said nonchalantly.

“Oh I think that we could do better than that.” Adrian smiled, then he said, “Join me in the basement?” Carolyn got a little nervous and felt beads of sweat at what she thought Adrian was implying.

“Uh, I don’t know. I mean, everyone is still here in the house…” Carolyn explained.

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t mean any of that. I mean, of course I would love to spend time with you, that way. But no, I meant we could pull out the PlayStation and maybe I could help you get better at Spyro.” Adrian explained.

“Oh great! That sounds like a ton of fun!” Carolyn smiled excitedly.

“Awesome. I’ll meet you downstairs then.” Adrian said. Carolyn watched as Adrian put his bowl away, then turned the wrong way. Carolyn was perplexed, then she realized that he was heading upstairs rather than downstairs. Her stomach flopped in her chest as she thought of why he would go upstairs. She only hoped that he didn’t put a shirt on, but then again he probably should. Carolyn finished her cereal, put her bowl away, then went downstairs. She looked at the couch and thought about where she should sit. She decided to sit at the edge of the couch, where she could stretch her feet out, and also where Adrian could decide how far or close he wanted to sit to her.

About five minutes later, Carolyn heard Adrian coming down the stairs and into the basement. Carolyn turned her head; he had put a shirt on. Adrian got the PlayStation set up and handed Carolyn a controller, then he sat next to her on the couch. Then, Adrian turned to Carolyn and asked, “What kind of music do you like?”

A little caught off guard at the relatively platonic question, Carolyn took a moment to answer the question, then said, “Well, I love the Beatles, but I also really like Lady Gaga, Katy Perry, that kind of thing. I know it’s pretty girly stuff.”

“Well I’m not really into Katy Perry, but the Beatles are awesome.” Adrian explained.

“Really? I mean, how could you not? The Beatles are the best band ever.” Carolyn agreed.

“Yeah they really are. Here, give me a second before we start playing.” Adrian grabbed his phone and connected it to a speaker. Soon afterwards, Dig a Pony started floating through the room.

“Ooh great song.” Carolyn said enthusiastically. Soon enough, they were playing Spyro and Adrian was gently teaching her how to play. They spent the next hour or so playing Spyro, and Carolyn was finally starting to get the hang of it.

“Yes! Finally! Gah, I have never been able to get past that level!” Carolyn cheered at the accomplishment. Adrian laughed along with Carolyn’s cheering. Adrian sat his controller down and then turned towards Carolyn.

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” Adrian abruptly got serious.

“Umm, yeah, sure.” Carolyn said, caught off guard again.

“What happened with your mom?” Adrian asked cautiously.

“Oh, umm.” Carolyn paused, unsure what to say.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up something sensitive. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” Adrian reassured Carolyn, then he grabbed her hand and held it in his.

“Oh, no. It’s okay, I can talk about it.” Carolyn said, then she took a deep breath and continued, “Umm. So I’ll start at the beginning, it’ll be easier that way... Ever since I could remember, my mom would just randomly disappear. I remember riding in the backseat of the car countless times while my dad drove us through the neighborhood trying to find her. Eventually he’d find her, usually barefoot, running through the park or climbing on the ledge of a bridge. He would get her back and then I’d just start counting the days until she would do something else crazy. One time she went to the airport, bought a ticket to Vegas, and maxed 14 credit cards at a casino. Another time I remember her climbing onto the roof and threatening that she would jump.” Carolyn paused and looked at Adrian to see how freaked out he was. He was looking back at Carolyn, with his full attention focused on her, but didn’t look anything but caring.

“When she home she would hole up in her bedroom and stay in bed for days. I remember walking into her bedroom, and I saw her laying in bed completely still. I would try to talk to her, shake her to try and arouse her, but she would just sit there. It didn’t matter what we would do, she just wouldn’t move. It was like my mom had two speeds: either 100% go, or just completely shut down. My dad never knew how to handle it. He spent his whole life trying to make sure she was okay. When he wasn’t at work, he was taking care of her.

“So that left Sam and I to fend for ourselves for the most part. We learned pretty quickly how to handle things on our own. We would walk to the bus stop and go to the grocery store to get food, because there would be nothing in the house. We had to steal cash from my dad’s wallet to get the money to do so. Then, about 2 and a half years ago, my mom left for good.

“I knew something was up when she left because my dad didn’t go after her. After she left, he totally broke down. He would say nothing for weeks on end. He would just go to work, then come home and go straight to his room. And you pretty much know the story from there. I haven’t heard from my mom since she left; I have no idea where she is, no idea how to even contact her, and honestly, I don’t even know if she’s alive.” Carolyn hadn’t even realized the tears that were streaming down her face. She had never told anyone details about her mom.

Adrian bent over and wrapped his arms around Carolyn, pulling her close. She buried her head in Adrian’s chest and sobbed. She felt so safe in his arms. Adrian tucked his head on Carolyn’s shoulder, then he placed his large hand on her back. A few minutes later, Carolyn sniffled and slowly pulled her head up to look up at Adrian. Her eyes were puffy and red. Adrian reached his hand to Carolyn’s face and tucked her hair behind her ear.

“Thank you for telling me. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, and I am so sorry.” Adrian looked deep into Carolyn’s eyes and Carolyn noticed that Adrian’s eyes were glassy with tears.

“Thank you for listening. I’ve never told anyone any of that. It feels so good to have told someone.” Carolyn meant it, it was like there was a heaviness inside her that had lifted. The Beatles were still playing in the background, but much softer than before. Soon, the song ‘Julia’ came on.

When the chorus started, Adrian started softly singing along, “Julia, Julia, ocean child, calls me/ So I sing a song of love, Julia.” Carolyn smiled and rested her head on Adrian’s shoulder, listening to him sing the song John Lennon wrote for his mother. They spent the next hour or so listening to the Beatles with Carolyn’s head on Adrian’s shoulder, holding hands.

Carolyn heard footsteps coming down the staircase and she basically jumped out of her skin. She pushed Adrian off of her and turned around to see Sam coming down the stairs. Adrian scooted over on the couch and pulled his phone out quickly.

“Hey Sam! How’s it going? Are you still feeling okay?” Carolyn asked quickly.

“It’s good, I feel fine. I was just wondering where you were. Trixie, Brittany, and I were going to play a game of Monopoly and I didn’t know if you wanted to play too.” Sam asked.

“I’m in.” Carolyn quipped.

“Yay! Adrian, do you want to play?” Sam asked.

“Sure, I’ll play.” Adrian said coolly.

“Awesome!” Sam turned and ran upstairs. Carolyn exhaled deeply.

“Oh my god. That was too close. What if that had been your mom or Vera?” Carolyn said, shocked. Ever since last night, she was thinking that maybe this could actually work. Now she remembered why she was so hesitant.

“It wasn’t too bad. You can hear someone coming down the stairs with enough notice.” Adrian explained.

“You say this like you’ve had experience with this.” Carolyn said, with a little jealousy.

“Well, yeah, a little. All I can say is that the safest place in this house is the basement.” Adrian explained, trying to change the subject.

“I gotcha. Let’s go upstairs.” Carolyn said, feeling Adrian’s resistance. The two of them went upstairs and played Monopoly with the younger kids at the dining room table. They played for hours and had a ton of fun. There was one near-incident where Brittany didn’t want to foreclose a property to pay rent, so she started getting upset, but Adrian was able to calm her down. They came up with an idea that if you went bankrupt, you could be the banker. The game ended up being a battle between Trixie and Carolyn, with Adrian staying along to play banker. Sam and Brittany had retired to bed when they both became bankrupt.

Around midnight Trixie was declared the winner and the trio went upstairs to go to bed. Trixie closed her door, and Carolyn was just about to open her door when Adrian pulled her hand. He pulled her into his room and brought Carolyn near him. He gave her a quick kiss, then said “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” Carolyn said breathlessly. She walked out of Adrian’s room and into her own, then quickly drifted to sleep with a smile on her face.

Tag list: @the-mockingbird-of-neverland

#writeblr #original writing #young adult #fluff #WIP #new adult #writing #writblr #writers of tumblr #writeblr community #writers #glass kaleidoscopes

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