#while John just seems to act more out of emotion

[shortnspidey]

SILENT RIFT

jj maybank x fem!cameron!reader || WC: 4.5K

SUMMARY: The Pogues finally find the gold they've been searching for after countless obstacles. However, when it comes to actually succeeding, the universe has other plans. Held at gunpoint in the middle of nowhere, a spontaneous decision changes everything. In the heat of the moment, words are said that reveal hidden feelings. Emotions run high, leading them to confront not only their enemies, but also their own emotions.

WARNINGS: established relationship, cursing, mild angst, talks of drugs, typical OBX level violence, suggestive towards the end but no smut!

A/N: Happy OBX 4 release day! This one shot is one of my old Wattpad drafts from when I was writing a JJ story. Enjoy this drabble as I try to publish another chapter of broken record or collateral hearts soon! This ended up being a long one, enjoy! Divider by @marvelstoriesepic

➩ main masterlist

➩ obx masterlist

"Hell of a job melting it down, Dr. Frankenstein," JJ scoffed, narrowing his eyes at Kiara as he stepped out of the Twinkie. He clutched the melted piece of gold tightly in his hand, its weight a tangible reminder of what everyone was expecting him to do. As the group arrived outside a shabby pawn shop on the outskirts of the Outer Banks, the rundown aspect and the graffiti on the walls made your skin crawl. The shops window's were smeared with grime, making it impossible to see inside, and the peeling paint revealed patches of weathered wood.

Kiara shot JJ a glare, her frustration evident in the tight set of her jaw and the clenching of her fists. "Like you could have done any better." She retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. JJ stepped closer, standing toe to toe with her, not backing down from her challenging gaze. "I could have done much better. I took a welding class," He sassed, a smirk playing on his lips. "Woah, woah, hey!" John B chastised, stepping in between his two friends.

His presence seemed to diffuse some of the tension, his calm demeanor acting as a buffer between the two. You followed his lead, grabbing JJ by his arm and rubbing comforting circles with your thumb on his forearm knowing that he was anxious. You could feel the taut muscles in JJ's arm slowly beginning to relax under your touch, the rhythmic motion of your thumb providing a small measure of comfort.

"Chill out, okay?" John B coaxed, his voice gentle but firm. You watched as Kiara's eyes softened slightly, her earlier anger giving way to a mix of concern and frustration. She took a step back, her shoulders sagging as she exhaled deeply. "It's easy for you to say that," JJ scoffed, his voice tinged with bitterness. "You're not the one that has to pawn off this piece of shit." He emphasized his point by holding up the gold bars that were now melted in a unrecognizable shape, the once gleaming metal was now a twisted, misshapen lump.

"How did I get this job anyway?" JJ muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "Cause you're the best liar." Pope replied nonchalantly, his tone matter-of-fact. Letting out a sigh JJ turned to you, his cerulean blue eyes locking with yours. His eyes were a stormy sea, filled with a mix of frustration and determination. He turned his head, tapping his cheek. "Kiss, for you know, good luck." He grinned, his usual mischievous spark returning momentarily. You rolled your eyes at your boyfriends antics yet leaned in to kiss him nonetheless.

Just as your lips were about to collide with his cheek, he turned his head at the last second, smashing his lips with your in a kiss that was way too passionate for it to be in front of your friends. The warmth of his lips, the sudden intensity, made your heart race. You could have sworn you heard your sister mutter an "aww" while everyone else fake gagged, their exaggerated sounds filling the air. Pulling yourself away from the kiss, much to JJ's dismay, you smiled, leaning up and pressing one more chaste kiss to his pouting lips.

The brief contact left a lingering warmth, a promise of more to come. "You got this," You reassured him, squeezing his bicep in emphasis, feeling the tension in his muscles. "Showtime," He mumbled to himself, mentally preparing. Straightening his shoulders, he took a deep breath, and gave you one last look before stepping forward. Behind you, Sarah reached out and squeezed your hand, her grip offering a silent message of solidarity and support. The warmth of her touch was comforting, grounding you in the moment.

Everyone followed JJ into the empty shop, the jingle of the bell on the door announcing your arrival. The sound seemed to echo in the quiet space, a stark contrast to the tension that hung in the air. "Afternoon, ma'am." JJ greeted, his voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of anxiety. The shop was dimly lit, with dust particles dancing in the beams of barely there sunlight that filtered through the windows. Shelves lined the walls, filled with various trinkets and curiosities, each one telling its own story. “Afternoon.” The pawnbroker, an elderly woman with a stern face and piercing eyes, looked up from behind the counter.

Her gaze swept over your group as you spaced yourselves around the room, lingering on JJ for a moment longer. JJ stepped forward, trying to maintain his composure under her scrutinizing gaze. "I see you buy gold," He emphasized, his voice steady but with a hint of nervousness. "That's what the sign says, don't it?" She retorted, her lips curling into a sneer. She glanced at the sign hanging in the window, its letters faded and worn. "Well, I sure hope you buy a lot of it, because I am about to blow your mind." JJ carefully opened his bag, revealing the items inside. The pawnbroker's eyes never left his hands, watching his every move with a hawk-like intensity.

"I ain't got much mind left to blow, so have at it," She challenged, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Her eyes gleamed with a mix of defiance and curiosity. "How about them gold apples," JJ replied, his voice steady as he placed the melted gold onto the counter with a thump that echoed throughout the shop. The sound seemed to reverberate off the walls, adding a weighty finality to his action. The pawnbroker chuckled cynically, shaking her head. "That ain't real," She declared, her voice filled with disbelief and a hint of mockery. Her eyes flicked to the gold, then back to JJ, as if daring him to prove her wrong.

"That ain't real?" JJ scoffed, his eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. He leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a near whisper. "It can't be," The pawnbroker pressed, her voice faltering slightly as doubt began to creep in. She reached out a tentative hand, her fingers hovering just above the gold, as if afraid to touch it. "Feel how heavy it is," He countered, his voice firm and confident. He nudged the gold closer to her, the metal glinting under the dim light. The pawnbroker hesitated for a moment, her eyes locked on JJ's, searching for any sign of deceit. Finally, she picked up the gold, her fingers curling around it.

Her expression shifted from skepticism to surprise as she felt the weight of the metal in her hand. The shop fell silent, the only sound being the faint creak of the floorboards as she adjusted her stance, the gold weighing heavily in her grasp. "Mhm, here let's get some light on that." The group watched intently as she narrowed her eyes, but nevertheless picked up a nearby magnifying glass with a light, inspecting the chunk of gold closely. "Spray-painted tungsten." She concluded, her voice laced with doubt but still firm.

"Really, okay?" JJ rolled his eyes. "Why don't you see how soft it is." He suggested. "You mind?" The pawnbroker asked, holding up a small mallet, her eyes seeking permission. "No, go for it." JJ urged, his gaze unwavering as he watched her. She brought the mallet down gently, making a small dent in the gold, then pushed down on it for further inspection. "Wow. Would you look at that." JJ remarked sarcastically, a smirk playing on his lips. "Hold your horses, we ain't got the acid test yet." She shot back, her confidence wavering slightly. "Ooh, the acid test," He turned, his eyes locking onto yours, a mischievous glint in them.

"My favorite, baby." He added with a wink, grinning as he noticed how the simple action made you flush. You pretended to be distracted by a limited edition book on the shelf, your heart racing as you tried to avoid his piercing gaze. This was certainly not the place or time. Everyone held their breath as the woman dribbled a few drops of acid on top of the gold. The liquid sizzled slightly, emitting a faint, acrid smell that filled the small shop. "Well, it ain't plated, and it ain't painted," she assessed, her tone now more serious. "Ma'am, I'm telling ya, this is as real as the day is long," He insisted, growing tired of the back and forth, his patience wearing thin.

"It looks like someone tried to melt it down," she raised a brow, her eyes meeting JJ's in a challenging gaze. The air seemed to crackle with unspoken accusations. "My mom," You stepped in, linking your arm through JJ's as the pawnbroker eyed you both suspiciously. "She had all this jewelry laying around the house, and she thought it was best to melt it down to "consolidate" it." You tried to sound as convincing as possible, your voice steady despite the nervous flutter in your stomach. The lie felt heavy on your tongue, but you pushed through, hoping it would be enough to satisfy her.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Sarah bite her lip to stop the laugh that she almost let out at your evident lie. The pawnbrokers gaze flickered between you and JJ, her skepticism evident. The silence stretched, each second feeling like an eternity. Turning around with a sigh, she placed the gold into a small scale behind the counter, the scale creaked under the weight. "Seven pounds," Her eyes widened. "That's a lot of earrings." Her voice had a hint of disbelief, and you could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she tried to piece together your story.

"Okay, to be honest, ma'am," JJ spoke, clearing his throat and adopting a more somber tone. "It's really hard to see my fiancé's mom fall apart with Alzheimer's. Breaks my heart, truly." His voice wavered slightly, adding an authentic touch to the fabricated story. "Give me a minute." She tsked, walking towards a secluded office. JJ nodded solemnly, playing into the act of the heartbroken fiancé. "Take your time, ma'am." As soon as she was out of earshot, you turned to give JJ a look of disbelief. "Alzheimer's really?" You whispered, trying to keep your voice low. The absurdity of the situation was almost too much to handle, and you could feel a nervous giggle bubbling up inside you.

"So I talked to my boss, and this is what I can do." The pawnbroker returned, holding a piece of paper with a price written on it. Inspecting it, JJ raised his brows. "Fifty thousand?" He repeated, his voice tinged with incredulity. The offer was far lower than what you had hoped for, and you could see the frustration building in JJ's eyes. "You think I walked in here not knowin' the spot price?" JJ retorted, his voice firm. "I know for a fact this is worth 140 at least." His confidence was unwavering, and you could see the pawnbroker's resolve starting to crack. "Well sweetie, you in a pawn shop. This ain't Zurich." Her voice was firm, but there was a hint of concession in her tone.

"Ninety, or I walk," He bargained, his voice steady. "Seventy, half price, and I don't ask questions about where you got this.” JJ clenched his jaw, looking over at John B, who nodded his head, giving him the green light. "I'm gonna need that in large denominations, please," JJ agreed, his voice calm but resolute. "Well, here's the snag, I don't have that much denominated. Not here anyway, but I can write you a cashier's check." JJ immediately shook his head. “No ma’am, I want the cold hard, that’s what that sign says. Cash for gold, and that’s what I expect.” He pointed to the sign on the wall as emphasis.

“Well, I have to send you to the warehouse. I have the money there. Is that alright?” Everyone in the room held their breath, watching as JJ mentally weighed his options over in his head. “Where’s this warehouse?” He finally asked, his voice steady but with a hint of skepticism. That is how the group found themselves further into the middle of nowhere following the pawnbroker's instructions to the supposed "warehouse". The road was rough and winding, lined with tall, ominous trees that seemed to close in on them as they drove deeper into the unknown.

To say you were on edge would have been a complete understatement. Every creak of the van and small jolt from where you were seated on JJ's lap made your heart race faster. "So, they keep money out here?" Pope voiced aloud the question everyone was probably thinking. His voice broke the silence, but instead of easing the tension, it only seemed to heighten it. The unease in his tone mirrored the anxiety that had settled in your chest. JJ shrugged, attempting to lighten the mood. "That's what she said," He chuckled at his own joke. "That's what she said." His snicker was met with silence, the gravity of their situation overshadowing any chance of humor.

"Stop," Pope warned, his expression hardening. The seriousness in his eyes was a stark contrast to JJ's attempt at levity. "That was cute, but definitely not the time, J," You exasperated, your voice barely above a whisper. The fear and uncertainty in your tone were unmistakable. The blonde boy nodded, his playful demeanor fading. He held onto the melted gold in one hand, the other resting reassuringly on your thigh. The warmth of his touch was a small comfort in the midst of the overwhelming tension. "I've never even heard of Resurrection Drive." Sarah inquired. "That's cause your rich." JJ mumbled under his breath.

"You've never heard of it either." Both you and Kiara retorted in unison. "Thank you." Sarah replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "There's nothing but weeds back here." Kiara informed the group, looking out the van's window and seeing nothing but shrubbery. JJ was about to retort with another sarcastic comment, yet he was interrupted by the sudden, piercing sound of a siren. The noise sliced through the tense silence like a knife. Sure enough, John B looked in the rearview mirror, his eyes widening as he saw the flashing lights of a car behind them, signaling for them to pull over.

"Cops? Out here?" Kiara questioned, her voice tinged with disbelief. "Are you kidding me!" JJ fumed, his grip tightening on the gold and your thigh, the panic in his eyes was evident. "What did we do?" Sarah questioned, her voice small and wavering, the fear clear in her tone. "Stash that," John B whispered urgently to JJ, who was still holding onto the gold in his hand. You quickly got off his lap and sat next to Kiara, your heart pounding in your chest. The van's interior felt even more confined as Pope and John B coaxed JJ to hurry up. The oppressive weight of the situation pressed down on you, making every second feel like an eternity as you waited for what would happen next.

Your heart sank in your chest upon hearing the cock of a gun and seeing a rifle a few inches away from John B's face. The metallic click echoed ominously in the confined space of the van. "Why don't I go ahead and see them hands in the air?" A gruff voice declared, belonging to a mystery assailant who wore a bandana on the lower half of his face. The fear that gripped your heart quickly morphed into a seething anger. You knew that voice. "All of y'alls hands up in the air right now." Oh hell no, you thought to yourself. This was going to end here and now. "No," You seethed, making direct eye contact with your assailant. You could tell by the look in his eyes that he knew you recognized him, and his cover slipped slightly.

The tension in the van was palpable, like a coiled spring ready to snap. Every muscle in your body was tense, ready to spring into action. The familiarity of the voice only fueled your anger, making it harder to think clearly. You could feel the eyes of your friends on you, their fear and confusion mirroring your own. "Just do as he says, Y/N," John B urged, his voice steady but his eyes betraying his fear. He slowly raised his hands, setting an example for the rest of you. "No," You shook your head, challenging him. The defiance in your voice was clear. The assailant's eyes narrowed behind the bandana.

"Alright, tough girl, come on out here then," He taunted, his voice dripping with mockery. "Y/N, what are you doing?" Sarah whimpered, her voice trembling as she watched you step out of the van, the barrel of the gun trained on you. "It's gonna be okay, Sarah," You reassured her, trying to keep your voice calm despite the fear gnawing at your insides. "Y/N!" This time it was JJ. His voice cracked with desperation. As your eyes met his, you could see he was barely holding it together, his usual bravado nowhere to be found. "JJ, trust me, stay here," You coaxed, trying to project as much confidence as you could muster. The last thing you needed was for him to do something reckless.

"I'd listen to the lady, unless you want your brain scattered here on the side of the road," The assailant threatened, his voice cold and unyielding. The weight of his words hung in the air, adding to the already suffocating tension. "I'll be okay, I'll be right back," You promised, hoping your words would be enough to keep your friends from doing anything rash. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever was to come, and stepped further away from the van, feeling the eyes of your friends burning into your back. Once you were a safe distance away from the van, Barry lowered his rifle, letting out a surprised chuckle. "Mighty brave of you, Cameron, especially 'cause I'm the one holdin' the gun." He mocked.

"Oh please," You rolled your eyes, your voice laced with disdain. "Drop the act, Barry," Addressing him by his name with a tone of authority, you crossed your arms over your chest, standing your ground. "We both know Rafe will kill you if you so much as lay a finger on me." You smirked confidently. "Now, why don't we cut to the chase, shall we?" You proposed, your eyes never leaving his as you reached for the shiny gold diamond ring that adorned your knuckle. Barry watched in disbelief as you slipped it off and held it out to him. "Here," You coaxed, handing him the ring. "This will get you a couple thousand dollars if you pawn it off right." Barry took the ring, studying it in the sunlight. "This covers what you and your friends got, but not what country club owes me, you feel me.”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest once more, the frustration evident in your posture. "How much does he owe you?" You asked, your voice tinged with exasperation. "At least two hundred," Barry replied, a smirk playing on his lips. Sighing, you reached into your back pocket for your wallet, picking out two hundred dollar bills. "Are we free to go?" You huffed, knowing that if this deal took any longer, your boyfriend would most likely come and take matters into his own hands, whether Barry had a gun or not. "Tell your boy toy that his attitude's gonna get him in trouble," Barry sneered. "Don't," You spat, your eyes narrowing. "If you even think of touching him, we're going to have a problem. You feel me?" You threw back his previous words with a defiant glare.

Raising his hands in mock surrender "Damn, looks like I hit a nerve." Barry chuckled. "I mean it, Barry," You insisted, your voice steady and unwavering. With one final smirk in your direction, Barry pockets the cash and the ring and climbs into his car without a single look back in your direction. You let out a breath you didn't realize you'd been holding and turn back towards the van. As you approached, the tension was palpable, hanging thick in the air. "What the hell was that?" Sarah was the first to question you, her eyes wide with concern as you climbed into the backseat as if nothing had happened.

"I handled it, it's over." You shrugged nonchalantly, but the tightness in your chest betrayed your calm facade. Sarah scoffed, clearly unconvinced by your bravado. "That was pretty stupid, Y/N," Kiara scolded, her voice filled with frustration. Everyone nodded in agreement, their faces a mix of worry and disapproval. You shrugged them off, trying to meet JJ's eyes, who had yet to say anything. You could see the worry and anger battling for dominance in his eyes, the tension in his jaw making it clear just how much he was holding back. "Let's get out of here," John B broke the silence, his voice a calm command that cut through the tension. Everyone was unharmed, yet you somehow knew this was far from over.

Arriving back at the Château, you watched JJ throw open the door before John B even parked his van. The sound of the door slamming against the wall echoed through the air. You watched as JJ stormed inside, his movements quick and agitated. One hand was gripping his chest, his knuckles white from the pressure, while the other was balled into a tight fist, veins visible under his skin. He didn't look back, his anger propelling him forward. John B, Kiara, Sarah, and Pope turned to you, their faces a mix of concern and curiosity. It was as if they were silently asking if they should get involved, their eyes darting between you and the direction JJ had gone.

"I'll handle it," You sighed, feeling the weight of the situation settle on your shoulders. You stepped down from the van, the gravel crunching under your feet. "Good luck," John B sing-songed, a teasing lilt in his voice. You flipped him off with a smirk, hearing Sarah and Kiara scold him in unison. Their voices faded as you walked through the door, the familiar scent of the Château enveloping you. You found JJ in the spare bedroom, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. His footsteps were heavy, each step reverberating through the wooden floor. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, filled with a storm of emotions - anger, frustration, and a hint of vulnerability.

"JJ, talk to me," You urged softly, stepping closer. Your voice was calm, trying to soothe the tempest within him. He stopped pacing and turned to face you fully. His expression was a mix of anger and hurt, his jaw clenched tightly. "What the hell were you thinking, Y/N? You could've gotten yourself killed!" His voice cracked slightly, betraying the fear behind his anger. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, but you took a deep breath to steady yourself. "He's the scumbag who sells coke to my brother. I know him and what he's capable of. As much of a psychotic asshole as he is, he wouldn't hurt me. Not without facing Rafe's wrath." That only made JJ angrier. "How are you so sure?"

He shook his head, his eyes narrowing as he stepped closer, the space between you shrinking. "Maybe next time you won't be so lucky, or I won't be there to protect you." His voice was low, almost a growl, and you could see the worry etched into his features, mingling with the anger. His fists were clenched at his sides, and his breathing was ragged. "I'm fine," you replied, trying to sound reassuring. "It's over now." "Over?!" JJ's voice rose, and he ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. "Dammit Y/N, you don't get it!" He screamed, pulling his hair in frustration. "I was fucking terrified. Did you know how scared I felt, watching the woman I love being held at gunpoint?" His voice broke, and you could see the tears welling up in his eyes, though he tried to blink them away.

You opened your mouth, but nothing seemed to come out. The weight of his words hung in the air, heavy and significant. "What did you just say?" You finally managed to whisper, your heart pounding in your chest. JJ stayed quiet, almost as if processing the words himself. His breathing slowed, and he looked away, his shoulders slumping. The vulnerability in his stance was palpable, and it hit you just how deeply he cared. This was more than just anger; it was fear of losing someone he couldn't bear to lose. "JJ," You coaxed to stop him from overthinking, knowing that his flight or fight mode was kicking in.

JJ's confession hung in the air, the raw emotion in his voice making your heart ache. You could see the fear and love in his eyes, and it made everything else fade away. The room seemed to shrink, and all that mattered was the two of you, standing there, vulnerable and exposed. "I love you, Y/N," He repeated, his voice softer this time, filled with a desperate need for you to understand. He took a hesitant step closer, his eyes searching yours for any sign of rejection. Your breath hitched, the intensity of the moment overwhelming. Without thinking, you closed the distance between you, your hands reaching up to cup his face. "I'm so sorry, JJ," You whispered, your voice trembling.

"I didn't mean to scare you, but I couldn't just stand there and do nothing either." His eyes softened, the anger melting away as he leaned into your touch. "Just promise me you'll be more careful," He murmured, his forehead resting against yours. "I can't lose you, Y/N." He whimpered leaning his forehead against yours. "You won’t lose me, ever, I promise," You replied, your voice barely above a whisper. Without another word, you both closed the distance between one another, your lips meeting in a kiss that was both tender and fervent. It was a kiss that spoke of all the fear, the love, and the relief you both felt. Bodies pressed together, seeking comfort and connection, hearts beating as one.

“And I love you too,” You grinned the second he pulled away giving you both a moment to catch your breaths. “In case that kiss didn’t make it clear enough.” JJ shook his head, only pulling you closer. "What do you say we seal the deal?" JJ grinned suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows. "You're lucky I love you." He didn't even give you a chance to finish his sentence before he kissed you again, wanting to show you just how much he meant it. His hands slid down your back, pulling you even closer, the heat between you growing more intense. The world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you in a moment that promised so much more to come.

[starry-eyedblog]

legitimately the only thing I can think of is husband!price coddling his partner, they're all bleary eyed from crying out of desperation for physical touch since he's been deployed for so long- just the pure neediness. needing him there in every way, physically and emotionally. just like him muttering small "'m here, I have you baby" or "feels too good now that I'm back, yeah? gonna take all of me anyways, love"

(the last sentence is nsfw but either way just... the reader being needy for him in every way when he returns home)

- cruel anon

cruel anon hello !! how are you? you're constantly keeping me fed with ideas and i love it. i need price to soothe me in his arms while i cry

warnings/tags: john price x gn reader, crying, clinginess, smut

you've spent most of this month in tears, desperate to be in your husbands arm, safe and sound. for some reason, his latest deployment was taking a real toll on you.

days seemed longer and the house felt too big without him. cooking just for yourself was becoming more difficult and going out to socialise just didn't seem to fill the gap in your chest.

but finally, it was the day he was coming home. you knew that his time home would fly by and you'd be waving him goodbye again, but thankfully he had been given a wee bit longer off this time due to how demanding and rough his latest deployment had been.

you were now waiting in the living room, sipping on a tea anxiously while you waited for the front door to open. any minute now and he'd be kicking his shoes off and sweeping you off your feet in a bear hug.

after around fifteen minutes, you had finished your cup and decided to go pour another. as you stood up from the comfy chair, that's when you heard the swift click on the front door.

you dropped the cup down, uncaring of where it lands as you rushed through the hallway to the front door. tears instantly pooled in your eyes, making your vision a bit blurry but you didn't care. all that mattered was that your husband was finally home again.

"hey honey, miss me?" john chuckles, dropping his bags onto the floor to open up his arms for you - which you happily ran into. he picked you up, squeezing you tightly before gently setting you back down.

salty tears streamed down your face as you pressed kiss after kiss onto his lips and face. after a minute of this, warm hands gently cupped your face, forcing you to stop moving and stare up. "hey, shh what's wrong baby?" john soothes while using a thumb to rub away some tears.

"i don't know, i guess i've just missed you a lot." you sniffle, your hands wrapping around his waist and holding on tight, never wanting to let go. your chest feels light now that your husband is back safe and sound.

john leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, "well i'm here now huh? not going anywhere honey." he whispers and you nod slowly, tears still streaming down your face.

it's been a few weeks since then, and your emotions haven't got much better. you cling to john where he moves around the house, desperate to just be with him. his physical touch always settles you, keeps you happy and calm.

john hasn't minded, he honestly thinks it's cute. you're acting like a needy house cat, and he's more than happy to treat and spoil you. the two of you haven't really gone out to be with friends since he's been back, too wrapped up in re connecting with one another to even think of leaving the house.

completing simple tasks around the house requires him by your side now, and whenever anything get's too much or goes wrong - he's quick to step in and help. you feel like you've struck gold with your husband. most people would find this emotional and physical clinginess too much, but not john.

he understands how hard it must be for you to be home alone for months on end, trying to keep everything together while also making sure you're getting out enough and staying on top of things. he's always well taken care of too when he gets back, you pamper him to the point he doesn't need to lift a finger.

this time though, it's you needing that extra support and closeness and john is more than happy to be there however you need. after all, why wouldn't he? john loves you, deeply.

it becomes even more apparent during sex, the way you cling to him and never want to let go. being able to have his bare skin on you while he fills you up is so comforting. he's surrounding you with his body, voice and scent; to the point where all you can think about is 'john john john john john.'

you cry and moan, gripping onto him while he slowly slides in. his lips are pressed to your ear, whispering filthy things. "feels so good that i'm back, right sweetheart? oh i know i know, c'mon you can take all of it i know you can. s'just been awhile yeah?"

it's emotional and euphoric, the way you tighten around him while tears stream down your face. he loves the sight of you broken before him, so dependant and trusting. it's something he'll never forget for the rest of his life.

the fact you trust him so deeply, letting him pleasure you to the point of exhaustion, still gripping onto him and crying for him. how could any man ignore such a beautiful bond with his wife?

[honeychamomile1]

Not So Pretty

JJ Maybank x ex!fem!reader

Summary: No one, I mean no one, can be okay after a break up and that is just something that is shown to be proven not told.

Warnings: Light violence, mention of glass shattering, drinking underage (it’s JJ after all), crying, comfort, etc.

Note: Part three of “Pretty” series! I hope you guys enjoy! Also, @sunndroppp this is my apology for being so late! Please forgive me lol. :)

👉 Series Masterlist 👈

John B

“John B.” I heard in a sing-song voice, a tiny laugh escaping the person who was trying to disturb my sleep.

I opened my eyes with great effort, eyes fluttering a couple times before I had a clear visual of who was interrupting my slumber.

“Whoah, what the heck, man?!” I blurted, sitting up quickly, pulling the blanket with me to cover myself with its warmth.

JJ Maybank was standing over my bed, his face previously only a couple centimeters from mine. He laughed, mouth opened wide in a smile as he startled me awake.

“It’s nothing personal, I just wanted to wake my buddy up.” He explained, chuckling again.

For a second I almost questioned why he was acting this way; acting like everything was okay after he abandoned the one girl he truly loved, but I couldn’t know how he deals with his feelings, and I didn’t want to ruin his day by bringing it up; the last thing I wanted was to uncover feelings he previously buried.

Instead I only rolled my eyes, reaching up to rub the sleep out of them. My mouth opened in a yawn. “What do you want, JJ?”

He smiled and nudged my arm with his elbow. “Don’t know, you tell me.”

I glared at him. “You’re telling me that you woke me up for no reason at all?”

He smirked but his lips wavered. “Not for no reason, you can still make me breakfast now that you’re up.”

I grabbed the nearest pillow I had nearby and threw it at him, the object successfully hitting him right in the chest.

“Make your own breakfast, Maybank.” I teasingly snarled, and he laughed, walking out of the room so he wouldn’t annoy me further.

When I later went down stairs, I saw JJ sitting on the counter, a beer bottle in his hand. The same hands she used to kiss and hold, guiding him where she wanted to go while giggling at his complaints.

I laughed half-heartedly. “Already drinking somethin’?”

JJ huffed, a smile being forced on his lips as he looked at the glass in his hand, almost like he didn’t realize it was there until now. “Yeah, I guess so.”

My eyebrows furrowed, confusion flooding my senses. “You okay?”

He bit the inside of his cheek, taking off his hat with his free hand, ruffling his hair strands before putting the cap back on. He then seemed to flip his usual emotion switch on, a very forced smile stretching his lips. “‘Course, why wouldn’t I be?”

I felt a look of uncertainty surround my features since I couldn’t help but show it. No one, I mean no one, can be okay after a break up and that is just something that is shown to be proven not told.

“Nothing,” I started, and felt a sarcastic comment come up my throat. “Not like you just broke up with someone or anything.”

JJ’s jaw clenched, giving the impression his teeth were clashing together uncomfortably. It twitched, not seeming to be unlocking any time soon. “Shut up.”

Normally when JJ told me that kind of stuff I would laugh and refuse to do so, teasing him by pushing his shoulder. He would normally give me that kind of come-get-me-grin, testing me once again to see if I’d dare to make my response something along the lines of ‘make me.’

But this was serious, his voice stern as he looked, more like glared, at me. His hands turned white as he squeezed the beer bottle’s neck. For some reason my chest tightened in fear of it shattering, picturing glass particles everywhere like flickering lights. Of course, I knew JJ was strong but not that capable capable to break a glass bottle, but the fear was sitting in me nonetheless.

“Why?” I asked, confusion taking a seat next to the fear in my chest. “I am telling the truth, aren’t I?”

JJ’s jaw was still locked, eyes set on a wall across the kitchen, silently asking it a question and waiting for it to answer.

“Aren’t I?” I repeated, trying to squeeze the answer out of him like squeezing the juice out of a lemon, and I awaited the sour response of the truth.

“And what if you are?” He suddenly snapped, blue eyes making sharp eye contact with mine. I didn’t flinch, for I couldn’t do so, and I wasn’t scared enough to do it in the first place. There it was, the sour taste on my tongue.

I am never scared of JJ, and today will not be the time that changes.

So I stood my ground, looking in right back in the eye as he continued his outburst. “That doesn’t change anything, because I’m over it.”

His voice was so straight, straight as a line, not wavering whatsoever. But I knew him, and that last part of what he said had a dip in tone. “Yeah right.”

He slapped his eyes away for mine and back to the wall in front of him, legs swinging softly back and forth. His boots that still covered his feet-the fact alone bothered me a little- softly hit the cabinets below the counter, it closing and opening, closing and opening, closing and openi-

“Stop that will you?” I blurted, gesturing to his feet but instead is stopping he just jumped off the counter all together, setting the beer down on the surface he was previously sitting on and starting right for me.

His hands, the ones she used to hold grabbed me harshly by the shoulders, a face with nothing but rage fight in mine. His eyes darkened, they shined with anger as he dove me to the ground, the harsh kitchen floor beneath me.

A flashback to when we were younger, his tiny body squealing with laughter as he playfully pushed me down, the grass smacking my back as I attempted to wrestle back.

But this moment wasn’t playful, and if I didn’t stop him, I felt the growing fear he would actually hurt me.

“Hey, hey, hey!” I shouted, grabbing his shoulders and pushing him off me. I met his face, his eyes, and saw soft tears laid over them.

“Hey, man, what’s wrong?” I asked him softly, our legs bending to stand up again, my hands still on his shoulders to hold him steady.

“I-…sorry.” He swallowed, his hand lightly pushed mine off him before shooting to his hair, the blond strands being tangled within his fingers. I was worried he was gonna pull his hair out the more he pulled; I could almost feel the harsh tugs on his head on my own.

“Hey, no need to be sorry, tell me what’s going on.” I assured, and I felt my eyes following his body as he walked further into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as he roughly rubbed at his eyes, making the areas red quite quickly.

He then covered both his eyes with his palms, fingers touching both of his ears. “I-I broke up with her.”

This is information we both already knew, but seeing him with this much emotion flowing within him it wasn’t something I didn’t expect. I often believe that this was a stage of healing, of communication about one’s feelings before they discuss what the next step will be. And that part right there, the statement that JJ made, was a topic sentence to ease into the deeper meaning on why he broke up with her, not just the statement of action.

“I was so stupid, B.” He grumbled out, each breath he took seeming to increase pressure on his face with his hands.

I didn’t say anything, I chose not to, for I was worried I would interfere too much with the non-stop emotions flowing through him. So I stayed put, my feet gluing themselves to the ground on their own. I could have stepped forward, touched his shoulder affectionately and attempted to provide some comfort, but that would make him uncomfortable, and that was one of the last things I wanted. So I continued to stay put.

“Breakin’ up with her like that,” he continued to ramble, eyes still covered with his hands as he shook his head, disappointed with himself. “She must be broken, man.”

This time I wanted to respond, swallowing thickly. “Yeah, Pope was talking to her; he said she was crying.”

JJ shook his head harder. “Don’t.”

“Sorry, but it’s true.” I pried, my feet deciding to unstick and step forward, getting only a little bit closer to him. He needed to know the truth; what he did to her.

“I’m so upset with myself.” He said suddenly, clearly wanting to change the subject, and once again the statement is true. Gonna be honest, he was stupid, and he does look upset, so both statements just add to the pile of negative thoughts that are running through his head.

“Why’d you do it, man? Because I know it wasn’t because you stopped lovin’ her.”

“Not like I ever could.” He grumbled once again, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He finally took them out of his hair, I noticed almost right away, his strands left pointing to and fro in the air.

“Stop avoiding the question.” I stated. I had enough. I know I reacted confused and determined before, but now I’m feeling impatience forming within my chest, replacing the previous emotions. I want him to answer me, and I want him to answer me right now.

He sighed. “It’s stupid.”

“Yet stupid things have good outcomes?” I quoted the motto he claims all the time, raising an eyebrow, testing him.

He huffed, right hand coming to his hair strands again. “My dad.”

The words were breathed out roughly, and I was lucky I heard them because I don’t think he would want to repeat it if I asked him to.

“Look, I get it man, but you can’t break her as a way of protection.” I informed, knowing how wide of possible reactions he might have, but I say it anyway. Because not only did it need to be said, but also he isn’t protecting her in the right way.

“I know, but it was the only way I could think of, how else am I supposed to protect her? Let him beat her up like he does to me?”

I couldn’t help but step back at his outburst. My mind was so blank it couldn’t even picture it, the man who called himself JJ’s dad laying any sort of hand on her.

The thought couldn’t help itself but slip into my brain, picturing his hands on her, pure fear in her eyes as she cried for help, begging for her lover that left her broken inside.

“Don’t talk like that.” I ordered at him, forcing myself to erase the image from my mind.

“Well if I haven’t broken up with her, that imagine would’ve become reality. So I left her.”

The fact that he shrugged afterwards, like the answer was that simple; almost like it was normal for him to do that.

“What about the whole time you were together? You weren’t worried about your dad then.”

“Well he wasn’t exactly mindful of her was he? He knows, John B,” JJ almost snapped right back at me.

“Does it even matter at this point, does it, J? I know you’ll do anything to protect her.”

“Yeah, I do!” He blurted. “And that thing I did was leave her. She deserves someone better, someone whose father doesn’t beat them up. Someone who can love her and not worry about his father hurting her.”

I couldn’t help it, I pulled him in towards me and wrapped my arms around his shoulders, bringing him into a hug.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay,” I whispered.

“Y-you were right, I’m not okay. I-“ he paused, a shaky breath aruptintg in his chest. “I miss her,” he breathed out in a soft whimper.

It was a soft moment, a side I didn’t really see of JJ except when we were kids and he scrapped his knee.

He learned to dig it deep down within himself as he got older, but I always knew that certain things made him crack, and she was one of those things. One of those beautiful, precious things that didn’t deserve to be hurt in any way.

“It’s okay,” I whispered again, not quite knowing what to say. I didn’t want to say something and spark any anger in him, so I continued to soothe the best way I could.

It seems to work, JJ’s breathing calmed down as his fingers practically dug crescent moons into my arms.

“…JJ?”

The body I was holding tensed up, stiffened into a board even.

He pulled away, eyes wide with pure terror, and confusion took over me, looking around, but seeing no one. No one at all.

“What’s wrong? You okay?” I asked, his hands sweaty on my arms before he pulled them away, his breathing picking up a bit.

He swallowed thickly, and I could almost feel how dry his throat was.

“N-nothing, I thought I heard someon-something.”

________________________________________

People I wanted to tag!

@immyowndefender @stephstephstephsteph @tairodriguess2010

________________________________________

Like, reblog, and comment to make me happy!! 🫶🏻

[gardenschedule]

What Happened In India?

(or around that time...)

Before

Shortly before we were due to leave for India John spent the weekend with Derek Taylor, a former journalist who had become the Beatles' press spokesman and a good friend to us all. He, his wife Joan and their five children lived in a big country house where they seemed incredibly contented. When he came home after that weekend John put his arms around me and said, 'Let's have loads more kids, Cyn, and be really happy' Despite my increasingly strong feeling that John was slipping away from me, it seemed at moments like that as though nothing had changed. John was off drugs and seemed almost like his old self. 'We can make it work, Cyn,' he said. 'When we're in India we'll have time for us and everything will be fine.' I hoped he was right.

John (Cynthia Lennon)

Cyn hoped that Rishikesh would afford seclusion, privacy and an opportunity for her and John to rediscover each other and to revive their marriage. ‘Impossible hopes,’ she said sadly. ‘John said to me just before we went to India that he wanted us to have more children. Well that came out of the blue, I can tell you. I was really surprised, as he’d never said a word about that before.

Lesley-Ann Jones - The Search for John Lennon

Cynthia: “It was a time for us all to drop out for a while. The years of fame and fortune had taken their toll on our nerves and minds. John and I both felt closer. There seemed to be a greater possibility of our finding a solution to personal difficulties. If our trip to India wasn’t going to solve our emotional problems, then nothing would.”

The Beatles Off the Record (Keith Badman)

That letter made it crystal clear that they [John and Yoko] had been in contact. How well had they got to know one another? I tackled John, who told me she'd written many times, both letters and cards, but said, 'She's crackers, just a weirdo artist who wants me to sponsor her. Another nutter wanting money for all that avant-garde bullshit. It's not important.' I had no way of knowing whether he was telling me the truth. He sounded genuine, but a sixth sense told me there was more to this than he was admitting. I tried to put it to the back of my mind. We were going to India, and I wanted that to be a special time for us.

John (Cynthia Lennon)

John panicked at the accumulating threats from the Princess of Darkness. That was when he decided to go to India with Cynthia to put some distance between himself and Yoko. If he stayed away long enough, he could hope Yoko would just go away. Maybe she’d go back to America, or vanish in a puff of smoke. Her scissors act might go horribly wrong, or while she was bagged up one day the Royal Mail might frank the bag and deliver it to anywhere but India. Yes, a long trip to the ashram, where he could meditate and learn how to be calm and in control, give up drugs and spend romantic moments with Cynthia and glue his crumbling marriage back together, seemed opportune.

Magical Mystery Tours My Life with The Beatles by Tony Bramwell

“I don’t like the unhappiness she [Yoko] caused. She was horrible. John wanted to avoid her at first. He said, ‘Get rid of the bloody woman!’ But after India, he saw her differently — perhaps filtered through an exotic mindset.”

Tony Bramwell - the band’s ex-road manager

During

“The pressure of being the Beatles had driven a wedge between them individually and that had all percolated in the months leading up to their visit to Rishikesh,” he said. “Once they got there, and they unburdened themselves from all of that, they reconnected with their songwriting and their creativity. It just flowed forth.”

Bob Spitz to the New York Times

 “I was in a room for five days meditating,” said Lennon in The Beatles Anthology. “I wrote hundreds of songs. I couldn’t sleep and I was hallucinating like crazy, having dreams where you could smell. I’d do a few hours and they you’d trip off, three- or four-hour stretches. It was just a way of getting there, and you could go on amazing trips.” Cynthia Lennon said in Bob Spitz’s book The Beatles that for John, nothing else mattered when it came to mediation, adding “John and George were [finally] in their element [at the ashram]. They threw themselves totally into the Maharishi’s teachings, were happy, relaxed and above all found a piece of mind that had been denied them for so long.”

The Beatles in India: 16 Things You Didn’t Know

I was right in the Maharishi’s camp writing “I wanna die” you know. I’m So Tired and Yer Blues where they were pretty sort of realistic, you know, they were about me

Lennon Remembers

Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da was born on the steps of one of the low slung cottages where the entourage lived. One day, remembers Saltzman, he was passing by the cottage when he saw Lennon and McCartney sitting on the front steps and strumming the tune on their acoustic guitars. He ran back, picked up the camera and took pictures of the two with a pensive-looking Starr sitting on the side, from outside a wicket gate. Saltzman remembers the two were singing the first two lines of the song "over and over again, going fast and slow, having fun". "That's the riff we have," McCartney told Saltzman, "but no words yet".

filmmaker Paul Saltzman

Jenny Boyd, Patti’s sister “I sat with John a lot, since he didn’t feel well, either from terrible jet lag, and insomnia. He would stay up late; unable to sleep, and write the songs that would later appear on The Beatles’ White Album. When I was at my lowest, he made a drawing of a turbaned Sikh genie holding a big snake and intoning, ‘By the power within, and the power without, I cast your tonsil lighthouse out!’ Sometimes, late at night, I can still hear John singing those sad songs he wrote during those evenings, like ‘I’m So Tired.’”

The Beatles Off the Record (Keith Badman)

John “I went to the Maharishi and, regardless of what I was supposed to be doing, I did write some of my best songs while I was there. It was a nice scene. Nice and secure and everybody was always smiling. The experience was worth it if only for the songs that came out. It could have been the desert or Ben Nevis. The funny thing about the Maharishi camp was that, although it was very beautiful and I was meditating about eight hours a day, I was writing the most miserable songs on earth, like ‘I’m So Tired’ and ‘Yer Blues.’”

The Beatles Off the Record (Keith Badman)

Meanwhile, I was not having the second honeymoon I'd hoped for. John was becoming increasingly cold and aloof towards me. He would get up early and leave our room. He spoke to me very little, and after a week or two he announced that he wanted to move into a separate room to give himself more space. From then on he virtually ignored me, both in private and in public. If the others noticed they didn't say so. I did my best to understand, begging him to explain what was wrong. He fobbed me off, telling me that it was just the effect of the meditation. 'I can't feel normal doing all this stuff,' He said. 'I'm trying to get myself together. It's nothing to do with you. Give me a break.' What I didn't know was that each morning he rushed down to the post office to see if he had a letter from Yoko. She was writing to him almost daily. When I learnt this later I felt very hurt.

John (Cynthia Lennon)

And because the Beatles didn’t know anything about ashrams and they haven’t seen anything before because they went for Maharishi, not for the ashram. Maharishi didn’t allow men to stay with their wives. John was delighted with the idea. He loved it, actually. I think it made Cynthia very unhappy. She wanted to stay with John, everybody had his own problems. My great interest was with John. I was very happy because I found John much healthier. The color in his face was different and he was happier and he took the whole thing very seriously, and he was trying hard and he was so excited when I arrived because perhaps I was part of the reason he was there.

Magic Alex in All You Need Is Love – Peter Brown & Steven Gaines

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

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

By spending two months in deep meditation in India, John brought his deepest problems to the surface but he was unable to resolve them: the contradiction between his family life and his life as a rock star with all the drugs and groupies was too great. Had he stayed with the Maharishi until the end of the course, he might have avoided some of the pain, but by terminating the instruction abruptly, he was left hanging in thin air. During the weeks at the camp, he had been receiving daily letters from Yoko, though nothing sexual had yet happened between them. He was very attracted by her but he felt tremendous guilt about breaking up his marriage: doing to Julian what his own parents had done to him, repeating the pattern.

Many Years From Now - Barry Miles

He [Mick Jagger] told me with amusement that the real reason why the Beatles left the Maharishi was that he made a pass at one of them: “They’re simple north-country lads; they’re terribly uptight about all that.” Am still not sure if I believe this story.

“The Sixties,” the second volume of Christopher Isherwood’s diaries

After

And I was slowly putting myself together after Maharishi, bit by bit over a two year period. I destroyed me ego and I didn’t believe I could do anything. I let Paul do what he want and say, them all of them do what they want, I was just nothing, I was shit. And then Derek tripped me out at his house after he got back from LA, and he sort of said you’re all right and pointed out which songs I’d written, and ‘you wrote this and you said this, you are intelligent, don’t be frightened’. And then next week I went down with Yoko and tripped out again and she filled me completely to realize I was me and it was alright.

Lennon Remembers

So much had changed since I’d last seen the Beatles just a few months previously. They had come back from their trip to India completely different people. They had once been fastidious and fashionable; now they were scruffy and unkempt. They had once been witty and full of humor; now they were solemn and prickly. They had once been bonded together as lifelong friends; now they resented one another’s company. They had once been lighthearted and fun to be around. Now they were angry.

Here, There and Everywhere - Geoff Emerick, Howard Massey

The rage that was bubbling inside John was the most obvious sign that something was seriously wrong. There was new tension between John and Paul, and even between John and Ringo, in addition to the often strained relationship that Paul had with George and the resentment that Ringo sometimes exhibited when Paul coached him too much on drum parts. In fact, the only two Beatles who seemed to get along during the White Album sessions were John and George. Perhaps that came from the experience they had shared at the ashram—after all, they were the two who had stuck it out, staying on long after Ringo and Paul had gone back home. Maybe they felt deserted by their bandmates, or betrayed. The undercurrents between the four Beatles were so complex at that point, it gave me a headache just thinking about it.

Here, There and Everywhere - Geoff Emerick, Howard Massey

Our first night back in the studio began, as usual, with small talk and catching up. “So how was India?” I asked. “India was okay, I guess… apart from that nasty little Maharishi,” John replied, venomously. Harrison looked deflated, as if it were a conversation they’d had many times before. With a deep sigh, he tried to calm his agitated bandmate. “Oh come on, he wasn’t that bad,” he interjected, earning a withering glance. Lennon’s bitterness and anger seemed almost palpable. Ringo tried deflecting things with a little humor. “It reminded me of a Butlins holiday camp, only the bloody food wasn’t as good,” he said with a wink. I glanced in Paul’s direction. He was staring straight ahead, expressionless and weary. He didn’t have much to say about India that day, or any other. I sensed at that moment that something fundamental in them had changed. They were searching for something, but they didn’t know quite what it was; they had journeyed to India looking for answers, and they were disappointed that they hadn’t found them there… but it seemed to me that they didn’t even know the questions.

Here, There and Everywhere - Geoff Emerick, Howard Massey

“By all accounts, John had hit an all-time low [after India]. “John was in a rage because God had forsaken him,” George recalled. “Then he went and completely reversed himself. He turned from being positive to being totally negative.” According to Pete Shotton, who was spending time with John at Weybridge, there was an overriding feeling of humiliation—from the Maharishi, from the Apple Boutique shambles, from his deteriorating marriage, from what he felt was his shrinking position in the Beatles. “He was more fucked up than I’d even seen him,” Shotton remembers. “It seemed like everything was going to the dogs. He’d been desperately grasping [at] straws, as far as I was concerned, and there wasn’t even a straw there.”

the beatles: the biography, bob spitz

JOHN: How can two women split up four strong men? It’s impossible. You know, The Beatles were disintegrating slowly after Brian Epstein died, it was a slow death, and it was happening. It was evident in Let It Be – uh, although Linda and Yoko were evident then, but they weren’t when it started, I don’t think. It was evident in – in India, when George and I stayed there and Paul and Ringo left.

October, 1971 (St Regis Hotel, New York)

There was little need for me to repeat my instructions. As soon as we got there, it was obvious that things were not hunky-dory with the Beatles. Their recent month-long meditation retreat with the Maharishi didn’t seem to have helped their relationships very much, and the estrangement was definitely having an effect on their work. I don’t think any actual recording got done that night. Paul, George and Ringo were rehearsing some new songs, trying different ways of playing and singing them. Meanwhile, John spent most of his time sitting on the floor next to Yoko, chatting privately with her as she stroked his hair. He seemed no more involved in the proceedings than me and Lawrence, who watched the uncomfortable tension building from the other side of the studio. “Hey John.” Paul turned around to face him at one point. “Are you in this band or what?”

Leslie Cavendish, The Cutting Edge: The Story of the Beatles’ Hairdresser Who Defined an Era

Back at Kenwood John continued to be distant towards me. Now that we were away from the others and the charms of India, I felt increasingly afraid and depressed. John and I were back in the same bed, but the warmth and passion we had shared for so long were absent. John seemed barely to notice me. He was little better with Julian and was more likely to snap at him than give him a hug. There was just one moment of real warmth between us and that was, ironically, when John confessed to me that he had been unfaithful. We were in the kitchen when he said, out of the blue, 'There have been other women, you know, Cyn.'

John (Cynthia Lennon)

On the flight back from India, he had gotten very drunk and, for some reason, decided to confess all his affairs to Cynthia. Brutally, he ticked off a very long list, which included groupies, models, prostitutes, the wives and girlfriends of his and Cynthia’s friends and, possibly cruelest of all, Cynthia’s own girlfriends. Cynthia felt totally betrayed.

Magical Mystery Tours My Life with The Beatles by Tony Bramwell

The shattering of his faith in the Maharishi, meanwhile, had left John spiritually adrift once more; his instinctive response was to return with a vengeance to his former drug habits. (Like the other Beatles, John had totally abstained from alcohol and drugs while in India.) In retrospect, it's easy to see how wide open John was, at this particular juncture, to anything—or anybody—that might conceivably lift him out of his rut.

The Beatles, Lennon, and me - Pete Shotton

PAUL: I gave myself a set period, and then if it was gonna be something we really had to go back for, I was thinking of going back. But at the end of my month I was quite happy and I thought… this’ll do me. This is fine. If I want to get into it heavy, I can do it anywhere. That’s one of the nice things about it, you don’t have to go to church to do it, you can do it in your own room. So I was quite happy.

RINGO: I left just a little disillusioned, and John was a little disillusioned when he came back, and Paul was. [pause] George just loved it.

1993 rough cut of the Anthology series

Although Paul was the first to leave [India] disillusioned, John left in the mind of, ‘OK, well, we tried, we surrendered to God but it wasn’t God, it was Maharishi and this God thing is proving itself to be a total fallacy’ - and then went back to being The Beatles.

I left Rishikesh with John. Alex [Madras] had been the naughty boy who’d stirred everything up. John went in a rage because God had forsaken him (although it was nothing to do with God, really). Then he went and completely reversed himself. He turned from being positive to being totally negative.

I went to South India […] and everything that happened to me went wrong to the point that I felt, like John and Alex, that the Maharishi had put the heeby-jeebies in me.

George Harrison, c/o Derek Taylor, Fifty Years Adrift. (1984)

JOHN: I’ve got no regrets at all, ‘cause it was a groove and I had some great experiences meditating eight hours a day—some amazing things, some amazing trips— it was great. And I still meditate off and on. George is doing it regularly. And I believe implicitly in the whole bit. It’s just that it’s difficult to continue it. I lost the rosy glasses. And I’m like that. I’m very idealistic. So I can’t really manage my exercises when I’ve lost that. I mean, I don’t want to be a boxer so much. It’s just that a few things happened, or didn’t happen. I don’t know, but something happened. It was sort of like a click and we just left and I don’t know what went on. It’s too near—I don’t really know what happened.

John Lennon, interview w/ Jonathan Cott for Rolling Stone: The first Rolling Stone interview. (November 23rd, 1968)

Cynthia Lennon “John had taken acid once more and enthused, ‘Cyn, it was great. Christ Cyn, we’ve got to have lots more children. We’ve got to have a big family around us.’ At this point, I burst into tears … All I could blurt out was that, in no way, could I see us as he did. I was so disturbed by John’s outburst, that I even suggested that Yoko Ono was the woman for him. John protested at my crazy suggestion and suggested that I was being ridiculous. Although life went on as usual, my fears grew and I felt nervous and depressed. John was aware of my depression and suggested that, as he had to work for long hours in the recording studios for a few weeks, I should accompany Jenny, Donovan, Gyspy and Alexis on a holiday to Greece. The very thought of sun and sea really brightened my outlook.”

The Beatles Off the Record (Keith Badman)

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

In My Life, Pete Shotton

The resentment might have been coming from a different place. With his marital problems still unsettled and Cynthia gallivanting around Greece, drugs continued to govern John’s fitful moods. He dosed himself continuously with LSD, tweaking its random effect with any spare pills he happened to find lying around the house. In the right company, it plunged John into a deep, unfathomable trance that altered between indecipherable rambling and deadpan silences. At Weybridge, into which Pete Shotton had moved in order to keep his friend company, he stayed up nights, tripping and battling wave after wave of incendiary rage. One night, after the usual snack of hallucinogens, Shotton says he noticed John moving his arms around very slowly in a circle. “I said, ‘What are you doing?’ ” recalls Pete, “but John couldn’t explain it. He said, ‘I can’t stop. There’s something making me do this. I can’t help myself.’ ” Tears followed, uncontrollable rivers of tears, intermingled with hideous laughter. When Shotton tried to comfort him, John resisted. “I’m not crying,” he insisted peevishly, wiping his eyes with the back of a hand. Suddenly John declared that he was Jesus Christ, back from the grave. “He was convinced of it,” Pete recalls, “saying… ‘This is it, at last—I know who I am.’ ” The next day the Messiah convened an emergency meeting at Apple to announce his identity to the other Beatles. Unimpressed, they said: “Yeah, all right then. What shall we do now?” After someone suggested lunch, the matter was dropped.

That night at Weybridge, in the middle of another drug-induced reverie, the TV flickered off, whereupon John, already chastened and in a self-abasing mood, asked Pete if it was okay if he invited a woman to the house. Shotton, who had no intention of staying up another night with his friend, was relieved. “Well, I think I’ll call up Yoko,” John said.

The Beatles – Bob Spitz

What happened that night can only be left to the imagination, but since it patently wasn’t the coming together of two virgins for the very first time, did Yoko do her hypnotism thing, as some of John’s friends thought she had, or did she have a powerful new drug in her arsenal? Nobody really believed that John fell in love overnight, because why hadn’t he done so before? He’d been kicking Yoko in and out of his life for over a year. Mostly, he had given the impression that he resented and despised her. So it must have been something pretty potent that made John fall headlong out of his casual affair with her into a mad obsession. Perhaps it was that he really was mentally ill and like many schizoid personalities, got religious mania. If he really did believe that he was Jesus, Yoko would probably have convinced him she was the Virgin Mary. A virgin at any rate. John was shortly to tell the world that they spent the night at the top of the house in his bloodred music room, recording the Two Virgins tape. They say that a moose in heat can waken the dead and achieve the impossible with his bellows. John and Yoko spent the night screaming.

Magical Mystery Tours My Life with The Beatles by Tony Bramwell

Whatever her reasoning, Cynthia remained determined to see the marriage through [after finding John and Yoko together]. Convinced that John still needed her, she returned to Kenwood, mollified by his apparent denial that anything improper had occurred. “For a while, everything was wonderful,” she recalled. “We could speak more openly and honestly with each other, and there really was a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel.”

But the tunnel was short, and the light soon faded. Within weeks their life together had disintegrated into a revolving state of solicitude and withdrawal, resignation and despondence. Following a stretch when John became disturbingly incommunicative, Cynthia packed once again, escaping on still another vacation to Pesaro, Italy, with her mother, Julian, and a favorite aunt and uncle.

The Beatles – Bob Spitz

No sooner were they back from India, than Jane returned to her work at the Bristol Old Vic, and Paul launched into what was probably the most relaxed time of his life. He opened wide the doors of Cavendish Avenue and the groupies, who had camped as faithfully outside as they had in Wimpole Street during the years that Paul had lived there with the Asher family, were astonished to find they were now invited in. Not only were they invited into the house, but also into Paul’s bed. Whenever I went up to see Paul, the house was filled with giggling, half-naked girls, cooking meals, walking Martha, or glued to the phone for hours on end, calling the world.

Magical Mystery Tours My Life with The Beatles by Tony Bramwell

It came as a welcome relief that John and Paul, along with Neil Aspinall, planned a quick trip to New York on May 11, where several press events had been scheduled to announce Apple Records in the States. Friends agreed that getting John away might do him a world of good; being alone, with just Paul to steady him, might have a calming influence. But Paul was grappling with his own set of anxieties. “We wanted a grand launch,” Paul said, “but I had a strange feeling and was very nervous.” Drugs, he later admitted, may have been at the root of his problem; there was a lot of dope-smoking before takeoff and even during the transatlantic flight. But Jane Asher also helped spike Paul’s mood. The grudging engagement between Beatle and actress had been ticklish at best. But since traveling together in India and a subsequent ten-day trip to Scotland, Jane’s eccentricities rankled. Paul was having serious second thoughts about the relationship, which had reached a kind of critical, now-or-never stage.

Between John’s attitude and Paul’s paranoia, the Beatles were a PR nightmare. “It was a mad, bad week in New York,” recalled Derek Taylor, who met the two Beatles there to chaperone a round of press conferences, followed by interviews. Taylor had fashioned himself into a debonair drug aficionado since the Beatles first dosed him at Brian Epstein’s housewarming party, and now he and John gorged themselves on speed and a “mild and extremely benign hallucinogen” called Purple Holiday, courtesy of their New York chauffeur. The effect of it came through in the interviews. John was gallingly withdrawn and dismissive, Paul unusually distracted—which made them come off as two rich, snooty rock stars peddling another product.

The Beatles – Bob Spitz

+ a couple of extra things

A quick timeline

December 25 Paul and Jane announced that they were engaged to be married.

February 15 George, Patti, John and Cynthia flew from London Airport to India.

February 19 Paul, Jane, Ringo and Maureen flew from London Airport to India.

March 26 Paul, Jane and Neil Aspinall flew back to England from Rishikesh, leaving George and Patti, John and Cynthia and “Magic” Alex who had come out to join them.

April 12 John and Cynthia, George and Patti and “Magic” Alex left in a hurry from Rishikesh, India, after “Magic” Alex convinced John and George that the Maharishi was using his position to gain sexual favours from at least one of the female meditators.

May 11 John and Paul, accompanied by “Magic” Alex, Neil Aspinall, Mal Evans, Ron Kass and Derek Taylor, flew to New York to launch Apple in the US.

May 15 Accompanied by Linda, Nat Weiss drove John, Paul and “Magic” Alex to the airport for their flight back to London.

May 19 With Cynthia taking a short holiday, John called Yoko Ono and invited her out to Kenwood. They made a random sound tape, which was later issued as Two Virgins with the notorious sleeve showing them both naked.

May 26 Cynthia returned home from a brief holiday in Greece, to discover Yoko Ono in residence with John.

May 31 Abbey Road. The White Album sessions. Work continued on ‘Revolution 1’ and the last six minutes was removed to form the basis of the chaotic ‘Revolution 9’. Yoko screamed on the track, her first appearance on a Beatles recording.

June 4 Paul began seeing Francie Schwartz.

June 22-23 On this day Paul McCartney addressed a sales conference attended by executives from Capitol Records, where he announced that all future Beatles records would be released through the group’s Apple Records label. The day after they fell in love in Los Angeles, Paul McCartney and Linda Eastman spent much of the day together at the Beverly Hills Hotel, where he was staying as part of an Apple promotional trip.

July 20 Jane Asher, appearing on Simon Dee’s BBC Television show Dee Time, said that her engagement to Paul was off – but that it was not she that had broken it. She told Dee that they had been engaged for seven months, after knowing each other for five years. (She had arrived back at Cavendish Avenue one day to find Paul in bed with a girl named Francie Schwartz.)

The Beatles Diary Volume 1 The Beatles Years (Barry Miles) & https://www.beatlesbible.com/

A comment from Heydullblog, which I find interesting and think sums up how insufficient & unsatisfying most explanations are for how John changed during this period:

Michael Gerber November 25, 2021 at 4:31 pm

What, in all that, makes you HATE Cyn, and divorce her in the most abrupt and vicious way, even attempting to get her to commit adultery so you can give her (and your own son) as little as possible? Why not a quick and amiable divorce from a woman who, let’s be honest, knew she was getting cheated on pretty constantly since 1961.

What, in all that, makes you HATE Paul McCartney, who has been your closest professional collaborator since 1957, and engage in a five-year campaign to smear and demean him in the press? Why do you insist your millions of fans choose you or him? Why not simply pause the group, and everybody goes solo and remains friends, as was predicted at the end of touring?

What makes you DETERMINED to bust up your rock group, the most popular group in the world, the source of all your fame, money, and power?

What makes you pick Yoko Ono IN PARTICULAR out of all the groupies, hangers-on, and even sensible appropriate partners within your current circle? Eighteen months ago you were attracted to Maureen Cleave, Sonny Freeman, Alma Cogan, etc — pretty much the type of women you always picked — but now, you pick a conceptual artist offering total submersion into someone else’s ego?

And what makes you spend the rest of your life pretending all this was the greatest thing ever, the fullest flowering of your genius?

It’s not that John Lennon looked around at his life in early 1968 and thought, “I don’t want this anymore. This isn’t for me.” It’s that he lashed out incredibly fiercely, in every direction, made no distinction between friend and foe, demonstrated a huge amount of resentment and bitterness towards the very people who it would seem had helped him the most, and spent literally the rest of his short life at least arguably LESS happy than he’d been before. He didn’t dump his wife for the nanny and live happily ever after; he started a process of picking things up and throwing them away with great force that, if he’d been that way in 1957, would’ve kept any of his genius from ever emerging.

He changed, fundamentally, in a short time. Why?

Midlife crises happen, they are to be expected, but this one gets more singular the more you look at it. And the thing about post-India Lennon is how he’s no more happy, no more productive, no more self-aware, no more comfortable in his own skin, than pre-India Lennon. What does the guy in August 1980 have to be angry about? Really? It was only after I reached middle-age and went through my own version of crisis (crises) that I thought, “How strange.”

[xyziiix]

𝘛𝘏𝘙𝘌𝘌 𝘐𝘚 𝘈 𝘊𝘙𝘖𝘞𝘋 ~ 𝘑.𝘗 & 𝘚.𝘙

PAIRINGS: Captain John Price X Female!Reader X Lieutenant Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

WARNINGS: SMUT - this is pure porn u guys - MMF threesome, unprotected P in V (wrap it please for the love of god) spanking, ROUGH GHOST, Price being an arsehole, being fucked over a desk, Eiffel Tower 😏, oral (m!receiving), creampie, kinda degrading.

A/N: I heard your pleas you little horndogs. You ask and you shall receive. (Sorry it’s a lil rushed and — surprise surprise, not proof read yet)

[could be read as a part 2 to ARDOUR, could also be read by itself)

It was Price that had noticed it first.

Of course he had. He was regardful. Observant.

He noticed it first a few days after you’d returned to base from Urizakstan. The way the Lieutenant’s eyes would linger on you when you were talking or just suddenly appeared — breathing life into the room, as you usually did. And it wasn’t just in a way one would be respectably paying attention to someone whilst they were speaking or doing something to gather their attention — No. it was the way his eyes — ones that always seemed devoid of emotion — would follow your body when you moved around, would watch you like a predator stalking it’s prey. Price recognised the look in his eyes.

Because that’s how he also looked at you.

While the situation you and Price were in was… delicate — and would definitely rouse misplaced reactions by the people in your place of work — he thought the idea of another man looking at you the way Ghost did would’ve angered him. Made him jealous. Irrational.

But for some reason it didn’t irk him as he thought it would.

And it wasn’t long after that he figured out Simon knew about you two. Perhaps the way Ghost seemed to be more observant and more silent than usual when the two of you were normally interacting with each other in front of the task force — keeping it strictly professional while you weren’t in the privacy with only each other. So that’s how Price figured he knew. Why would he be acting odd — even more than usual — about the two of you simply talking in the same room as everyone? It was like he knew a secret, a dirty secret.

Turns out he did.

In that battered down, sad excuse of a safe house in the Urzikstan dessert, it turns out not everyone was asleep that night while your Captain decided to fuck you.

You two had hidden it well — he’d give you both credit for that — so it was safe to say it had genuinely surprised him when he saw the sight in front of him that night. He was careful. Quiet. Like a ghost. Sticking to the shadows and moving silently — which was very surprising considering the Lieutenant’s looming height.

He had heard the noises — your noises — and it was obvious they were trying to be muffled. At first, he’d immediately thought of danger, that’s why he had been cautious to approach instead of just bursting into the room.

He remembers the feeling of his chest tightening in realisation when he saw what he saw. Price’s back was to Ghost — laying on his side on the ground. He couldn’t get a good look at your face, but he could see the glow of perspiration from the moonlight shining through the thin glass pane window and onto the dewy skin of your bare leg draped over Price’s thigh. Even just the silver of soft skin and the sound of your singing being trapped into the Captain’s palm had Simon hard, his pants tightening in his groin area — other than that he remained completely silent, even his breathing seemed nonexistent as he just watched the two of you. He didn’t even touch himself either, just watched. Like he thought if he looked away for a moment then the image of you like this would be gone.

But now it had been burned into his memory. The sounds you made. The soft and supple flesh of your thigh. And even the way your dainty hand had grabbed onto Price’s arm when he made you come. He wondered if you’d make those noises for him — except he wouldn’t muffle them with his palm. No. He’d want you to let everything out, every scream, every cry, every wanton moan while he fucked you dumb with his cock.

Price had brought up his observation of the Lieutenant one night a few weeks later. Both of you basking in the afterglow of sex in your rooms in the barracks.

“Simon.” He started simply, and you had turned to look at him quizzically.

“What about him?”

“Think he knows.”

Somewhere between then and now, you had discussed the possibility of this. To say you were very surprised when Price was the one that suggested Simon fucking you was an understatement. It wasn’t that Price wanted to be sexual with Ghost — as sexy as that would’ve been to see — he liked the idea of watching him fuck you. He couldn’t explain why, but just something that had been brewing in the back of his mind.

You had told Price that he wouldn’t have wanted that — that he was a closed off person who was hard to read, how could John have possibly conjured up that assumption that Simon was attracted to you?

Well, your captain always liked proving you wrong.

Because here you were, bent over the expanse of John’s desk — the desk you’d already had the pleasant experience of being bent over, laid atop of, and sat underneath while you sucked his cock as he sat in the desk chair — only this time it was infact, Lieutenant Simon Riley plowing into you with his intimidatingly large cock.

His grip on your hips was borderline painful — but it hurt so good. You worried he may make the desk topple over with how hard he was thrusting into you. You’d never been this stretched open before — feeling the too much, too full feeling of his dick inside of you, the blunt head of his length kissing the plug of your cervix with each steady but strong buck of his hips.

The masked man’s gaze was set of the globes of your arse, how the flesh rippled when his hips met yours, how every time it did so he got a glimpse of your little puckered hole — fuck, he wanted to fuck you there as well. But, he didn’t want to push his luck just yet. The only noises to be heard in Price’s office was skin meeting skin, the sound of your small cries and whimpers of ecstasy. You tried to stay quiet, you really did, but it was rather pathetic — your moans eventually interjecting through the room.

That’s when Price had changed his mind about just watching you. He had been painfully hard the last 15 minutes from having watched you already come on Ghost’s cock, your eyes glassy and lips red raw from biting them as you gripped onto the table for dear life. You didn’t even register him standing in front of you until you heard the sound of metal teeth being zipped open as well as the buckle of his belt.

“Gotta keep you quiet, love.” He excused with a chuckle while sliding his cock between your lips.

You really did have to keep quiet. And though the door was locked anyone walking by would’ve heard you — being fucked by your lieutenant while your captain watched.

You tried to focus on hollowing your cheeks around John’s cock. But you were utterly cock drunk, already feeling another powerful orgasm building in the pit of you abdomen while Simon continued to fuck you. Price had obviously noticed you struggling — as the bastard seemed to notice everything, he’d smugly remind you — so he had gathered your hair, using it to lift your head up as he started to fervently fuck your throat.

If you thought you felt impossibly full then you were beyond stuffed now, your jaw slack as John fucked your face and your pussy stretched almost painfully wide around Simon’s cock.

Ghost let out a prolonged, raspy breath when he felt you squeezing his dick in a vice. And in return, one of his hands left your hips in order to collect both your wrists with his single, calloused palm, pining them to your lower back as he fucked you impossibly harder, his pace quickening a little. His other palm landing a smack to your sore asscheeks — a crack of palm meeting flesh sounding in the office.

“Look at you, eh?” Price spoke, his tone annoyingly steady despite your mouth gliding up and down his cock. “Being fucked by your superiors. What would everyone make of you?” He asked with a gruff chuckle — and obviously you couldn’t answer.

About several moments later you felt yourself tumbling into another fierce climax, all but crying around John’s cock as your abused cunt squeezed Simon pitifully — which rewarded you with another slap to your rear, the skin red raw.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Simon grunted lowly — that adding to the short list of words he’d actually spoken this whole time.

Your arse hurt, your wrists hurt, your jaw hurt — your fucking pussy hurt — but you didn’t want it to stop, ever.

John pulled his cock out of your mouth, his dick coated in a mix of saliva and precum. His hand still buried in your hair — keeping your head up. Your neck hurt as well.

“Such a good girl.” Price praised as he bent his knees a little to see your face better, a smug smile curling his lips at the tears staining your flushed cheeks. “He makin’ you feel good?” He asks, there’s an edge to his voice.

The Lieutenant — being so full of surprises tonight — pushes his hand under you. The rough pad of his thumb cruelly flicking your clit. Your body seizing forward, a sharp cry escaping your lips while Simon still held your wrists pinned behind you.

When your eyes had widened at the overstimulating sensation, John had mirror your expression — but mockingly. “You like being used like this don’t you?”

You could only moan in response — unable to form a coherent thought let alone sentence.

Price tapped your cheek, your eyes focusing back on his smug face. “Asked you a question, love.” He reminded you. Arsehole.

“Yeah-“ you managed to babble out, your words shaking in tandem with your body, John’s smile curled into a Cheshire Cat grin — his goatee lifting.

“Yeah, you do.” He repeated.

Neither men had lasted much long after that. Price had gone back to fucking your face while Simon was relentlessly pounding into you. Your third orgasm was — quite literally — breath taking, it felt like your skin was on fire, yet numb at the same time. You definitely couldn’t feel your legs. Ghost came first, burying himself all the way to the hilt before spilling hot ropes of come inside of you with a groan — so much that it leaked out of you in a dribble of pearly white, you had let out a pathetic whine when he pulled out — the empty feeling had you quivering around nothing.

Price came a few moments later, filling your mouth with his salty spend before you swallowed it all. It tickled your raw throat.

Ghost had left soon after, not that he was ignorant in checking up on you, but because he knew that wasn’t his place to do so — not yet anyway. He had helped you up from the desk though, soothing his hands up and down your waist before Price took over. He had shared a look with you — his eyes saying everything his mouth wouldn’t.

@tapioca-marzipan @kanyewestburnbook @darksxder @louve-barnes @emodanoriddler @imonmykneessir @nightingal3-tales @ghost-2513 @fruitymoonbeams-blog

I tagged the ppl who commented on ARDOUR, if your name isn’t in grey then it wouldn’t let me tag you x

Call Of Duty MW2 Masterlist

[acryingpisces]

ARMS OF COMFORT

PAIRING: john b x gf!reader

WARNINGS: anxiety attack, cursing, making out, mostly fluff

»»———–➤

You hated this feeling. When the anxious thoughts kick in and the room starts to spin. You’d do anything to silence the negative voices in your head. You want nothing more than to keep your head above water and prevent yourself from going to that all too familiar, dark place in the corner of your mind.

John B had never seen you like this. In the 4 months you’d been dating you had managed to keep up the ‘miss perfect’ act. As far as he was concerned, you were his dream girlfriend. He had no clue what a mess you could be. Were you willing to drop the mask? To show him another side of you?

It seemed too vulnerable to let John B know what you were going through. You rolled over in bed, facing away from him, using a pillow to muffle your cries. You silently sobbed into it while your unaware boyfriend snored softly next to you.

After a good 3 minutes of crying, the sound of a whisper made you freeze in place and immediately stop your tears.

“Baby?”

Fuck. You were caught. He had heard you. Your heart began to race at the thought of turning to face John B with a tear soaked face. How would you explain it?

“Are y- are you crying? Y/n, look at me.”

Fear had turned you to stone, and you found it impossible to move despite your boyfriend’s request.

John B placed a gentle hand on your back, nudging you to turn around. Somehow you worked up the courage to actually face him. You rolled over. Immediately you noticed an expression of intense worry on his face as he took notice of your red and puffy eyes.

“No, no, no- baby come here. What happened? Hey, you’re alright okay? I’ve got you.”

He wrapped you in his strong arms and laid your head on his bare chest. You could hear the beat of his heart. His woodsy masculine scent, the warmth of his body heat, and his sweet words provided you with a sense of calm. As he rocked you back and forth you felt your anxiety slowly wash away.

“Deep breaths y/n. Breathe in and out with me. Can you do that?”

You matched the pace of his breathing.

“Good job, you’re doing so good for me y/n.”

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” you managed to choke out through your tears.

“Shhh don’t say that,” he shushed you. “Don’t ever be afraid or feel like you have to hide from me. I’m here for you,” John B cooed.

He could tell you weren’t in the right state of mind to do much talking. “You don’t have to say anything. We can talk about what’s going on later. For now just let me hold you.”

You couldn’t help yourself. Overwhelmed with emotion and adoration for your boyfriend you found yourself pressing your lips to his. It turned from a soft kiss to a passionate one pretty quickly. Your hands gripped his hair as he began sucking on your bottom lip. Your tongues danced together as you softly moaned into his mouth. When you finally pulled away to catch your breath you found yourself staring deep into his eyes. You had never told him you loved him before, but now felt like the right moment.

“I love you, John B.”

“I love you more, y/n. God, I love you so much. Everything’s going to be okay.”

He had seen you at your worst and he still loved you. There was no more reason to be afraid. You finally felt as though you could relax. He later went to the kitchen to bring you your favorite snacks and you spent the rest of the night holding each other close as possible, watching movies on the television. You fell asleep to the sound of the TV and the rise and fall of your boyfriend’s chest as he breathed.

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Everbody Loves a Clown | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual ? )

Word Count: 5956

Warnings: Canon violence, canon gore, coping with parental death, clowns lol

A/N: Special treat since the first episode was kinda short! Happy reading, everyone!

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

The only light in the middle of the clearing in the woods came from John’s wrapped, burning body. You stood wordlessly between Dean and Sam, watching as the pyre burned to ash. Dean stared silently while his brother fought tears.

It felt so odd to have spent so much time looking for John— a man you'd only met in passing during a hunt a little over a year ago— to now be standing in front of his burning corpse. It almost felt anticlimactic if you detached emotion completely from your situation.

On the very real and guttural side of things, though, you knew that having spent so little time with John after looking for him for almost a year was going to take a horrible toll on his boys, especially your Dean.

Sam spoke for the first time in hours. “Before he.. before... did he say anything to you? About anything?”

Dean refused to look at you or his brother, but said, “No. Nothing.”

An obvious lie.

***

Over a week after John’s funeral, you were watching Dean work on his car at Bobby’s. Bobby had been nice enough to let the three of you stay with him while Dean got the Impala back in working order.

Selfishly, every time you looked at Dean, you wanted to come right out with your feelings. Although, he was grieving, and you did not want to take advantage of his vulnerability. You wouldn't want your relationship to be born out of such a terrible tragedy.

However, you would continue to be there for him however he needed, even if that meant sitting next to him in the hot sun silently for hours and handing him a wrench every once in a while. You knew better than to ask if he was okay. You’d lost your father, too and knew he wouldn’t be okay for quite some time.

At first, he’d barely tolerated you sitting next to him. He fought you on everything you tried to do for him, but you got him to shut up after a few days. You knew he knew what you were playing at, and you could tell he appreciated it nonetheless.

Sam, on the other hand, wasn’t nearly as well-fortified against his emotions. You could hear him crying in the next room almost nightly, and it broke your heart. But you would rather Sam cry than build himself up against negative feelings the way his brother did. He was more into the touchy-feely-hug-it-out therapy style, and you were more than happy to give that to him. These boys needed you to be strong for them, and you would happily do so for as long as they needed. 

“How's the car coming along?” Sam asked, approaching you and Dean, who was under his car. You sat next to where his boots stuck out with a tool box in your lap.

“Slow,” Dean responded.

“Yeah? Need any help?”

“What, you under a hood? I'll pass.”

“Need anything else, then?”

Dean rolled himself out from under the car and stood up above you. You looked between Dean’s face, set in hard lines, and his brother’s puppy-dog stare. “Stop it, Sam.”

“Stop what?” the younger brother asked innocently.

“Stop asking if I need anything, stop asking if I'm okay. I'm okay. Really. I promise,” Dean scoffed.

“Alright, Dean, it's just—” Sam took a deep breath. “We've been at Bobby's for over a week now, and you haven't brought up Dad once.”

“You know what? You're right. Come here. I'm gonna lay my head gently on your shoulder. Maybe we can cry, hug, and maybe even slow dance.” You knew the bite in Dean’s voice was all a mask.

“Don't patronize me, Dean,” Sam returned. “Dad is dead. The Colt is gone, and it seems pretty damn likely that the demon is behind all of this, and you're acting like nothing happened.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Say something, all right? Hell, say anything! Aren't you angry? Don't you want revenge? But all you do is sit out here all day long buried underneath this damn car.”

“Sam, let it go—” you tried, but Dean continued to talk over you.

“Revenge, huh?” Dean chuckled humorlessly. “Sounds good. You got any leads on where the demon is? Making heads or tails of any of Dad's research? Because I sure ain't. But you know, if we do finally find it— oh. No, wait, like you said. The Colt's gone. But I'm sure you've figured out another way to kill it. We've got nothing, Sam. Nothing, okay? So you know the only thing I can do? Is I can work on the car.” He got back down under it.  

“Well, we've got something, alright?” Sam crouched down next to you and handed you a cell phone. “It’s what I came out here to tell you. This is one of dad's old phones. Took me a while, but I cracked his voicemail code. Listen to this.”

Dean pushed himself out from under the car again and sat up next to you as you played the voicemail. “John, it's Ellen. Again. Look, don't be stubborn, you know I can help you. Call me.”

“That message is four months old,” Sam explained.

“Dad saved that chick's message for four months?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

Sam nodded.

“Who’s Ellen?” you asked. “Any mention of her in your dad’s journal?”

“No. But I ran a trace on her phone number, and I got an address.”

***

You and the boys ended up taking one of Bobby’s beat-up minivans to the Roadhouse Saloon; the address Ellen’s voicemail led to. 

“This is humiliating. I feel like a fuckin’ soccer mom!” Dean groaned as he parked the car.

“It’s the only one Bobby had running, dude,” you reminded him. You followed the boys into the purposefully dilapidated-looking building.  

“Hello? Anybody here?” Dean asked loudly. No response ever came. All you could hear was a fly buzzing and a light popping. You caught sight of a man passed out on the pool table facing away from you. 

“Hey, buddy?” Sam said. He turned back to you and Dean. “I'm guessing that isn't Ellen.” He headed into a back room to look around. You walked a little ahead of Dean, only turning around when you heard him say. “Oh god, please let that be a rifle.”

You whipped out your gun and turned to see a pretty petite blonde holding a cocked rifle to Dean’s back. “No, I'm just real happy to see you. Don't move.”

“Hey!” you said. She looked to you, but didn’t move her gun from Dean’s back. “You shoot him, and you’re dead,” you told her.

“Well, he moves, and he’s dead,” she replied.

“Ladies, Ladies, please,” Dean smirked. “You know, you should know something, miss. When you put a rifle on someone, you don't want to put it right against their back. Because it makes it real easy to do…” He turned around fluidly and grabbed the rifle. “That.”

The blonde punched him square in the nose and took back the rifle. You cocked your pistol, catching her attention. 

“Sam! A little help, please!” Dean said. 

“Sorry, Dean, I can't right now. I'm a... little tied up.” Sam walked out with his hands on his head and a shotgun pointed at the back of him. An older woman walked out holding it. “Sam? Dean? Winchester?” she said.

“Yeah…?” Dean said.

“Son of a bitch,” the woman muttered.

The blonde spoke up next. “Mom, you know these guys?”

“Yeah, I think these are John Winchester's boys,” she answered, lowering the gun and laughing. “Hey, I'm Ellen. This is my daughter Jo.”

Jo lowered her rifle as well. “Hey,” she smiled.

“Oh, we’re just supposed to be cool now?” you remarked, still pointing your gun at the blonde.

“(Y/N), cool it,” Dean warned. You did as told and slowly lowered your gun, still stand-offish. 

“You're not gonna hit me again, are you?” Dean asked Jo. 

Ellen handed him a small towel filled with ice. 

“Thanks. You called our dad, said you could help. Help with what?” he asked as he took it from her.

“Well, the demon, of course,” she stated as if it was obvious. “I heard he was closing in on it.”

“What, was there an article in the Demon Hunters Quarterly that I missed?” Dean snarked. “I mean, who- who are you? How do you know about all this?”

The brunette scoffed. “Hey, I just run a saloon. But hunters have been known to pass through now and again. Including your dad a long time ago. John was like family once.”

“Oh yeah? How come he never mentioned you before?”

She looked down and softened her voice. “You'd have to ask him that.”

“So why exactly do we need your help?” Dean questioned.

Now you wanted Dean to cool it. “Relax, man,” you warned.

“Hey, don't do me any favors. Look, if you don't want my help, fine. Don't let the door smack your ass on the way out. But John wouldn't have sent you if—” Ellen stopped suddenly. “He didn't send you.” She looked frantically between Dean and Sam. “He's all right, isn't he?”

Dean refused to look at her, but Sam answered instead. “No. No, he isn't. It was the demon, we think. It, um, it just got him before he got it, I guess.”

Ellen looked sad. “I’m so sorry.”

“It's okay. We're all right,” Dean replied.

“Really? I know how close you and your dad were.”

“Really, lady, I'm fine,” he growled.

“Dean, relax,” you urged him quietly.

Sam continued the conversation with Ellen. “So look, if you can help, we could use all the help we can get.”

“Well, we can't. But Ash will,” she smirked.

“Who's Ash?” you asked.

“Ash!” she called.

You turned to the man on the pool table as he jerked up and flailed up. “What? It closin' time?”

Sam snorted. “That’s Ash?”

Jo hummed. “Mm-hmm. He's a genius.”

You looked at her, skeptical. 

“Sit, please,” Ellen said, and she and her daughter moved around the bar opposite you while you slapped a folder down in front of Ash. He sat across the bar from you.

“You've gotta be kidding me, this guy's no genius. He's a Lynyrd Skynyrd roadie,” Dean remarked.

Ash grinned drunkenly. “I like you.”

“Thanks,” the older brother smiled, seeming slightly confused by the drunk.

“Just give him a chance,” Jo urged.

You opened the folder and pushed it toward Ash. “That’s about a year’s worth of John’s work. See if you can make heads or tails of it.”

Ash shook his head as he looked through the papers. “Come on. This crap ain't real. There ain't nobody can track a demon like this.”

“Our dad could,” said Sam.

“There are non-parametrics, statistical overviews, prospects and correlations, I mean, damn!” Ash’s cadence made you giggle. “They're signs. Omens. Uh, if you can track 'em, you can track this demon. You know, like crop failures, electrical storms— You ever been struck by lightning? It ain't fun.”

“Can you track it or not?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, with this, I think so. But it's gonna take time, uh, give me—” he thought for a moment— “fifty-one hours.” He got up to leave, but Dean stopped him. 

“I, uh, I dig the haircut.”

He waved his hair around dramatically. “All business up front, party in the back.”

Jo walked around Dean, flirting a little. You could’ve killed her. 

He offered Jo a polite smile, but you apparently were not doing a good job of hiding your jealousy.

“Easy, tiger,” Dean chuckled, shooting you a smirk. 

You could practically feel Jo checking Dean out. 

“She’s looking at you like a hunk of meat,” you replied, talking through your teeth. 

“What, you mean, like you do?” he replied, smirking.

“I do not!” You paused at his deadpan look. “I mean, sometimes, maybe, quite possibly, but not right now.”

He nodded. “And you know, I, uh, I appreciate that.”

“Do you really? Sounded like you had a gun to your head when you said that,” you giggled.

He looked back at you sincerely. “You know I do.”

"I do just have... one question, though," you said, unable to stop the words coming out of your mouth due to the sudden, subtle flirting coming from Dean.

He nodded for you to continue.

"I'm assuming you pieced together what I was gonna tell you back at the hospital," you trailed off.

Dean nodded again, the ends of his lips tugging upward.

"You're not... freaked out?"

He shook his head, still smiling. "Opposite of freaked out."

You could feel your cheeks heating, and you looked down at the bar in front of you. Dean's chuckle was music to your ears despite the way it spurred on your embarrassment.

Then, Sam approached you and Dean. “A few murders, not far from here, that Ellen caught wind of. Looks to me like there might be a hunt.”

“Yeah. So?” Dean asked.

“So, I told her we'd check it out.”

***

Dean continued to grumble about the “stupid minivan” the whole way to your next hunt. Sam did research as you scribbled in your journal. Helping the boys was a task you wouldn't give up for anything, but it was beginning to bring up some negative emotions and memories for you. Journaling was helping to calm the storm inside you.

“You've gotta be kidding me. A killer clown?” Dean scoffed.

“Yeah. He left the daughter unharmed and killed the parents. Ripped them to pieces, actually,” Sam responded.

“And this family was at some carnival that night?”

“Right, right. The, uh, Cooper Carnivals.”

“So, how do we know it’s not some psycho in a clown suit?” you piped up.

“Well, the cops have no viable leads, and all the employees were tearing down shop. Alibis all around. Plus this girl said she saw a clown vanish into thin air. Cops are saying trauma, of course,” Sam explained.

“Well, I know what you're thinking, Sam. Why did it have to be clowns?” Dean mocked.

“Oh, give me a break,” the brunet muttered.

You smiled but refused to make fun of him, because “everyone is afraid of something.” 

“You’re scared of clowns?” you asked.

“Yeah, he still busts out crying whenever he sees Ronald McDonald on the television,” Dean told you.

“Well, at least I'm not afraid of flying,” Sam deadpanned.

“Planes crash!”

“And apparently clowns kill!”

"Boys—!"

“Yeah, you’re right,” Dean mumbled. “So these types of murders, they ever happen before?”

“Uh, according to the file, 1981, the Bunker Brothers Circus, same M.O. It happened three times, three different locales,” the younger Winchester explained.

“It’s weird, though, spirits are usually bound to specific locales, y’know,” you said. “So how's this one moving from city to city, carnival to carnival?”

“Cursed object, maybe,” Dean suggested. “Spirit attaches itself to something and the, uh, carnival carries it around with them.”

“Great. Paranormal scavenger hunt.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“Well, blame Sam. It was his idea. By the way, why is that? You were awfully quick to jump on this job.” Dean threw a look to his brother.

“So?”

“It's just… not like you, that's all. I thought you were hell-bent for leather on the demon hunt.”

You eyed Sam strangely, too.

The younger Winchester softened. “I don't know, I just think, this job, it's what Dad would have wanted us to do.”

“What Dad would have wanted?” Dean turned his face to Sam.

“Yeah. So?” Sam challenged.

“Nothin'.”

***

You and the boys decided to join the carnival after the second family had been murdered to get a closer look at the happenings during the carnival. “Friends close, freak-shows closer,” Dean had said.

When you entered yet another tent in search of the show’s organizer. You found a man throwing knives at a target; all landing near but not quite on the bulls-eye. 

“Excuse me, we're looking for a Mr. Cooper; have you seen him around?” the older brother asked.

The man turned around and pulled off his sunglasses. “What is that, some kind of joke?” 

“Oh. God, I'm— I'm sorry,” Dean said.

“You think I wouldn't give my teeth to see Mr. Cooper? Or a sunset, or anything at all?”

Dean whispered to you, “Wanna give me a little help here?”

You shook your head. “Not really.”

“Hey man, is there a problem?” a voice interrogated from behind you. You turned to see a very short man in a red cape.

“Yeah, this guy hates blind people,” the knife-thrower said.

“No, I don't, I—” Dean’s gorgeous smile was doing nothing to help him in this situation.

“Hey, buddy, what's your problem?” the short man scowled.

“Nothing, it's just a little misunderstanding.”

“Little?! You son of a bitch!” The man went to charge Dean.

“No, no, no, no! I'm just— could somebody tell me where Mr. Cooper is?”

You and Sam snickered.

“Please?” you asked. 

The short man looked up at you, and his gaze softened. “Sure, sweetheart, follow me.”

“Thanks,” you smiled, looking back at the boys. 

Dean’s jaw was clenched for a reason you weren’t quite sure of. When you asked, he said, “Just don’t like anybody else callin’ you that.”

You smiled lopsidedly. He could be really sweet when he wanted to be.

Mr. Cooper met you at the door of his office and invited you in. “You three picked a hell of a time to join up. Take a seat.”

You looked at the available seating options, and Dean motioned for you to take the normal of the two chairs. You obliged, and Dean stood behind you, forcing Sam to sit in the obnoxious pink chair with a giant clown face on it. He sat on the chair hesitantly and refused to relax into it. 

“We've got all kinds of local trouble,” Mr. Cooper continued.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Oh, a couple of folks got themselves murdered. Cops always seem to start here first. So, you three ever worked the circuit before?”

“Yes, sir, last year through Texas and Arkansas,” Sam responded.

“Doing what? Ride jockeys? Butcher? ANS men?” 

“Yeah, it's, uh, little bit of everything, I guess.”

Mr. Cooper eyed your group strangely. “You three have never worked a show in your lives before, have you?”

“Nope,” Dean grinned. “But we really need the work. Oh, and uh, Sam here's got a thing for the bearded lady.”

“You see that picture? That's my daddy.” The showrunner pointed to a black and white picture on the wall of a man in a fedora in front of a ferris wheel.

“You guys could be twins,” you pointed out. 

Mr. Cooper smiled thoughtfully. “He was in the business. Ran a freakshow. Till they outlawed them, most places. Apparently displaying the deformed isn't dignified. So most of the performers went from honest work to rotting in hospitals and asylums. That's progress, I guess. You see, this place, it's a refuge for outcasts. Always has been. For folks that don't fit in nowhere else.

"But you three? You should go to school. Find a couple of girls. Marry this one, maybe.” The man gestured to you. “Have two point five kids. Live regular.”

Dean went to say something, but Sam leaned forward, his eyes serious. “Sir? We don't want to go to school. And we don't want regular. We want this.”

You turned to him skeptically, as did Dean. 

Mr. Cooper told the three of you to return in a few hours for training, which you were a little surprised by the suddenness of. 

“I guess they really are desperate,” you said as the three of you left the carnival holding your uniforms to go change into. 

“Were you serious?” Dean asked his brother.

“What?” Sam furrowed his brows at him.

“That whole, uh, I-don't-want-to-go-back-to-school thing. Were you just saying that to Cooper or were you, you know, saying it?” Dean pressed further at his younger brother’s hesitance. “Sam?” 

“I don't know,” he replied.

“You don't know? I thought that once the demon was dead, and the fat lady sings ,that you were gonna take off, head back to Wussy State,” Dean deadpanned.

“I'm having second thoughts,” was all the younger brother answered with.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I think. Dad would have wanted me to stick with the job.”

Dean stopped Sam. “Since when do you give a damn what Dad wanted? You spent half your life doing exactly what he didn't want, Sam.”

“Since he died, okay? Do you have a problem with that?”

Dean’s voice hardened but remained sarcastic. “Naw, I don't have a problem at all.”

***

Later that day, you returned with the boys wearing a bright red “Cooper Carnival” jacket to begin your “janitorial job.” You were waiting for Sam or Dean to call you to tell you when to meet up with them for further investigation.

Before you had gotten a call from either, you noticed a little girl tugging on her mother’s jacket. “Mommy, look at the clown!” She pointed at something off in the distance. 

You followed her line of sight only to see nothing.

“What clown?” the mother asked. “Come on, sweetie, come on.”

You called Sam immediately. “Hey, dude. I got something.”

***

The three of you then chose to stake out the family’s home that evening. Dean had just relayed to you how the blind man overheard him calling Sam about the case and had to tell him you three were writing a book about the supernatural.

“Dean, I cannot believe you told Papazian about the homicidal phantom clown,” Sam snorted.

“I told him an urban legend about a homicidal phantom clown. I never said it was real,” Dean argued. He pulled a gun and cocked it. You jumped over the seat and shoved his arm down. “What are you, nuts? You’re gonna get us busted.”

“Oh, and get this,” Dean continued. “I mentioned the Bunker Brother's Circus in '81 and their, uh, evil clown apocalypse? Guess what.”

“What?” you and Sam asked.

“Before Mr. Cooper owned Cooper Carnival, he worked for Bunker Brothers. He was their lot manager.”

“So you think whatever the spirit's attached to, Cooper just brought it with him?” Sam questioned.

“Something like that.” The older brother shook his head and sighed. “I can't believe we keep talking about clowns.”

***

You and the Winchesters had been stalking these poor people’s home for hours now. Well, you and Sam had, at least. Dean, on the other hand, was dozing in the front seat. You shook him awake when you saw a phantom clown appear at the front door.

“Dee, look,” you said. 

He hummed and sat up, scrubbing a hand over his eyes. He turned and looked at you when he saw the girl leading the clown inside. 

You jumped out of the car and went through the back entrance of the house. You hid around a corner down the hallway from where the little girl and the clown were.

“Wanna see Mommy and Daddy? They're upstairs,” you heard the girl say. At that moment, Sam leapt out and grabbed the young girl who screamed.

Simultaneously, you shot at the clown while Dean cocked his shotgun again. “Sam, watch out!” he yelled. 

The clown leapt out the window, turning invisible as it shattered the glass of the front door.

The parents ran downstairs and began shouting at you and the brothers. You and the brothers dropped the girl and sprinted away, hearing the girl whine, “ Mommy, Daddy, they shot my clown!” as you headed out.

***

A while later, you and the brothers pulled off the side of the road and ditched the crappy van Dean had been driving you around in. You pulled the license plate off the back of the van and stuffed it in your duffel bag.

“You really think they saw our plates?” Sam asked you.

“I’m not taking any chances,” you said.

“I hate this fuckin’ thing anyway,” Dean grumbled. He began to lead you and his brother off the side of the road. “Well, one thing's for sure.”

“What?” you asked.

“We're not dealing with a spirit. I mean, that rock salt hit something solid,” Dean responded.

“Yeah, a person? Or maybe a creature that can make itself invisible?” Sam suggested.

“I don’t know, man, I’ve never heard of a creature like that. And it’s definitely not a person. I have no idea what the hell it could be,” you huffed.

“Did it say anything in Dad's journal?” Dean asked.

Sam cleared his throat and said, “Nope,” pulling out his cell phone.

“Who are you calling?” you asked him.

“Maybe Ellen or that guy Ash'll know something. Hey, you think, uh, you think Dad and Ellen ever had a thing?” Sam smirked.

“No way,” snorted Dean.

“Then why didn't he tell us about her?” retorted Sam.

“I don't know, maybe they had some sort of falling out,” the older brother shrugged.

“Yeah. You ever notice Dad had a falling out with just about everybody?”

You chuckled, but Dean simply nodded and looked at the floor. 

Sam lowered his phone. “Well, don't get all maudlin on me, man.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean this ‘strong silent’ thing of yours, it's crap,” Sam answered.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Oh, god.”

“I'm over it. This isn't just anyone we're talking about, this is Dad. I know how you felt about the man.”

Dean started walking a little faster. “You know what, back off, alright? Just because I'm not caring and sharing like you want me to.”

Sam caught up with his brother easily. “No, no, no, that's not what this is about, Dean. I don't care how you deal with this. But you have to deal with it, man. Listen, I'm your brother, all right? I just want to make sure you're okay.”

“Dude, I'm okay. I'm okay, okay? I swear, the next person who asks me if I'm okay, I'm gonna start throwing punches. These are your issues, quit dumping them on me!” the older Winchester said gruffly.

“What are you talking about?” Sam questioned.

“I just think it's really interesting, this sudden obedience you have to Dad. It's like, oh, what would Dad want me to do? Sam, you spent your entire life slugging it out with that man. I mean, hell, you, you picked a fight with him the last time you ever saw him. And now that he's dead, now you want to make it right? Well, I'm sorry Sam, but you can't, it's too little, too late.”

“Why are you saying this to me?”

“Because I want you to be honest with yourself about this. I'm dealing with Dad's death! Are you?”

You looked between the boys and knew Dean was handing Sam a load of bullshit. However, you decided to stow that conversation until you could get him in private.

Sam swallowed harshly, looking upset. “I'm going to call Ellen.” Sam walked a little ahead of you and Dean on the phone.

While Sam spoke to Ellen, you walked beside Dean wordlessly.

“(Y/N), you don’t have to act like I’m a bomb about to go off,” Dean said.

You looked up at him. “I’m not. I just thought you’d appreciate a little silence instead of me asking you to ‘share and care,’ as you put it.”

He nodded. “Thanks.” He intertwined his fingers with yours, allowing you to support him in that simple way. He rubbed his thumb over yours and continued to walk next to you. 

When Sam got off the phone, he turned back to you and his brother. “Wha—” He looked down at yours and Dean’s entwined hands and shook his head. “Nevermind. Rakshasa.”

“What's that?” Dean asked.

“Ellen's best guess. It's a race of ancient Hindu creatures. They appear in human form, they feed on human flesh, they can make themselves invisible, and they cannot enter a home without first being invited,” Sam explained.

“So they dress up like clowns, and the children invite 'em in. Why don't they just munch on the kids?”

“No idea. Not enough meat on the bones, maybe?”

“Well, that’s grotesque,” you noted.

“What else'd you find out?” Dean questioned.

“Well, apparently, Rakshasas live in squalor. They sleep on a bed of dead insects.” The younger brother grimaced.

“Nice,” you deadpanned.

“Yeah, and they have to feed a few times every twenty or thirty years. Slow metabolism, I guess.”

“Well, that makes sense. I mean, the Carnival today, the Bunker Brothers in '81—”

Sam cut his brother off. “Right. Probably more before that.”

“Who do we know that worked both shows?” You raised a brow.

“Cooper?” Sam replied.

“Yup.” You thought for a moment. “That picture of his father looked just like him. Maybe it was him.”

“Well, who knows how old he is?” Sam added.

“Ellen say how to kill him?” Dean asked.

“Legend goes, a dagger made of pure brass,” the brunet explained.

“I think I know where to get one of those.”

“Whoa, whoa,” you said. “Before we go stabbing Cooper, I wanna make damn sure it’s him.”

“Oh, you're such a stickler for details, sweetheart,” the older Winchester teased you. “Alright, I'll round up the blade, you two go check if Cooper's got bed bugs.”

***

You and Sam followed instructions and went to Mr. Cooper’s trailer. Dean had left the two of you to go find the blind man. Inside the trailer, you didn’t find any bugs he was nesting on. Just a plain, old twin mattress. 

“What the hell are you doing in here?” a voice called from behind you.

You wheeled around to see Mr. Cooper. “Oh, hi! Just the guy I wanted to—”

“Save it,” Mr. Cooper told you. “Get the hell out of here. Oh, and uh, you’re fired.”

You nodded. “I figured.”

You and Sam dashed out of Mr. Cooper’s trailer and over to where Dean had told you he’d be. When you arrived at the blind man’s tent, Dean stumbled out of the door.

“Holy shit, hey,” you said after he’d scared you.

“Hey.”

“So, Cooper thinks we’re Peeping Toms, but it's not him,” Sam explained.

“Yeah, so I gathered. It's the blind guy. He's here somewhere.”

“Well, did you get the—”

“The brass blades? No. No, it's just been one of those days,” Dean sarcastically replied. 

“I got an idea. Come on,” Sam said. You and Dean followed him to the funhouse. As you began to go through, the door slammed behind you between you and the brothers.

“Great!” you groaned. 

“(Y/N)!” Dean yelled, banging on the door. 

“(Y/N)! (Y/N/N), find the maze, okay?” Sam called to you.

“Okay!” you called back. You somehow stumbled your way through the maze and found the brothers. “Oh, thank god,” you sighed.

Sam broke a pipe off the organ a bit ahead of you. 

“Where is it?” you asked.

“I don't know, I mean, shouldn't we see its clothes walking around?” Dean answered. A knife flew right past your head, clipping your ear. “Fuck!”

“(Y/N)!” Sam called. “Where is it?”

“I don’t know, Sam, the thing’s invisible!” You jumped up, reached above your head, and grabbed a lever. When you pulled it down, steam poured out of the vent. 

“Sam, behind you! Behind you!” you heard Dean say. You began to run in the direction of Dean’s voice through the steam. When you arrived at him, there was a bloodied lump of clothes on the ground with a pipe sticking out from its chest. You turned to Dean who was pinned to the wall by two knives on his arm and helped him free himself.

“You okay?” he asked you. 

You nodded as you pulled the last knife out of his jacket.

“I hate funhouses,” he grumbled.

***

You sat next to Dean at Ellen’s bar, and she laid a few beers in front of you. “You kids did a hell of a job.” Ellen nodded at the brothers. “Your dad 'd be proud.”

Sam half-smiled. “Thanks.” He got up to walk over to Ash, and Jo took his place.

“So,” she cleared her throat.

‘Damn, this girl is bold,’ you thought.

“So,” you said.

She ignored you and focused on Dean. “Am I gonna see you again?”

Dean turned to her, surprised. “Do you want to?”

“I wouldn't hate it.”

You rolled your eyes and got up from your chair, heading over to Sam and Ash. You could feel Dean’s eyes on you as you walked away. You knew you had no reason to treat Jo poorly; she was just a young girl with a crush. She had no idea that you and Dean were at all involved. You truly didn’t even know if you and Dean were legitimately involved to begin with.

You noted Ash’s bizarre-looking laptop with exposed wiring and his stack of papers. “Whatcha got there, Pinky?”

He snorted at you. “I’d say I’m a little more Brain than anything, but where ya been? Been waitin’ for ya.”

“What, Ellen didn’t tell you about the clowns?” you asked.

“Clowns? What the fuck—”

You snickered as Dean walked up behind you. “You got something for us, Ash?”

“You find the demon?” Sam questioned.

Ash shook his head. “It's nowhere around. At least, nowhere I can find. But if this fugly bastard raises his head, I'll know. I mean, I'm on it like Divine on dog dookie.”

You laughed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, any of those signs or omens appear, anywhere in the world, my rig'll go off. Like a fire alarm.”

Dean reached for his laptop. “Do you mind…?”

Ash gave him a look, and Dean pulled his hand back from the keyboard. 

You smirked a little at the sight. “Ash, where did you learn to do all this?”

“M.I.T. Before I got bounced for... fighting.”

“No way!” you exclaimed.

He smirked at you and took a sip of his beer. 

“Okay. Give us a call as soon as you know something?” Dean said, suggesting to you and Sam it was time to go.

“Si, si, compadre.” Ash took the beer Dean had placed down and chugged the rest of it. 

You followed the brothers to the door. Ellen stopped you before you could leave. “Hey, listen— if you kids need a place to stay I've got a couple beds out back.”

“Thanks, but no. There's something I gotta finish,” Dean said.

***

“So, you get Jo’s number?” you asked back at Bobby’s junkyard. You sat cross-legged on the hood of one of the cars next to the Impala Dean was working on drinking a beer.

“What?” he asked incredulously. “Why would you think that?”

“Well, she obviously likes you. Kid was shamelessly flirting with you, so I just assumed—”

“No, (Y/N).” He put down the wrench he was holding. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“Well, okay, I just thought—”

He walked over to you and stood between your knees. He ran his hands up and down your thighs. “I’m telling you, I wouldn’t do that.”

“Dean, stop it. You don’t have to come over here and flirt with me just ‘cause I got jealous” you said. 

“I’m not,” he assured you. “Look, we haven’t had a chance to talk about everything—”

“And I don’t need us to. I know you need time after your dad—”

“Would you let me finish?”

“Yeah, sorry,” you muttered. 

“But I have no interest in Jo. She’s layin’ it on a little too thick for my taste,” he smirked.

"I don't know, Dean, your bar hookups always lay it on pretty thick," you reminded him.

"Yeah, guess you're right. But she's not you. So I'm not interested."

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Okay, well, I’m gonna go get some more beer. You want one?”

He nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

You headed back inside and passed Sam on the way. You found Bobby inside and began to update him on the situation with the brothers.

“I don’t know, Bobby, neither of them are doing well,” you said. “But it’s Dean I’m the most worried about.”

“Why’s that?” the older man asked.

“He’s just… bottling it up. He wouldn’t even let me sit next to him while he worked on his car for the first week we were here. He’s worrying me.”

“Sounds like Dean,” Bobby nodded. “But I think if anybody can get ‘im to open up, it’s gonna be you.”

You eyed him strangely. “What makes you say that?”

“He’s just… different with you. I think he puts up a bit of a front with Sam. But never with you.”

You nodded. “I’ll keep trying.” You grabbed two beers and again passed Sam as he came back into the house with tears in his eyes. As you approached Dean’s car, you heard slamming metal on metal and Dean grunting. You quickened your step to get to him, holding a beer in each hand. When you arrived, you saw him hitting the Impala’s trunk with a crowbar over and over again.

“Dean, what the f—”

He looked up at you and fought back tears. You put the beers on the car behind you and slowly approached him. You opened your arms to him and wrapped them around his torso, and he finally responded by burying his face in your hair. You could feel him still trying to stifle his tears, but it was clear he was unsuccessful. You let him hug you for as long as he needed to.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[obsessedwrhys]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ HER FURY

ᯓ★ Reader has EXTREME emotional detachment/anger issues, enemies to lovers trope (?), John loves to rile up reader, angst (mention of r-word but it doesnt happen dw), slight gore?, lots of funny shi tho, intense smooching but nothing crazy 🤯, reader is fem!!! (Literally writing this instead of doing my assignment, didnt proof read I rushed)

ᯓ★

Pairing you and John up for any mission was a recipe for disaster. Yet Dutch doesn't seem to catch the memo about the chemistry between you both. You HATED John and he? He enjoys that you hate him. As a matter of fact, he gets the thrill out of pissing you off. Because everybody and I mean EVERYBODY at camp knows you have a bad temper. It's just some of them happen to value their life instead of testing your limits.

Nonetheless Dutch had asked of you and John to confront a company man in Saint Denis. The details were that he had a contract that you needed to steal from him. You didn't know much but all you knew was that he played the chief into giving up all his property to the him and with the crew needing help from the chief, this was the only way to do it.

You're never a complainer when it comes to being assigned a mission but since you're being paired up with John and not to mention being told to do it this early in the morning.

You were pissed.

"Can't believe I'm doing this in the morning... Out of everyone Dutch should know I'm not a morning person" You cursed before riding off with John matching your pace on his horse.

Hearing your muttered curses, he can't help but smirk.

"Ain't that the truth. I don’t think anyone in this gang is a mornin’ person" He said.

"Oh shut up" You simply replied.

John doesn't say anything but chuckle at your annoyance. Eventually you two made it to the city, you both dismounted your horses and tied them to a nearby hitching pole. Even in the early morning, the city of Saint Denis was already bustling with activity, horse-drawn wagons passed by, and people hustled and bustled about their business.

John and you made your way through the city, eyeing the people around you and listening for any clues about the man Dutch sent you to hunt down. As you made your way down the sidewalk, you couldn't help but glare at every businessman your eyes laid upon. The way they speak and act just manages to tick you off. This however caught John's attention.

"Ain't you just a ray of sunshine" He sarcastically said and it made you look at him with your brows narrowed.

"What?"

"What? You're scarin' the city folks, that's what"

You scoff.

"All these rich folks just make me all pissed off. Actin' all high and mighty like their lives are worth more than the poor. It's all about class 'til you're talking to someone beneath you"

John chuckled, his eyes following your gaze as you glared at the next businessman walking past you.

"I don’t blame ya. Most of these fools wouldn’t last a day out there tryin’ to survive. They ain’t got any idea what it’s really like" He said and you somehow found yourself nodding to his words.

Suddenly your eyes stopped at a figure hurrying outside a tailor shop. His appearance fitting the very description Dutch had provided you. You nudged John with your elbow and you jerked your head towards the target. John followed your gaze, his eyes landing on the man you pointed at. He studied him for a moment, taking in his features and behaviour.

"I think that's him" You said.

"Seems like it" he answered in a serious tone.

"He’s in a pretty big hurry to get somewhere, ain't he?" He pointed out the obvious.

"Well let's make sure he doesn't get there" Before you even finished talking you were already going after the man.

The two of you started following the man while making sure to keep some distance as to not raise any suspicion. Eventually, the man's route lead the two of you to a quieter part of the city, away from most of the people. John shot a glance your way, a silent question in his eyes of what to do next.

You don't say anything but the mischief on your face somehow answered that question in his head.

"Hey!!" You called out to the guy who's body tenses at your voice. Despite you trying to plaster on a smile, it just made you come off scary.

"What do you want? Money?" he asked gruffly, his hand reaching for something inside his pocket discreetly.

"Money? Is that what you think what my kind is always after?" You approached him slowly and John simply watched from a feet away, his arms crossed with a glimpse of amusement on his face.

He had to admit, this is always the best part of being paired up with you.

"I heard from a birdy that you've done something terrible... you wouldn't happen to be familiar with the chief now would you?" You placed a hand on his shoulder and from how the man's eyes widened slightly at your question and the hint of nervousness displayed on his face.

You knew this was the right guy.

"And who might you be? A-And why should I tell you anything about my business with the chief?" He asked, his tone guarded and wary with suspicion.

When your hands came down to smooth out the wrinkled fabric of his suit, he yelps at the sudden tuck of his tie. You laugh it off.

"I'm simply a nobody but I know damn well you tricked the chief into giving up half his property to your company. Now I don't care what you need it for but there's nothing more that I hate than a lying scum" You flash him a smile before grabbing him forcefully by the jaw. Your action causing him to panic.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about! Let me go!!" He stammered, his mask now slipping away to reveal his true self.

"Give me the contract sir and you won't be leaving here with a broken nose" You casually spoke and John stepped a feet closer to the scene.

"Just do what she says sir" John added and the man looks between the two of you before finally nodding quickly.

"O-Okay!! It's in my pocket!!" He said and you gave him a warning look before releasing your grip on him.

He took a few deep breaths to steady himself before taking out a crumpled piece of paper. You raise your eyebrow as you took it from him, then unfolding it to read the words written on it properly. Once you were sure it was the real thing, you turn to face John who has a small smirk on his face from observing the confrontation.

"Well, well... that was quite the performance darlin" He said, taking the contract from you the second you handed it to him.

"I ain't your darlin" You said as you walked past him and back onto the city streets. He chuckles softly while following you from behind.

"Oh, that's right. You ain’t my darlin’, you're just someone extremely stubborn and bossy who I gotta follow around all day" He said, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"Glad we've got that cleared out"

Suddenly the sound of a whistle pierced through the air. John's expression darkened at the sight of the lawmen headed at the direction of the two of you.

"Great, now the law is after us. Figures" He remarked at the turns of events but you were already halfway getting onto your horse.

"Are you plannin' on staying?!" You shouted and he didn't need to be told twice as he quickly got on his horse.

The two of you quickly rode off and you checked over your shoulder to see several lawmen hot on your trail. Their guns firing as they tried to stop you from escaping. John, too, was firing his pistol as he rode, his aim steady and focused. You let out an annoyed groan before taking out your rifle and began shooting at the reinforcements coming from the left.

"Now I'm thinking if I should have killed the guy!" You shouted before shooting one square in the face.

John chuckled grimly as he watched you take out another lawman, his focus still on the ones from behind.

"Maybe you should've done us all a favor and put him out of his misery. Would've saved us a whole lot of trouble" He said and with half of them taken out and some on their way. You quickly looked around for an escape route.

"There!! The trees!!" You pointed.

John followed your lead, steering his horse into the trees as you both hid together. The two of you waited silently, the only sound the rapid beating of your hearts as the lawmen rode past, their horses' hooves thundering against the ground. Once they were out of sight, John let out a breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"Well, that was a close call" he muttered, his voice a little out of breath.

"I suppose I should be thanking you for getting us into this mess in the first place, then?" He manages to say even after barely making it out. You shoot him a death glare.

"Now I'm wishing Dutch had picked Javier to come with me" You said before galloping the way back to camp.

John raises his brows out of shock at your sudden confession. Quickly and almost desperately, he catches up to you and rode alongside you.

"Oh, come on, I ain't that bad" he countered, his tone feigning offense.

"You're worse" You said and like always, you rode off in a haste, leaving him completely behind. He sighs as he watches you go.

-

Once you made it back to camp, John arrived right after you. He got off his horse and he watches as you hand Dutch the contract before heading to your tent. When he tries to say something to you, you gave him a middle finger with your back facing him. Clearly noticing you're not in a good mood, he shrugs and walked away.

John had an amused look on his face as he stood beside Arthur, the two of them watching you practically storming inside your tent.

"She's quite the firecracker, ain't she?" John said and it had Arthur chuckle, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Oh, that she does" he agreed with a smirk on his face.

"Although I gotta say, it's rather entertaining to see her riled up" He added.

Just then they see Uncle headed towards your tent. Clearly looking to ask you for something.

"This can go wrong in so many ways" Arthur observed.

The second Uncle made contact with your tent, that was it.

"GET OUT!!! GET THE FUCK OUT!!" You shouted and threw a candle that merely missed him by the head.

John and Arthur couldn't help but burst out laughing as they watched Uncle trip and fall on his way from your tent. Everybody knows that you hate getting your alone time interrupted, especially when you're tired or had just came back from a rough mission so anyone who tried to talk to you was practically asking for it.

"That poor bastard" John said, wiping a tear from his eye while Arthur's laughter was subsiding slowly.

"I gotta give him credit for trying though. He's either really brave or really stupid to approach when she's in a mood like that" Arthur chuckled.

Soon Javier joined the conversation, confusion and curiosity shown on his face.

"Well speak of the devil. Just in time to witness (Y/N) in all her glory" John said and Javier raised his brows in surprise.

"Ah, is she in a mood again? I thought I heard her yelling from all the way over there" Javier said and mirrored the other two who were standing and facing your tent.

"You heard right and apparently Uncle was unfortunate enough to be the first one to try and talk to her" John said with a slight smirk on his face.

"Poor bastard probably got an earful" Javier shaked his head with a chuckle.

"But I wonder why she's always so angry, there has to be a reason to her anger" Javier spoke and it sparked something inside John's mind.

He always figured it was something apart of your character so he never thought to view things like that.

"Who knows? Dutch found her in the woods alone, starved to bone and yet she still had the energy to fight. She was only 9 and she never told us why she was out there all alone" Arthur answered.

"Poor girl"

"Yeah"

As the two kept on talking. John was standing there with his arms crossed as he's completely lost in his mind. The one question he never thought he should pay more attention to.

Why were you angry?

-

The evening came fast. Everybody was busy doing their own thing and John was simply relaxing by the chair until he heard sounds of giggles. The voice was awfully familiar so he got up to follow the source of the sound. To his surprise he found you playing with Jack by the grass a bit further from camp. You were teaching him how to make a flower crown and John couldn't help but notice the one on top of Jack's head.

"Well, I'll be damned" John muttered.

"She's a natural isn't she?" He jumps slightly at Hosea who pretty much came out of nowhere.

"Looks like she's got a soft spot for the kid" He added as the two watch you laugh when Jack began stressing over the steps.

"More like a natural pain in my ass" John said and Hosea snorts. The sound catching your attention almost immediately, the second your neck snapped towards their direction. The two knew what was coming.

"THE HELL ARE YOU TWO LOOKIN' AT?!" You cursed while amusingly at the same time were covering Jack's ears.

The sight was enough to have John grin.

"I didn't know you were a real softie for the kid!" He said while Hosea decided to leave for the sake of his safety.

"I bet you even read bedtime stories to the boy"

"She does!!" Jack said and you couldn't contain the betrayal on your face when you turned to look at him. Seeing your face, John laughs.

"Can I get a piggyback ride auntie (Y/N)?" Jack asked so innocently that you couldn't stay mad at him. You simply nodded and he giggled with excitement as he settled onto your back.

"Say the thing!!" Jack said and you awkwardly looked at John from the corner of your eyes to see him looking all curious.

Ah... this is so embarrassing...

"All abroad the (Y/N) express..." You said with less energy than you usually do but regardless Jack was having the time of his life.

This just made John burst out into laughter. If he thought he hadn't seen it all, he does now.

"Damn kids got a good grip on you" He said, following you as you carried Jack around the camp. Your expression stoic while Jack was acting as though he was flying.

"Good I wouldn't want him to fall" Hearing you say that, John couldn't help but let a genuine smile slip.

"Of course you wouldn't" He said, his tone more softer and now less teasing.

The second it was night time, it was your turn to patrol the grounds. You walked around, rifle in hand as you were on high alert and watching for any potential dangers. It was peaceful you had to admit, just you and the sounds of the trees rustling through the wind.

You continued on your patrol until your ears perked up at the sound of footsteps approaching. You turned around almost in a blink of an eye, rifle drawn at the figure nearing towards you... only to see it was none other than John.

Of course it's John.

Why wouldn't it be John?

"Can't you just leave me alone?" You asked while he had both his hands raised up.

"Wow now, I just wanted to keep you company"

"God you're like a poodle. Wouldn't leave me alone" You said as you lowered your rifle and continued on the path of your patrol. He snickers at your words.

"A poodle? That's a new one"

You simply ignored him hoping that he'll go away but instead he followed you. After a few moments of silence, he spoke up, his tone a little softer than usual.

"So, what made you suddenly decide to take Jack on your back and act all motherly-like?" He asked and you were hoping he would drop that topic by now.

"What do you mean? I'm always like that" You response made John raised an eyebrow, a hint of surprise in his expression.

"You? Always motherly?" he chuckled, his skepticism evident.

"That's not the impression you usually give off, darlin"

"Oh please I can be nice. It's just some people don't deserve that from me"

"And who exactly doesn't deserve your so-called kindness?" he inquired, knowing very well that the list was probably long.

"People who just keeps on pissing me off" You look over at him for a quick second that if he wasn't looking at you from the start, he would have missed it.

"You mean, like me?"

"Oh you just happen to be at the top of my list" John chuckled, clearly enjoying your blunt honesty.

"I'm honored. It's good to know that I'm holding the top spot on your list of people you hate most" He said with a sarcastic voice.

After what felt like minutes of walking around, you let out a yawn as you decided to rest by a log. John stood by where you're sitting, his arms crossed as he tilts his head at you.

"Exhausted?" He asks.

"Of your shit? Yeah, just about"

He rolls his eyes at your reply before making himself sit down beside you. You stare off into the distance, at the brightly litted camp. He stared at the emotionless look on your face. Almost like all joy was sucked out of you. Sensing this might the best time and the only time he'll get, he decided to ask something.

"I heard that Dutch found you alone in the woods when you were 9. How'd that come to be?" He asks and you were still for a second before your eyes turned to look at him. With the way you were staring at him so coldly, he was wondering if he had pissed you off.

"... how would you understand?" You asked and he paused for a moment, his expression hardening slightly.

He understood your hint that you didn't think he would understand how you felt, which rubbed him the wrong way. He let out a scoff, his irritation growing.

"I ain't some damn fool, darlin'. Don't assume I can't empathize with you just cause I ain't the most sensitive person in this gang" He said and you stared at him a little longer before letting out a defeated sigh.

"I grew up in a poor family. Everyday it was a struggle to even put food on our plate. So one day my deadbeat father thought it would better off selling me and my sisters to some rich perverts. I fought like hell to run away. In a way I thought it would be better having my body torn apart by the wolves than to have a man touch me inappropriately" You said and every word that came out of you made John's mouth go dry.

It's no stranger that majority of everyone in the gang had their troubling past but to hear it from the very person who barely ever expressed themselves. It was different.

"I hated my dad. Fuck. I hated my mom more for not doing anything. The more I grew up, the more I grew to hate everybody. This ain't even the life I wanna live so what's the point of loving it" You cursed, your hands now clenching into a fist.

"So you hate everyone because of what your parents did to ya? Don't get me wrong, they sure can rot in hell for what they did but for you to keep everyone at arm's length? Don't you think it's a bit lonely? Living like that?" He said and you looked at him.

"You're the one telling me this?"

"I'm just sayin', pushing everyone away ain't gonna fill that loneliness inside you, darlin'." He said.

You stared at him, contemplating a bit while John held your gaze, his dark eyes studying your face intently. He could see the conflict in your expression, the internal struggle you were having with yourself. He shifted slightly, leaning closer towards you. His voice was low and earnest as he spoke.

"You can't keep running from your feelings, darlin'. Sooner or later, they'll catch up to you" He said.

"And what if they hurt me again?" You said and guilty enough your eyes trailed down to his lips which made John's breath hitch as he felt his pulse quicken for a brief moment before he quickly composed himself.

"What if they don't, darlin'? What if you're just letting your fears control you? Letting you miss out on something great? On moments that could possibly make you feel alive again?" He said, forcing his voice to remain even and steady.

Alive...

You looked at him and he swore he has never seen you this vulnerable before. So when you leaned in towards him, John's heart skipped a beat. Your lips inches apart that for a brief moment he thought you were going to do something unexpected... but then you pulled back, quickly standing up and breaking the closeness between you two. John felt a pang of disappointment in his chest, though he quickly masked it with a neutral expression.

"Where you going?" he asked, his voice slightly hoarse.

"To sleep" You said, rifle held by your side as you went. He doesn't say anything as he remained seated on the log. He let out a sigh and turned his gaze towards the ground, his thoughts a tangled mess in his head.

-

For the next few days, John had noticed the subtle changes in your behavior. He realized that you were deliberately avoiding him. You would steer clear of him whenever he was around, finding tasks or conversations to distract yourself elsewhere.

He couldn't help but feel confused and slightly hurt by your distant attitude. He hadn't done anything to warrant such coldness from you, and the only interaction you'd had was that brief exchange in the woods. So he figured it was because of that night that your behaviour have changed towards him.

John's irritation began to grow as your subtle avoidance continued. He couldn't understand why you were suddenly treating him like he didn't exist. He was used to your usual hostility, sure, but this was a different kind of cold shoulder. So there's no other solution but to confront you.

One evening, after the camp had quieted down for the night, John approached you while you were sitting alone, sharpening your knife. The second you became aware of his presence, you quickly got up and tried to leave however this time he stood in your way blocking your path.

"Now hold on a moment, we need to talk" He said firmly.

"There's nothing to talk about" You said and John grew annoyed at your dismissive response.

"Oh, there's plenty to talk about... You've been avoiding me like the plague for days now. Can you at least tell me what the hell I did to deserve this silent treatment?" He said and you couldn't help swallow anxiously.

"Maybe have you thought that it isn't about you?" You said and once again tried to walk past him but as predicted, he stood in your way. His body almost towering over yours.

"Don't give me that horseshit, I ain't blind. You've been avoiding me like the plague. And every time I try to talk to you, you practically bolt in the other direction" He said, clearly growing more infuriated.

"I'm a busy girl!"

"A busy girl, huh?" he repeated sarcastically, his tone laced with thinly veiled anger.

"I ain't buying it. You've always found time to be a pain in my ass, and now suddenly you're too damn busy to even look at me?"

""What the hell do you want from me John?! You just looking for someone to put your anger out on?!" You raised your voice and John wasn't afraid to match your tone.

"Maybe I am! Maybe I'm sick of your goddamn attitude, your constant need to push everyone away. You ain't fooling anyone with your coldness. You're scared!"

"I'm scared?!"

"Yeah, you're scared. You're scared of letting anyone in, scared of letting your guard down. You act tough and distant 'cause you think it'll keep you safe. But it's all just a—"

Before he could continue on talking, you suddenly grabbed him by the collar to kiss him on the lips. The action clearly caught John off guard, his surprise evident on his face. But his body responded to you despite his confusion, his own anger fueling his reaction.

He returned the kiss passionately, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you against him in a tight embrace. The kiss was fierce and consuming, both of you releasing all the pent up frustration and tension between you two.

John's hands ran over your body, his touch greedy and possessive. He pressed himself hard against you, his body molding to yours as if he couldn't get close enough.

He broke the kiss for a brief moment, his breathing ragged and his eyes dark with desire. He captured your lips again, his tongue seeking entry into your mouth as his hands roamed under your shirt, exploring the bare skin of your waist.

That was until the sound of someone talking from nearby that made the both of you snap out of the moment. John's attention snapped away from you for a brief moment, his eyes darting towards the source of the noise.

He then took a step back, creating a small space between you now. Both of you were breathing heavily, trying to catch your breaths after the intense moment you had just shared. Surprisingly you were the first to speak up.

"I... I didn't mean to avoid you... I was just scared of these feelings I felt around you... I thought ignoring it— ignoring you was the better idea" You said. After all, you weren't ever good at understanding your emotions.

John watched you, taking in the mixture of emotions that played across your face. He knew exactly what you were feeling because he knew what that feeling was. He took a step closer to you again, his expression now more serious.

"Sometimes we can't control how we feel, darlin'. And trust me, ain't nothing wrong with what we just did" He said, gently caressing the side of your face.

"... I'm fucking scared John... in this life I'm used to losing people, if I let myself feel things then I don't think I'll be able to survive the thought of losing you" You said, the fear in your confession made John frown a bit but there was this sweetness in his gaze when he cupped your face to look at him.

"I ain't going anywhere, darlin'. You ain't gonna lose me, I promise you that"

"You can't be sure" You said, your hands rested on top of his.

"You're right, I can't guarantee anything in this life... but I can promise you I'll do everything in my power to stay by your side. I ain't leaving you, no matter what. You got my word on that" He said, his eyes never leaving yours. You stared at him for a while before resting your head on his chest.

"God I hate you" You sighed but your lips formed a small smile. Seeing that, John couldn't help but chuckled, a warm, genuine smile spreading across his face as he wrapped his arms around you.

"You don't hate me. You can't stand me, though, I know that. But you definitely don't hate me. Otherwise, you wouldn't be leaning on me like this" He teased.

"Stop pushing your luck"

"Oh, come on, darlin'. You know you love me really" he said continuing his tease with a smirk on his face.

"Ugh..." You groaned and it had John chuckled again, enjoying the playful banter between the two of you. He tightened his arms around you while holding you close to him, his face nuzzling into your hair and his voice lowering to a husky, teasing tone.

"You don't have to admit it right now... but I know you do..."

[loveharlow]

SEVEN [THE INBETWEEN] - KISS IT BETTER

PAIRING ‧₊˚ JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚[2.5k] Three weeks of no John B or Sarah and you're officially overwhelmed with grief and mixed signals, leading to an emotional outburst directed at certain blonde.

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, mentions of death, mutual pining, grief avoidance, little fluff, mentions of low self-esteem/negative self-image, mentions of past non-con

NOW PLAYING‧₊˚

A/N‧₊˚ I think this chapter is actually so soft and beautiful🥺 and I never really say this but I do think listening to the song on repeat as you read makes it one hundred times better.

˗ˏˋ series masterlist ˎˊ˗

THIS DAY MARKED THREE WEEKS SINCE YOU’D LOST JOHN B AND SARAH…And one week since JJ kissed you out of nowhere. Co-existing in your other presumed dead best friend’s house has been…odd, to say the least. You didn’t really know how to talk to JJ now, which was something you never thought would be an issue.

He’d been in the surf shack working on your car more than usual, without your company unfortunately. You’d been taking more small jobs just to get out of the house at this point. But barely talking to your best friend for an entire week while living in the same space was starting to take a toll on you.

And so was the kiss.

Did he mean to do it? Was it a spur of the moment thing? Did JJ have feelings for you? Ten thousand thoughts running around in your mind at once, driving you closer and closer to the edge of crazy. Your heart was telling you that the kiss was no accident — that it seemed too passionate and eager to be something he’d done in the heat of the moment. But your head was telling you that the kiss was an act of grief — something he’d done in a moment where his head wasn’t exactly screwed on straight.

That it was an honest mistake.

You didn’t know which part of you that you believed.

Or which part of you that you wanted to believe.

It was nightfall when you walked up the steps of The Chateau, bag slung lazily over your shoulder as you huffed out a puff of air, exhausted from your nearly ten hour long babysitting gig. Some couple needed someone to watch over their three kids while they went on a date. You should’ve known something was off when the mother was offering fifty dollars an hour, way over minimum wage — her three kids were more like a pint-sized trio of bats from hell. But you walked away with five-hundred more dollars in your pocket, so who were you to complain?

But even with fatigue and hunger weighing heavy on your bones, your heart still dropped at the thought of seeing JJ at the end of the day.

Sighing, you quietly opened the door of the home, throwing your bag on the sofa and letting the door close behind you as Marley immediately came charging, light paws feeling like punches on your thighs but you smiled nonetheless.

“Hi, pretty girl. How are you?” You cooed, scratching behind both of her ears as she wiggled against you.

Another set of footsteps rounded the corner, a freshly awoken JJ coming into your view. You coughed awkwardly under your breath, straightening out as the two of you locked eyes. “Oh, hey. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“Nah, it’s fine. I’m just glad you made it in before it got too late, one of the corner stores got robbed a couple hours ago.” He said, voice raspy and low from sleep as he rubbed the exhaustion out of his eyes.

The two of you stood there awkwardly— JJ scratching the back of his head as you averted your eyes anywhere else, Marley’s panting filling the silence.

You took a deep breath, shoving your hands in the back of your pockets as JJ mindlessly nibbled on his lower lip. You took the opportunity to break the silence, the blonde seemingly having the same idea.

“Well, I’m gonna get ready for bed-”

“Look, I’m sorry-”

You both stopped talking, attempting to allow the other to speak. Small smiles broke out on your faces, the two of you looking down at your feet simultaneously. “This is awkward, if I’ve ever seen it…” JJ huffed out humorously. “Can we just…like, sit down and talk, for a minute?” He asked, his own words making him cringe slightly as he motioned towards the battered sofa.

You nodded, not saying a word as you plopped down on the piece of furniture, eyes on the floor as your hands held each other in your lap. JJ sat down oddly slow next to you. You expected him to try and create as much distance between the two of you as possible but surprisingly, he sat so close that your shoulders were brushing in the tiniest of ways.

The unexpectedness of it all had your brows furrowing, finding some kind of courage to look the boy in his eyes as he finally settled on the right words to say.

“...I shouldn’t have kissed you.” For some reason, the string of words made your heart tremble and your lips parted in surprise. They hurt more than you ever expected them to. Noticing your solemn expression, JJ was quick to clean up his statement, turning in his seat to look at you completely. “Not in the sense that I didn’t want to, no, God no.” He sputtered, hands moving around wildly. “It’s just that, with everything going on, I don't think that moment was the best moment to act on my feelings-”

He was cut off when you lurched forward, colliding your lips with his in the heat of the moment. In your haste and his surprise, the blonde accidentally bit your lip but you didn’t mind, never breaking the exchange. After a moment, you both seemed to settle into it — one of his hands sliding around your hip and waist to find a home on the end of your back, pulling you closer in the smallest motion. Your own hands cradled his jaw on each side, pulling him deeper into you.

You kissed that boy until you couldn’t anymore. Until your lips were swollen and wet, your head spinning as you pulled back and let your hands fall, sliding down the length of his neck and shoulders while his own hand slid back to rest on your thigh.

“...What was that for?” He asked in a whisper. He sounded breathless.

You simply gulped, tucking a small strand of hair behind your ear before speaking. “...When you kissed me, I felt something. Something I didn’t think I should feel while kissing my best friend. Because I never thought I’d be kissing my best friend at all.” You explained, elevating your gaze to meet his eyes. “And I thought to myself that I should feel repulsed. That the kiss should feel wrong. Right? But nothing about that kiss felt wrong.” You told him. “I haven’t been avoiding you because of the kiss, JJ. I’ve been avoiding you because I haven’t been able to get the thought of kissing you again out of my head since it happened.”

“And now that you have?” He asked, eyes searching yours. “Now, that you have kissed me again?”

“...I’m struggling not to do it a third time.” You breathed out, eyes fleeting towards his lips for the slightest of moments. “I don’t know what this is. In my head, you’re my absolute best friend and I love you in that aspect but everytime I see you now, I can’t help but think about you in ways that I shouldn’t. So, if that kiss or this one didn’t mean anything to you, you’d better tell me now because-”

“Oh, it meant something.” He cut you off enthusiastically, a small smirk playing on his lips. “I know you probably have no idea but that kiss meant everything to me.” He told you, edging closer on the sofa. “I’ve had this huge crush on you for, like, ever. Probably since I even knew what a crush was. But you know how I am…” He lowered his voice, avoiding your eyes. “I didn’t trust myself with you. Anytime I look at you, I see this ball of light around you and I never want it to go away. Or be the reason for it going away. With me and all my shit…”

“I don’t think of you like that.” You said honestly, a small frown on your face. “You aren’t some southside screw up or a charity case. JJ, you know that I don’t care about all that. I’m always there to walk through it with you, your life doesn’t define you, you know that. Or at least, you should.” You told the blonde, running a soft hand through his hair. “And I know that it may take some time for you to believe that for yourself but I’ll be the one to tell you it everyday until you actually hear it, as a friend or…whatever else.”

You reminded the boy, biting your lower lip in thought. “...That’s why you never said anything? Because you thought you weren’t good for me?”

He seemed to ponder on the statement before nodding, somewhat shamefully. “I mean, c'mon, look at you.” He scoffed, wide blue eyes looking at your face with so much adoration and purity that you never cared to notice before. “Someone like you doesn’t need to waste her life away trying to love someone like me.”

“I do love you-”

“Not in the way that I love you.” He blurted, pinching his eyes shut as he cut you off.

“...I could. But you’ll never know if you don’t let me try.” You told him. “I won’t sit here and tell you that I love you in that way because I really don’t know. But whatever I’m starting to feel for you is beyond a friendship and once I figure that out, who knows? But I also don’t want you to wait on me to figure things out if that’s not what you want.” You concluded, retreating your hands back to the comfort of your lap.

You don’t know how helpless you looked, but you made no attempt to hide the frown that you could feel on your face. You knew JJ was known as promiscuous but his ways seemed to have settled with everything that’s happened. Although the thought of him with anyone made your gut turn, you didn’t want to confine him within the cage of your emotional contemplation. You didn’t want to lead him on now knowing how he felt about you.

“Hey,” He started, a hand on your arm. “I will wait. And that’s my choice. If you decide that you want me, that you want this, then I will be here. I know my past actions are probably making my words seem like a load of shit right now, but weeks ago? When I was hooking up with half the island? I was under the impression that you and I would never happen. But now there’s a chance.” He spoke, laughing at the end of his sentence, the oddness of the action making your face twist. “Sorry, I just, I thought about somethin'.” He said, waving himself off. “I was talking to Bree one day, about you. I told him that the odds of you ever liking me back were one in a million. And he told me that a one in a million chance is still a chance, to which I told him that he was full of shit. But now…” He trailed off, shrugging.

“...John B knew?” You asked, tilting your head to the side. JJ rolled his eyes playfully.

“I think everyone knew, except you, of course.” He cocked an eyebrow, you being the one to roll your eyes this time. 

“...So what do we do now?” You asked, voice small.

JJ sighed, suddenly sitting up straighter in his seat and taking both of your hands in his own. “...As much as I want to make you my girlfriend, right here and right now, I don’t think it’s a good idea. I think that we both need time to grieve and sort ourselves and I also think that you need time to explore your feelings more and make sure that this isn’t a fluke.” That was the most mature sentence you'd ever heard leave JJ's lips.

“A fluke?” You asked, mildly offended. “What does that mean?”

“Just that, I’ve seen how you can deal with grief. And not to twist the knife…are you okay with me talking about the…Rafe thing?” You clenched your jaw at the mere mention of his name, nodding stiffly in JJ’s direction, the boy drawing his lips into a thin line before continuing. “When that happened, you were still grieving. You kissed him because you were in a bad place and he was there and he ended up...taking advantage of that vulnerable part of you, right?” You hummed in agreement. “I am not at all blaming you for what happened when I say this. You didn’t deserve it and that asshole should be six feet under for what he did and, God so help me, I will put him there myself-”

“JJ.” You interrupted the boy’s rant, wanting him to finish his point completely. Huffing out a puff of air, he continued.

“I’m sorry. I just, I really hate that that happened to you. And I know it happened to you, not me but I want to kill him. Every day that I wake up, I just hope he's dead somewhere.”

“I know. Trust me, I know.” You reassured.

“But all I’m trying to say is that, I don’t want to repeat that same cycle — taking advantage of your emotional state. I want you to be yourself again and be in the right space before trying to take this any further. And I want you to have no doubts and be completely sure.” You understood his point of view and his reasoning behind it. Nodding, you allowed him to finish his sentence. “So, for now? We can just figure things out, set some kinda boundaries, if you want.”

You thought about it for a moment, fingers drawing shapes on one of his hands. “...Just honesty. If you kiss someone, hook up with someone…” The words made your eyes twitch. “Just don’t let me find out from someone else.”

“Oh, I can promise you that I have no one else on my mind, especially now that I know I’m on yours, so there will be nothing to tell ‘n nothin’ to find out, m’lady.” He smiled, saluting towards you. “I’m all yours, even if you aren’t mine. Yet.” He winked.

It’d been weeks since you’d seen the goofy side of JJ. It was comforting. 

You giggled, bowing your head slightly. “I promise that I am solely focused on clarifying my feelings towards you and only you, blondie.” You returned the sentiment and the salute. “What about our friendship, though? Is it still a friendship?”

“Mmm….” He thought aloud, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Actually, you’re the smart one. What’s like a fancy, silly term for developing a relationship? Like getting to know each other but not dating, like the in between stage?”

“...We can say we’re in a courtship?” You suggest half-jokingly, shrugging. “But… does this also mean we have to stop kissing each other? 'Cause I kind of like that part.”

JJ faked offense, throwing a palm against his chest and gasping. “Kissing?” He asked, wide eyed and shocked. “We are pogues. And number one rule of pogues, is no pogue-on-pogue macking…Eugh.” He reprimanded playfully, fake gagging. You slapped his shoulder in response, a smile on your face as one grew on his.

“No pogue-on-pogue macking, huh?” You said, playfully swatting his arms as he did yours. “

“That’s exactly right, little miss lips-a-lot - Ow! Did you just pinch my nipple?” He laugh-shouted, holding his chest as your swatting ceased. “What are you? Six?-”

You took the opportunity with JJ's guard down to grab the nape of his neck and pull his face into yours, giving him one last hard, passionate kiss of the night, slightly biting his lip as you drew your face away from his.

“How’s that for no pogue-on-pogue macking?”

next chapter>

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.SVN Taglist; @esquivelbianca @fallingwallsh @calmoistorm @i-love-ptv @liability28 @rivaiken @sophiahristov @rafxcameronss @ldrvinyl @purplerose291 @boo22sstuff @heartsforandrewgarfield @coolgirl458 @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @jujubeaz @ellobruv-blog @yourmumstoy @belle101200 @libertyybellls @c4ttheart @ihe4rttwd @redhead1180 @ditzyzombiesblog @spideysimpossiblegirl @sex-me-stiles @honeyiti @rafedrewandjjs @highformaybank @broidfk609

©loveharlow.

[echobx]

Twin Flame 4 - pervy!bsf!JJ Maybank × pervy!bsf!fem!reader

summary: y/n and JJ nearly get found out, and they are both separately figuring out what they feel for each other

word count: 3.3k

warnings: oral (male receiving), ball play, fingering, emotional conflicts (?), y/n battling jealousy

author's note: I accidentally wrote reader to be a microlabel of aromaticism. It was not my intial intention but now I'm embracing it. the romantic attraction is called quoiromantic and it's described as not being able to differentiate between romantic and platonic love and therefore being unsure if one ever has experienced romantic attraction at all. This will still end in a way that we'll all be happy, so don't be scared. And also, I think we should all embrace to be a little more inclusive, even if it starts with an accident.

series masterlist ♡ part 1 ♡ part 2 ♡ part 3

   You had talked to Sarah, in secret, knowing she wouldn't tell anyone, but you still hadn't mentioned JJ in it all. She explained the feelings part to you, the dizziness, the warmth, the increased loneliness when John B wasn't with her, the way her heart skipped when he smiled at her, how waking up next to him made every day seem a little brighter. 

   It gave you not much more clarity, though. You had always felt similarly towards JJ, he was your best friend after all. The uncertainty towards the whole thing made you not want to think or talk about it ever again. 

   Especially not when all you wanted to do was wake JJ by sucking him off. It wasn't uncommon for him to wake up with a boner anyway, especially not when you spent the night over. And maybe the fact that no one knew about your situation made it even better, because if they did, they would want you to act couple-y, and you were against that entirely. You weren't made to hold hands while walking through a park or over the beach. You weren't made to look at each other with love sick eyes and constant smiles plastered over your face. 

   No, you were made to give your best friend the head of his life as he slowly gained consciousness. Bopping your head and swirling your tongue, while your hand stroked the rest of his length, not being able to fit all of him unless you forced yourself to. Sometimes, when he got really whiny, without waking up still, you kissed and licked his balls while your hand took care of his cock. 

   The first time you had done it, he had woken up almost instantly, but now, he was better at keeping himself half asleep until he nutted. It wasn't like he missed much by not watching you, after all, you basically blew him just as much as he ate you out. 

   Sex was the only thing the two of you were good at together, and the friends part, but mainly sex. The shift from friends who fuck to fuck buddies that are also friends happened pretty drastically after that day at the lagoon. Neither of you complained, as your sex drives were at similar high levels. 

   “Shit, right there, baby,” JJ moaned, his morning voice was raspy, and you could feel yourself getting wetter by the second. 

   “JJ! Get up! We said we'd go fishing!” John B pounded against the door, and you looked up at JJ with furrowed brows, yet you continued to torture him with your perfect lips and throat. 

   “Fuck!” he hissed and leaned up, putting his weight on his elbows. “Gimme ten, I'll meet you outside.” 

   “Fine, but be quick about it. We still gotta go and pick y/n up,” JB yelled through the door, and you paused your actions. How could you forget about that? And how would you be able to make it home in time and still have time left to shower and change so you wouldn't smell like sex all day long. 

   “You wanna keep going?” JJ quirked his brow, and you sucked him off harsher, fastening your pace and hollowing your cheeks until he cursed. His legs started to tremble, and he shot his salty cum down your throat. 

   “Gonna repay you later,” he panted, lying back while you grabbed the water bottle next to his bed and washed down the rest of him inside your mouth. 

   “I have to go.” Hastily you put your clothes back on, unable to find your second sock and your bra, but that didn't matter anyway, you could pick them up next time. 

   “We could just let him know,” JJ sighed, still fighting to come down from his high. 

   “No. They'll ask why we aren't together, and I don't want to explain to them that it's not like that. They wouldn't get it,” you argued while tying your shoes. 

   “Forgot about that,” JJ murmured, as if he suddenly had a different opinion on it than you. 

   “Where did he park?” you asked and JJ got up to check the windows, first in his own room, then the bathroom and lastly the living room before walking back to you.

   “Take the bathroom. I'll stall him some more,” JJ sighed, and you nodded, but before you could steal yourself away he pulled you into him, kissing you deeply and making your head spin. “Be safe, all right.” 

   “See you in twenty,” you nodded and went to climb out of the bathroom window. 

   JJ wasn't a fan of you rather running away from him than facing the truth, but he couldn't blame you either. If it had been anyone but you, he would've run too. But it wasn't, and he was sure that it could work. He knew he could actually fall for you, more than just the crush he had started to develop. He knew he could be everything you wanted and needed. 

   He wished to just be honest with his friends, even if they wouldn't get it, because not being able to touch you all day long was taking a toll on him. Simply placing his arm over your shoulders wasn't enough. He wanted you in his lap while sharing a blunt, being allowed to play with the strings of your swimsuit, kissing your neck and lips and most of all admiring your body without anyone giving him a side eye for it. 

   When he walked out of his house to meet John B, his best friend groaned. 

   “That was twenty. You know, you don't gotta jerk off every fucking morning, right?” 

   “Fuck off,” JJ grumbled and got into the bus. The heavy weed smell of the bus was drowning out the last bit of your scent that he still had in his nose, and it annoyed him. He wanted you to be his, visible to everyone, and not just in private. 

   “Who crumbled your cookies?” John B huffed while starting the engine. 

   “Just not in the mood today. Let's just go,” JJ said while turning to look out the window. He couldn't really find anything truly enjoyable anymore unless you were with him. You were like a sickness to his brain and heart, one he truly couldn't shake even if he tried to. 

   Your house appeared in front of him, and a smile tugged at his lips. “Maybe this was how soldiers felt when they came back from war and saw their loved ones for the first time in years,” he thought to himself, while John B parked. 

   “I'm gonna go get her,” JJ jumped out of the bus before John B could argue with him over it. He strolled over to your bedroom window, pulling it open and climbing inside without waiting for you to allow him too. He could hear the water running in the shower and made his way to the bathroom. 

   Leaning against the door frame, he watched you, the clear glass door leaving little to the imagination as you fingered yourself under the stream of hot water. He was enthralled by you, how your head fell back as you came, moaning his name, always his. 

   You jumped when you opened the shower door to see him standing there. “Jesus fucking Christ, JJ!” 

   “Do your fingers even reach that high?” he smirked. 

   “High enough,” you stuck out your tongue, and he pulled you closer, grasping your chin and tilting your head back to kiss you. 

   “Got me all fucked up over here. Might need to use those pretty lips again,” JJ whispered against your lips before letting go of you. 

   “Is he waiting outside?” you asked, finally taking a towel and wrapping yourself up to dry. 

   “Yeah, I should go back out asap so he doesn't try to come in here too,” he mumbled. 

   “I need at least five more minutes,” you told him while roughly drying off your hair with an old shirt. 

   “I can fuck you in two,” JJ rasped into your ear, pulling your back flush against his chest, his hands firm on your hips. 

   “That would render my shower useless,” you sighed. 

   “How so?” 

   “I don't want to smell like sex all day long,” you complained softly. 

   “I love when you smell like sex. Literally the best smell in the world. They should make it into perfume,” JJ chuckled and kissed your cheek before stepping away and walking back towards the window. “Five minutes, princess.” 

   The day went smoothly, JJ managed to stay far enough away from you so it wouldn't be questionable, but also not too far, to not raise suspicion that you were fighting again. Both sides of the spectrum weren't to his or your favor. 

   The tricky part came later that night, when Kiara drunkenly proposed a game of Truth or Dare. 

   “Pleaseeeee,” she cried out and put her best puppy face on to convince you to play, but you couldn't resist her, just as much as the rest of your friends could. 

   “Fine. Truth,” you agreed, and she giggled. 

   “Last time you masturbated,” Kie hiccuped. 

   “This morning, in the shower,” you admitted freely. There wasn't much you were embarrassed about, and as long as the questions didn't get too specific, you could even talk about JJ without anyone noticing.

   “Truth or Dare, Pope,” you asked and when he chose dare, you made him shotgun a beer. 

   The game went on for a while. JJ had to talk about his favorite blowjob, and he happily shared the time you sucked him off while he was playing some type of video game while Pope and John B had been oblivious on the other sides of their screens. Maybe you shouldn't have grinned as much over it, after all he had done his best to divert their questions over the girl who'd done it, and you shouldn't ruin it for the both of you. 

   But the lightness was shifting as soon as Kie dared you to kiss JJ. You wanted to opt for a quick peck, nothing to draw any attention, but JJ was JJ. His tongue was chasing your own before you could remember why you really shouldn't be doing this while your friends were watching. 

   “Wow, okay. Maybe next time take it a bit slower, J,” Sarah laughed. 

   “Yeah,” you mumbled, sitting back down and trying to sort your head out. 

   “Who's next?” JJ asked, a proud grin on his face. 

   “Truth or Dare, J,” John B smirked devilishly. 

   “Truth,” JJ nodded. 

   “Who was with you this morning?” 

   “No one,” JJ shrugged, and it was almost believable. 

   “You had a bra lying in your hallway,” John B snorted a laugh. 

   “I haven't cleaned up in a while. Must belong to one of those tinder dates,” JJ shrugged. 

   “That makes no sense. Do you know how expensive bras are?” Kiara spoke up, pulling you into her side. “Tell’m how fucking expensive that shit is, y/n.”

   “Very expensive,” you nodded, avoiding his eyes, in fear anyone of them would draw a connection that you rather kept hidden. 

   “I'm telling you, I was alone. And if she doesn't want her bra back, that's not my fault,” JJ shrugged and kept on with the game, even though the rest of your friends truly weren't convinced. 

   “Do you have any cool scars?” Cleo asked you because you had yet again chosen Truth. After having to kiss JJ, you really didn't want to risk another dare. 

   “No, not really,” you shook your head, but before you could move on JJ spoke up. 

   “Don't you have that one that looks like half a heart, right next to your left tit?” 

   “And how would you know that?” John B raised both eyebrows and JJ knew he fucked up. 

   “Uh… we grew up together. She's had that for ages. Right?” JJ looked at you, pleading for you to say anything, but you just stared at him. “You know what, I'm completely shit-faced, I'm prolly confusing that with, uhm… what's her name,” he snapped his fingers four times, “Polly, from drama club.” 

   “You hooked up with Drama Polly?” Pope snorted. 

   “Yeah,” JJ shrugged his shoulders. He couldn't be a hundred percent sure that he had in the past, but Polly really wasn't ugly or mean, so he probably had at some point. His standards weren't too high when it came to it. 

   You didn't like to think about JJ having sex with other people, you'd never been particularly fond of it, but now it was even worse. When you thought about it, you felt like someone was pulling on every one of your limbs, stretching you to the limit of your capacity. It wasn't even something you thought you could enjoy watching. Maybe if you could be sure that he was still all yours, and didn't actually desire the other person, but you couldn't be sure of it and talking to him would make him think that you were in love with him. Something you didn't want him to think because you didn't know if it was true. 

   “Earth to y/n?” Cleo waved her hand in front of your face, and you snapped out of your thoughts. Clearing your throat and smiling at your friends as if nothing had happened. Just JJ looked at you for a moment longer than needed, concerned where your mind had taken you. 

   “Is it my turn?” you asked sweetly, and they laughed. 

   “You gotta pick someone?” Cleo raised her brow at you and you nodded. 

   “Yes, right, my bad,” you muttered and moved on, leaving the daunting thoughts at the back of your mind to haunt you later. 

   “I dare you to show me the last picture in your camera roll,” Kiara hollered, and JJ shook his head. 

   “Not happening.” 

   “Now we just wanna see it even more,” Sarah pouted, but you didn't pay much mind to it. You knew it was probably the latest dick pic he had intended to send you but chosen not to. 

   “It's nothing I should show anybody. Not my place to,” JJ shrugged and picked up his can, taking a big gulp of beer. 

   “Why?” she leaned forward, and John B had to hold her back so she wouldn't tumble over and land face first in the dirt. 

   “Because it's not appropriate, or of me,” JJ hissed back at her, and you furrowed your brows. You couldn't remember having sent him anything recently. Was he seeing other people? Was that why he was so scared to show them? To show you?

   “You know we can keep a secret,” you tilted your head to the side, jealousy was getting the better of you even though you truly didn't understand why. 

   “I don't think you would want to see it, or want me to show it to anyone,” JJ stared at you, piercing your soul in an unwavering glare. But you were too consumed by the thought that he could have slept, or even just thought about sleeping with, someone who wasn't you. 

   “I think we can take it,” Kie giggled. 

   “Don't say I didn't warn you,” JJ looked at you, almost apologetic, while taking out his phone and handing it over to you. His passcode was still the same as ever, your birthday. Your fingers swiped over the screen and when you saw the picture he had taken, you wanted to throw his phone into the ocean, never to be found again. 

   You felt yourself go crimson at it. The visual of you kissing his balls while your hand was wrapped around his cock. Maybe the only condolences you got was when Kie ripped the phone from your hands and asked who it was. Perhaps, with the slightest chance in the world, they wouldn't be able to tell. Your face was mainly hidden, the only thing that could give you away was the color of your finger nails. A bright neon green. 

   “Seriously, dude? That's from this morning!” John B exclaimed. “You fuckin’ liar. I knew there was someone in there!” You balled your hands, hiding your nails on the inside of your palms, digging crescent shapes into the soft flesh. 

   “Distasteful,” Pope shook his head and handed the phone back to JJ. 

   “How'd you smuggle her out? Through a window? Or did you tell her to wait until we were gone?” John B bludgeoned, and you felt like you wanted to go up in flames. Only Cleo kept her focus on you, and you really didn't like it at all. 

   “Is anyone cold? I feel cold,” you mumbled before getting up and walking inside, not waiting for a reply. 

   “Is it you?” Cleo whispered as soon as she stepped into the bedroom where you had sat down, JJ’s long sleeve shirt pulled over your body in the hopes to find some warmth and tranquility. 

   “Why would it be me?” you smiled at her, but you knew it wasn't convincing. 

   “Your hands, and you've been acting weird all day,” she shrugged, sitting down by your side. 

   “I don't know what you mean.” Lying was easy, but not convincing. Not this time. 

   “I’m not gonna tell them. But maybe you should start being more honest, not just with all of us,” she sighed, putting her arm over your shoulders. “There's nothing unusual about falling in love with your best friend.” 

   “I'm not in love,” you shook your head. 

   “That's okay too.”

   “How do you know you love Pope?” you broke out and she smiled. 

   “He’s smart and funny and kind,” Cleo went on and on about all of Pope's incredible qualities and how she really didn't mean to fall in love with anyone, and yet she hadn't been able to deny it when it did happen. 

   “I'm not sure how you can say that this, all of it, describes your love for him when I've always felt like that towards my friends. Maybe not as strong, but it's the same concept,” you explained. 

   “Have you talked to him about that?” 

   “Not really. We don't talk much about feelings. I don't want to. Why would I destroy perfectly good sex and an amazing friendship with the idea that maybe I could love him more than I already do. I grew up with him, I know every little detail about him. How can I not love him like I love John B or you or Kie or any of them. You're all my friends,” you explained quietly. 

   “Yeah, but you can't picture yourself making out with Pope or John B, right?” she smiled. 

   “That's different, they are both in relationships and not my type,” you argued. 

   “And if JJ was in a relationship?” 

   “I'd miss the sex, but he's still my best friend,” you shrugged. 

   “What if his new partner was against you being his best friend? Not everyone likes the idea of someone so close to their partner that they pose a threat.” 

   “Then I'd tell him to find someone else. Friends are for life. Love rarely lasts,” you were sure of it. Your life had never proposed anything less than it as the truth. First, JJ’s mom ran off, then John B’s; your dad had an affair when you were seven, your mom when you were ten, since then they had stayed together, without any side quests for all you knew, but they were still not happy. 

   “And what if you get both? A best friend who loves you?” Cleo squeezed you a bit before letting loose again. 

   “That seems rare. And what if one falls out of love with the other? Then you lose your friend and your partner,” you explained, and she chuckled. 

   “You should really have a talk with him about this. I'll keep your secret.” Then she got up and left you alone, sitting by yourself and wondering what could be if the world was built with unicorns and rainbows in mind, instead of reality. 

read part 5 here

please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

taglist: @redhead1180 @spideysimpossiblegirl @drwstarkeyy @princessmaybank @ijustwantttoread @kys4-20 @immyowndefender @julczimozart @m2m2m2 @mochimms @dorkyfangirl24

[letmesniffurdaddysfeet]

Weekend Lessons with daddy John PART 1

John, my mysterious neighbor, was a man shrouded in age and secrets. Though I never dared to inquire about his past, I estimated him to be around 65 years old. From the moment I moved in next door, he welcomed me with open arms and a warm smile. Despite our significant age difference - I was only 21 at the time - I found myself eagerly seeking out his company. John was a skilled handyman, passing on his knowledge of electricity, plumbing, and DIY projects to me with infinite patience. It may seem odd for a young adult like myself, but each week I looked forward more to spending an evening with John than going out for after-work drinks with my colleagues.

There was something about John that fascinated me - he wasn't particularly muscular or physically imposing, but there was a ruggedness to him that exuded masculinity. He embodied the classic image of a man's man - simple yet capable, full of practical knowledge that I had never learned before. But what captivated me most were his feet. Every Friday night, as we sat together watching a replay of a baseball game and sipping on cold beers, John would kick off his slippers and rest his large, mature feet on the coffee table in front of us.

It started innocently enough - just admiring the feet of a strong, masculine man. But as the weeks went by, my fascination turned into something else entirely. With each passing Friday night, it became harder and harder for me to resist the forbidden desires stirring inside of me. I tried to push them away, telling myself that it was wrong and dirty to feel this way towards someone much older than me.

But one fateful night, as I lay in bed alone with my thoughts, I gave in to my sinful desires and indulged in a forbidden act of self-pleasure while thinking about John's feet. The pleasure that consumed me was unlike anything I had ever experienced before, a heady mix of taboo and desire that left me both intoxicated and guilty.

From that night on, John's feet became an obsession for me. I couldn't resist stealing glances at them whenever we were together, imagining the feel of them against my lips and tongue. And each time I succumbed to these thoughts, the intensity of pleasure only grew stronger, driving me towards a dangerous edge that I could not escape from.

Despite my attempts to distance myself from these thoughts, they consumed me. I tried to distract myself with work, hobbies, and even dating other people, but nothing seemed to quell the burning desire I had for John's feet.

But one evening, I couldn't resist my insatiable desire… As we sat on the sofa, John's relaxed form radiating a familiar comfort, I chugged back another beer to calm my racing heart. Suddenly, his shoes were off and his toes were wriggling in front of me as he talked about the game. I couldn't help but feign interest in a coin that supposedly fell on the other side of the table. My hand brushed against his foot and I knelt down, pretending to search for the nonexistent coin in the thick carpet fibers as my face stealthily drew closer to his feet. The overpowering scent of masculinity hit me like a wave and my body reacted immediately, my pants stretching with the growing hardness between my legs. Every touch from his toes sent shivers through my body, pushing me deeper into a forbidden pleasure that consumed me completely.

My mind raced with a torrent of emotions and desires as I lingered there, my breath hot against John's coarse, calloused skin. I had never felt anything like this before - a mixture of exhilaration, shame, and unbridled lust coursing through my veins. I knew I was playing with fire, but I couldn't help myself.

A surge of shame and self-loathing washes over me as I realize the gravity of my actions. I pray that my arousal is not too obvious , ready to feign ignorance and confess to not finding the coin. But when I meet John's gaze, a new expression crosses his face - an excited smile, his hand resting on his visibly erect penis. Did he understand the true intention behind my gesture? And did the sight of my face so close to his feet elicit the same response in him as it did in me? My mind spins with confusion and desire, rendering me speechless and creating a tense silence that begs to be broken… I struggle to find the right words, while secretly yearning to ask him if he desires to see me throw myself at his feet as well…

It was finally John who broke the silence, saying these words: ''Are you sure you looked carefully? It would be a shame not to reject a glance." He looked me straight in the eyes, without leaving his mischievous smile, wiggling his toes… my eyes rested on those feet and the spark of excitement in the John's eyes twinkled brighter. It was at that moment that I realized that this was a formal invitation, and I was not going to wait another second to respond.

John's voice cut through the tense silence like a knife, his words dripping with challenge and mischievous thrill ''Did you even bother to look closely? Don't tell me you missed it." His gaze locked onto mine, a sly grin playing on his lips as he wiggled his toes in anticipation…my eyes couldn't help but trail down to those feet, and I saw the unmistakable glimmer of mischief in John's eyes. It hit me like a bolt of lightning - this wasn't just an invitation, it was a dare. And I refused to waste another second before responding, the fire of adrenaline coursing through my veins.

[willyoubemycherryy]

𝙼𝚛. & 𝙼𝚛𝚜. 𝙴𝚐𝚊𝚗_ _ _𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗?_𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐..___. . . .

S͟E͟T͟ A͟N͟Y͟T͟I͟M͟E͟ B͟E͟F͟O͟R͟E͟ E͟P͟I͟S͟O͟D͟E͟ 5

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚌𝚛𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝, 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚙 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚞𝚝, 𝚘𝚍𝚍𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚝𝚜𝚍, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝙰𝚁𝙴 𝚒𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑, 𝚠𝚊𝚛 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚊 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝙹𝚘𝚑𝚗 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚐

@missusnora @eleanorbaybars

_ - _ - _- __-_ __—_

“just give me a reason, just a little bit’s enough. just a second; we’re not broken just bent and we can learn to love again…”

You never thought you’d see yourselves like this.

“NO! NO MORE DODGING THIS! WHERE ARE YOU RIGHT NOW?!”

It should have never come to this.

“I’M RIGHT HERE IF YOU WOULD JUST LOOK AT ME! DAMNNIT WOMAN!”

But…it had to happen. The tension so tight, it finally snapped.

“You’re not because I AM looking at you, and I can see that you’re here but you aren’t here with me! You haven’t been for weeks!”

It was a normal day. He had a rare day off and you two were together so everything was supposed to be perfect. Only…it wasn’t. For weeks, everytime you spoke, everytime you were able to be together, even when you would glimpse him; he’d be so close but so far.

You knew he was hurting.

Over the lost boys, over Curt, over the despondence that the higher ups seemed to have with him, over his own internal griefs, struggles, and hopes. But with all his hurt…came a distance.

Acting like everything was okay. He’d be there in the moment but he didn’t live in it like he used to. He didn’t talk about it so you wouldn’t bring it up. Most times, he was so far it felt like it wasn’t even listening to you.

Now, there’s a gap where your bond was. And it keeps getting bigger and bigger with everything you don’t say to each other.

Today was the last straw.

Talking to him and seeing that distance in his eyes while he stayed silent…

“Do you even still love me?!”

Hot tears run down your face as you stand in the living room barefoot. Looking up at him, your greatest love and hardest pain.

At first it was just anger, throwing the heels on your feet at him in the beginning, the screaming, frustration. But at this point? You were just tired and hurt of having to miss someone who’s right there.

“…What?” The question comes out hushed. John looking down at you in crestfallen disbelief, glassy blue eyes and furrowed brows.

You don’t think he loves you anymore?

“You think I don’t love you? Doll,” panic and desperation seep into him and it shows. Looking and sounding so pained that you can’t bear to look at him anymore. Teardrops stream from your face and hit the floor as you drop your head.

“You’re with me. I have you. But why do I still feel alone if I have you?” Your voice is shaking so bad but this needs to come out.

“It’s like I lost you to the war already with how hollow you’ve become. You won’t let me in. When I talk, it’s like you can’t hear me. You won’t let me comfort you. You won’t even reach out to Gale. Just retreating back into your thoughts that can’t possibly care for you the way I do…it’s like my John left and I’m stuck with his ghost.” The wave of held back emotions drown you and you wail, unbidden sobs wracking your body before John gently takes your face into his big, warm hands.

The familiarity of his touch makes your heart ache. You don’t even notice immediately that he was crying too. His silent tears cutting you to pieces.

John cries because it’s true. He has been in a weird place lately and he can’t seem to find his way out. He’s not good at not being the leader so he doesn’t know how to let others step in to help him when he needs it. So, he drowns himself in his thoughts, doubts, and regrets. Lets the distance he’s created hurt him some more. Because, he’s used to hurt. Until…it starts to hurt more than usual.

Until it ends up hurting you.

Nothing is allowed to hurt you. You’re one of the reasons he serves.

Bucky has seen so many things that can hurt you. He should have never let one of them be him.

“I’m so sorry bunny”. Bucky can’t take you crying. Your little hiccuping sobs are killing him. Closeness. Closeness, is what you both need right now. So, he doesn’t even bother with formalities before lifting you up into him. Wrapping your legs around his waist and tucking your head into his neck. He rests his cheek against the top of your head, wraps his big arm around you as he holds you, cries with you, and apologizes.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I’m an ass. You’re right. I haven’t been here and none of that is your fault. But it is my fault for letting you feel this way. For making you feel like I don’t love you, when I do. I love you more than sleeping in, I love you more than winning, I love you more than every life I lived before.” The soft, low timbre of his voice makes you warm, like a soothing balm listening to him finally come back to you.

“You’re not alone because you do have me and I’m not alone because I have you. If I’m not anywhere else, the one place I’ll always be is in your heart. I’ll try harder to open up so we can be even closer. Nothing could ever compare to come close to your affection so don’t ever stop trying to reach me, okay? Even when the line is connected, stay on it, okay?” This is the most he’s bared himself to you and you bury yourself into him more.

“…okay..I love you too, Bucky.” Barely a whisper but he hears you. Pressing kisses all over the top of your head until you lift it to look into his eyes.

Time seems slower as you gravitate towards each other, eyes slipping closed when your lips meet in a tender kiss.

You missed him so much.

It’s perfect. The way your lips fit together, pushing before colliding back to one another. Breathing in the softness of your mouth, Bucky deepens the kiss. Holding the back of your head, you completely melt into him as light, wet sounds accompanied by picked up breaths; fill you and the atmosphere with pure warmth.

Bucky struggles to pull away first because he knows how he’ll get. He’s aching to make you feel better in any way he can but now really is not the time to let comfort to give way to passion.

“I missed you, bunny”. He presses his forehead to yours but the lovely way he speaks to you makes you blush. Suddenly feeling. . . shy.

“I missed you too”, voice as soft as you feel. Bucky readjusts you in his arms before heading towards the stairs.

“Well, let’s fix that. So we won’t have to miss each other when we’re together”.

“John Clarence Egan- !”

If he thinks he’s gonna cuddle and sweet talk his way into your panties after that fight, he’s dead right. (not standing on business at ALL)

“I meant; we could talk, bunny. Y’know, really catch up. Just want you with me, on everything this time.”

Oh.

Okay.

He means you two can bond.

The thought of that kind of intimacy in conversation; and with him, makes you love giddy as you practically purr in agreement, nodding your head.

Kissing the top of your head, Bucky carries you up to your shared bedroom. Happy that you two are going to be okay and that you’re staying with him; because with you is where his heart belongs.

Safe, with you.

[shall-we-die]

╔‌‌‌‌•°🖇༄•°══════════•⊰•°༄༚

{Naughty}

How would they punish their darling?

╞•⊰❖⊱•═══•༻🗝༺•═══•⊰❖⊱•╡

↬[Fandom]•⊰ {Moriarty the patriot}࿐

↬[Warnings]•⊰ {Yandere behaviors}࿐

☰[Main list]•⊰ ────┈┈{0089}┈─╮

╭──────┈┈┈┈┈───────╯

╰┈➤Likes/Reblogs are appreciated࿐

╚•°🖇༄•°══════════•⊰•°༄༚‌‌‌

↬|William|

William would use various methods to punish his s/o. He would use psychological tactics such as gaslighting, guilt tripping, and emotional manipulation to make his s/o feel guilty or worthless. He would also impose strict rules and limitations on his s/o, like controlling where they can go or who they can interact with. He would also use physical violence like grabbing, throwing, or even hitting them, not severe enough to cause serious harm but enough to scare them...

┣━━━━━━━━━━━━━┅┅┅┄┄

↬|Albert|

He definitely isn't one to go overboard with punishment. As it pains him to see his S/O unhappy and all, he'll most likely just give them the silent treatment for a couple of hours or just ignore them for a bit, as well as not letting them touch him for that time. As he knows that they're weak, he'll never physically harm them or anything the sort.

┣━━━━━━━━━━━━━┅┅┅┄┄

↬|Louis|

Not in any way that would actually hurt them, he’d never ever try and hurt you in any way. He’d only try to punish you through deprivation, like not allowing you to be with his family/friends, refusing to allow you to see others. He’d probably also keep you in his room for a while, wanting you to be isolated in his room with just him and no one else.

┣━━━━━━━━━━━━━┅┅┅┄┄

↬|Sebastian|

It depends on the circumstances. If it's something like his S/O getting too close to or acting in more than just a friendly way towards someone else, then he might start being more controlling and even physical. He would be more dominant towards them and would not let them out of his sight for a while. On the other hand, if it's something more serious and if they've been ignoring him or are acting in a way that seems very distant and unfriendly, he might be more angry and harsh, giving them a punishment that's more painful.

┣━━━━━━━━━━━━━┅┅┅┄┄

↬|Sherlock|

Sherlock's idea of punishment for his S/O would likely be severe and extreme. Some possible forms of punishment he might use include, Physical punishment, like spanking or other forms of corporal punishment. Emotional manipulation, like gaslighting or making his S/O feel guilty and unworthy. Isolation, like keeping his S/O locked away in a room or cutting off contact with others. Control and manipulation of their daily life, like setting strict rules and limits on what they can do.

┣━━━━━━━━━━━━━┅┅┅┄┄

↬|John|

He might use withholding affection as a form of punishment. He might also use shaming or manipulative tactics to make his significant other feel guilty or ashamed for their actions. He may isolate his partner from friends and family or use emotional manipulation to make his partner feel dependent on him.  In extreme cases, he may even use physical violence or threats to enforce his control over his significant other.

||[🄽aughty]||

━●━━━━━━────────

     ⇆ㅤㅤ◁🄼ㅤㅤ❚❚ㅤㅤ🄾▷ㅤㅤ↻

[a-small-safe-place]

She Likes a Boy, and I’m not a Boy.

Queen Maeve x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your girlfriend joins the new superhero team, The Seven, and breaks up with you. This is loosely based on the unreleased song by Nxdia on TikTok. Literally just the “she likes a boy, I’m not a boy” part because a lot of sapphic people can relate to that line.

Margaret knew you were proud of her when she joined The Seven. You were proud of her for anything she did as “Queen Maeve,” but not in the same way her dad would be proud. You weren’t proud of her because it would bring you money or fame; you were proud of her because she was doing good in the world. You didn’t mind keeping your relationship quiet either. You understood that it could lead to more problems for you and definitely more problems for Queen Maeve if the masses found out that her secret identity was dating a woman, even when she was still a small-time hero.

She was fine keeping you a secret when she first joined The Seven, even once she and Homelander started their showmance. Margaret still would sneak around to see you. She would reassure you that it’s just for the cameras and that this was for the best for you two. That’s what Maeve thought, until Homelander made a move on her away from the cameras. She struggled to find the words to tell him no because she had been warned of the damage he could do when he got mad.

Homelander frowned, "No? Why not? You’re single, I’m single. We are both superheroes with super strength, so we don’t have to worry about hurting each other," he argued. Maeve noticed the way his eyes flickered with a strange emotion when he brought up hurting each other. Maeve wondered who exactly he had hurt in the past to warrant that reaction. The thought quickly left her head; she didn’t care about that right now.

"I’m just not looking for a relationship. I like my privacy," Maeve countered. Homelander scoffed as if the notion of privacy was ridiculous.

"Come on, the minute you became Queen Maeve, you lost your right to privacy. You know that as well as I do. I mean, come on, my secret identity, 'John,' only fooled people for a week. It’s going to be no time before they see 'Margaret' for who she really is," Homelander made it seem as if she had no choice.

Maeve finally agreed to "date" him, but she still wanted to keep seeing you, trying her best to keep you away from Homelander. She hated herself for having to do this, but she didn’t want to lose you. That is until she saw the damage Homelander could do if he was jealous enough. At a Vought party, a bartender had been flirting with Maeve. She knew the guy was trying to get tips, but she didn’t know Homelander was able to hear the man flirting, and Maeve laughed at a few of his cheesy jokes because they reminded her of something you would say. The day after, Homelander was being far clingier, and then the day after that, the bartender was found dead in his apartment, completely disemboweled. Homelander told her he did it. He said he was jealous because she’s never laughed with him in the same way she laughed with that bartender.

"I know you wouldn’t try to leave me, but the thought of you laughing with that bartender pissed me off," Homelander’s words felt like a threat. Maeve doesn’t sleep that night. She lays awake knowing that she has to break up with you or watch you be strung up by your intestines.

A week passes. Queen Maeve doesn’t contact you in any way. She can’t, not with Homelander being so clingy. Finally, she is able to slip away while he goes somewhere to help Black Noir. She arrives at your apartment.

Maeve knocks.

Before all this, she would just walk in and make herself at home. You open the door. "Margaret? I’ve been worried sick! You haven’t answered any of my texts or calls! I haven’t seen you in over a week," you scold her.

"We need to talk," she says with a plain face and a monotone voice. Maeve feels lucky she has had to master acting during her time as a hero. You let her in and shut the door. She takes a small survey of your space; she knows she won’t be in it again. Maeve wants to remember what she can.

"Is something wrong?" You ask; there’s a hint of sadness in your voice. You know what’s coming. Maeve turns around with a disgusted grimace painted on her face.

"I’ve been cheating on you," is all she says. It’s painful to admit; she wishes she could tell you she didn’t have a choice and that she’s doing this to keep you safe, but she doubles down. "With Homelander. Since our showmance started."

"Why, Maeve?" You ask, and Maeve’s acting fails her for a moment; she frowns. You always called her Margaret before and not Maeve. She responds with the first thing that comes to mind. "He’s a man. You’re not. You didn’t think I would actually stay with a woman? Our relationship wasn’t even real. We never went on public dates. You were never my long-term plan. Forget this relationship ever happened. You’re nothing to me." Maeve leaves without another word. She slams the door. She flinches, knowing you hate that.

Maeve goes home to drink. Homelander repeatedly asks her what’s wrong, but she just responds with "nothing, just having a drink." Eventually, he goes to his own room, leaving Maeve alone in her Vought-provided room. Maeve wants to cry, but she knows he is listening to her, so she continues drowning her sorrows.

Years pass. Queen Maeve is inescapable for you. She’s everywhere. You finally move on from your relationship with Margaret, choosing to tell people that your ex had died. After all, Margaret was dead; she was just replaced by Queen Maeve.

You feel a bittersweet feeling when you see Homelander and Maeve broke up because he was sleeping around. You felt a little bad for her. Getting cheated on sucked. You moved through your life unbothered. That is until she was outed by Homelander as a "lesbian," and then he name-dropped you as her girlfriend. For a moment, Maeve was visibly shocked, but her face quickly reverted to a painfully fake smile. He said your first and last name. You realized that you had also been outed to anyone in your life that would put two and two together.

The next couple of days your phone rang and rang and rang. Family members calling you. Friends calling you. Co-workers. Random numbers. They all wanted the same thing. The hot gossip on your relationship with Maeve. You got a few nasty emails and direct messages on social media from anonymous accounts that were telling you that you and Queen Maeve would rot in hell for your sins, and a few threats from people that were convinced you corrupted Maeve. You had to take some personal time from work. Maeve eventually showed up at your apartment.

"We need to talk." The last time she said those words to you, she practically tore your heart out of your chest. This time she didn’t wait for you to let her in; she just pushed past you. Just like the last time, she takes in your apartment. You had gotten quite a few upgrades for the apartment.

"Are you here because of the talk show from the other day?" You ask; if you weren’t irritated by the situation, your voice would likely sound sad. "Yes," is all Maeve says. So she’s not really here for you. She’s not here to apologize.

"Well, you can feel free to leave; I’m not a boy, remember?" The words are bitter when they fall from your mouth. You’re not thinking when you say it. "I don’t want you to hate me anymore. I wanted to be with you. I did, but if I stayed, I would have put you in danger."

Of course, she’s deflecting. "So you cheated for my own good? That sounds so stupid," you scoff.

Maeve becomes very serious. "Being a hero isn’t what you think. It’s not about actually helping people. It’s about being a product that can be sold and palatable for the masses." After she says this, you take a seat and wait for her to continue. "Most of the heroes are narcissistic assholes that have no business having powers. They’re dangerous, and Homelander is the most dangerous."

"Homelander? Seriously? He’s like Jesus or something?" It’s hard to believe the top hero is a monster.

"Please, believe me," she begs. Maeve begins to explain what happened with the bartender right before she broke up with you. Maeve explains everything that she can without possibly endangering you.

"Maeve, I had no idea," you tell her. "I know what I said and did all those years ago was unforgivable, but I didn’t want to risk you trying to come and find me again," she says, sitting next to you.

Your curiosity gets the better of you, "How did he find out about us?" Maeve’s brow furrows. "I’m not sure. Maybe Vought knew and had a file on you or something, and he found it, but he knows. I don’t expect you to trust me right away, but getting you in the public eye is going to be the best way to keep you safe. If the public loves you, it will look suspicious if you suddenly disappear or die. He won’t touch you right now, but this is a short-term solution." You don’t respond.

"Vought’s marketing team wants to meet you tomorrow. A car will come pick you up at 3:00 tomorrow," Maeve leaves.

[lilithmymind]

Fuck the people who say what 'Lego and Telltale are the only acceptable Batjokes!!1!1'...Have you fucking played telltale or is this acceptable because John is sucha sweetheart and he and Bruce are friends? Okay, let's start it.

John is highly unsettling individual. All his life he spent in Asylum and learned how to pretend and manipulate people so they won't suspect anything and will just think what John is a kind and good boy who just doesn't know what he is doing most of time. John literally runs around the Arkham fearing it's patients and making doctor and stuff like him and get him out quickly. He can make a riot by just one thing because he understands what triggers people so he can calmly use it for his own purposes. John is very good at pretending sweet and silly, he may be really sweet guy for someone who is close to him(Bruce, Harley, Dr.Leland) but the same people will see eventually after sweet act how John will do some violent shit. John understands what's going on from the start, he knew what Bruce uses him, he probably knew what The Pact uses him, but he keeps close to them since the world out of Arkham is still new to him so he still needs to understand how to mimicry and be a part of the crowd. John have literally no emphaty towards others so he can calmly kill, he probably is psychopath(Feels a lot of joy watching people suffer) or sociopath(Can't really feel emotions and also can't even blush). Depending on the route we still can see all of those. Vigilante!Joker's understanding of justice is as well unsettling since he literally kill people and this don't really have to be a criminal it can be just the person he didn't like or who make him feel uncomfortable. And I have much more to talk about Villain!Joker route. During this we see shattered and broken John who hid himself under the villain since he doesn't want to let people use him anymore, but on the other side the villain is who John really are. During the fake date John shares what he doesn't know who he is and inside he feels darkness and a monster who is trying to reach out. It's obviously hinting what John knows about how dangerous he can be so he keeps it under control, locked away from everyone so he won't hurt people around, but he never feels any regrets for letting it out. No matter how much John can be under the influence, he always done whatever he wants since the first appearance. He created riots, promised Bruce what he will get him laptop and than gives it to his Batman persona, than played a good boy for Harley acting like hee knows nothing and helping Bruce and than betrayed the Pact for the sake of Bruce. Vigilante!Joker started killing, Villain!John started helping. By the time of the Villain route Joker literally helps the whole city without Harley's knowing and than stops her several times from killing Bruce just to leave her alone by the end. Also If in the final fight we dies Vigilante!Joker seemed to be really happy and he laughs and smiles, while Villain!Joker feels happy at the start but his smile quickly fades like he never wanted this to happen. During Vigilante route John let himself rule, during villain route John let his feelings rule, but by the end of the day John is still smart, manipulative and good-pretending at being sweet. I know John is a sweet and confused guy but he isn't innocent, never was and never will.

Now let's talk about his and Bruce's relationship especially. John is kinda abusive towards Bruce(giving mixed messages is an emotional abuse). Bruce asks John If he likes him and John rejects Bruce but literally two minutes later, in the car, If Bruce tells John what Harley is right and he have a crush on him, John accepts it. Afterwards they act like nothing happens between them all the time, John just acceptes and dismisses all Bruce's affection(If you do it in your route, ofc) and Bruce being left confused. He tries to stay by John's side, keep following him and helping him, but at one moment he gets affection and acceptance right after that he has to see how John dismisses him and goes after Harley instead. John holding Bruce on the short leash:short enough for Bruce staying close to him, but long enough for pulling away from Bruce. People can say: 'But John just confused between his feelings for Harley and for Bruce!' And I'll say: 'But that doesn't justifies his actions!' It explains why he does that, it makes us understand better why he does that, but that doesn't mean we should justifie it. On the moment John killing agents we can choice not only If Bruce values their friendship and loves him enough to forgive that, but also If Bruce is already stucked with his abuser. In the villain route it just feels not like Bruce just can't accept murderer, but like he wants to go out of this situation and maybe help John so everything will be better. Also I love both routes because there we sees all of the John from different sides,Villain is a monster who is highly confused in himself and If he is actually can be capable of good, meanwhile in Vigilante route we see a very confused guy who did something bad thinking he is doing something good. Also I can understand people who would in the end of the game say what they don't think of John as a friend. From the POV of Bruce it's like finally getting out of abusive relationships, it will leave trauma in him and John will return in his life for revenge, but Bruce doesn't know it so for him it surely will be better.

Telltale Batjokes isn't something goofy and sweet like Lego, it's drama, confusion and pain hidden under the sweetness.

[secretpostsposts]

I'm going to call this Sibling Change

To avoid confusion, I'm going to call the adult version of the brothers John Dory, Bruce (they are the ones whose name can best be changed), Adult Clay, Adult Floyd and Branch, the young versions JD, Spruce, Young Clay, Young Floyd and Bitty B; unless it's Branch talking to the younger versions and he used the correct names (I imagine calling Spruce Bruce a mistake sometimes)

But more or less this is what I have in mind:

The adult siblings are very "emotional" as they see BittyB and have many feelings of guilt or regret because, their brother could have remained a sweet and gentle baby, but they ruined him, especially John Dory, I imagine that at some point he didn't. He endures it and only carries Bitty B and hugs him as if fearing that he would disappear into thin air and cries and asks, no, begs him to forgive him (taking into account that it was 20 years, I say John Dory seems to have traveled a lot, at some point). point returned to the Trolls Tree, so he could, for a while, believe that Branch was... Dead; I'm an older sister and I may not get along with my brother, the mere idea of losing him like that or having that idea, kills me inside, so John Doy may have that trauma, so not only does he apologize to Bitty B, he wants to believe that if he takes care of this version of his brother he will fix something about his now adult brother that he lives with) so I see a lot of part of the adult siblings these scenarios of regret and helplessness because they have this baby Branch in their hands and they know what to do but they feel bad, because he is their brother, but not their brother at the same time, they feel that they are trying to "replace" him in some way. shape.

While with the Band (I will refer to them that way since they are still a band and act more like brothers according to me) they are "floating" in the situation they feel unreal, they have their little brother, who is a baby, he wears a diaper !, and out of nowhere this adult Trolls Branch appears who claims to be Bitty B but in 20 years in the future and is so drastically different from his little brother, they understand that their little brother will change as he grows, but there is something wrong with this Branch, he doesn't seem to know how to deal with them, mistakes Spruce for "Bruce" and doesn't find Clat funny, and. Bitty B loves Clay's jokes, he seems nervous, and seems ready to have a heart attack every time he mentions or sees a Bergen too close to the tree, he also makes faces every time JD says something about the band or Harmony. Perfect Family; and not to mention Grandma, they just don't know what to do with this Branch, they know he's their brother but it's like having a perfect stranger in the house and their colors are so dull that they're starting to get sick with worry, and Branch is starting to ( I don't know if it's stealing or undermining) he will take JD's authority over the Band (brothers), he doesn't even let Grandma be in charge, he takes charge and it's strange.

This is more like a base of what the brothers' relationship will be like in these situations, a fanfic will be made, someone asked about it in the previous post, and Tumblr won't let me respond to the comments, so if anyone has something to say , the question box is open