#John thought maybe he had been under the mind control

[pixiemunsons]

baby, baby, baby (sh)

steve's always discovering new things about himself, usually with your help

breeding kink!!! i can't state enough if this isn't ur thing click off because that's all it is. unprotected sex, p in v (f! reader), fingering, discussion of babies and breeding, hint of jancy, rough-ish sex, bit of misogyny surrounding birth control (reader goes on the pill.) one use of the word daddy during sex but not rly daddy kink. no use of y/n, no spoilers, no reader description. steve’s into cringy pet names i don’t make the rules (2.2k words)

a/n; a really lovely reader made it clear to me that some of my language wasn’t POC or plus size friendly. this absolutely wasn’t my intention and i’ve edited this language out to ensure that this is a fic for anyone, as intended. pls let me know if i do make any mistakes like this - being exclusive is absolutely not something i ever intend to be. thank you angels<3

it had started growing in him one day, and he hadn’t felt the end of it since.

a sort of weird, deep urge he felt in his bones, gnawing at him from the inside out and churning his brain and boiling his guts. if he hadn’t known better, he might have called it animalistic. neanderthal. his most base instinct. for months, he hadn’t been able to think about anything else. twisting his mind and driving him crazy.

steve harrington wanted to fuck you full of his babies.

you hadn’t even known you were doing it. how could you? you knew he wanted kids, and a lot of them, but it felt miles off in your mind. when he told you about you and the six kiddos and the camper van, you thought he meant five, maybe even ten years off. so you’d thought nothing of it when your friend liz had asked to come over for a coffee with her almost brand-new baby and you’d spent the afternoon playing with her in front of steve. 

he’d seemed a bit more tense than usual, and you thought maybe he was uncomfortable around the baby. you knew he had a relatively small, relatively disconnected family, and the last kid born was more than ten years ago, so he’d never really even been around infants. he seemed to be watching intently as you picked her up, smoothing her tufts of hair back and nuzzling your nose into her hair to absorb her uniquely baby smell. you’d never brought it up though, never thinking much of it. until it started happening more.

you’d see a toddler sticking their tongue out at the grocery store and stick yours back before steve would half drag you away by the arm. you’d mention your hairdresser’s imminent due date, and he’d find a way to change the topic. hell, you’d cooed over the baby in look who’s talking one time and he’d switched the channels, claiming he hated john travolta even though you’d watched saturday night fever with him at least four times. you were starting to get confused. the two of you had talked about kids; why was it becoming such a problem now?

───

‘i got on the pill, y’don’t have to bother with a condom.’

steve stopped stock still. in seven years, he’d never been able to go without. shitty blue state indiana had made contraception for unmarried women a fucking nightmare, and while he really wanted to marry you eventually, he wasn’t about to do it just so he could go raw. steve’d half-hoped he wouldn’t be able to until you were married; he didn’t know what he was capable of if you let him do that to you. but you’d sprung it on him. while you were naked under him and he was halfway to the bedside table, you’d laid a small hand on his arm and looked up at him with that expression on your face he loved so much and stuck out your bottom lip. he’d never said no to you before. how could he ever start now?

‘a-are you sure? y’know i don’t mind, sweetness, i’m happy to wear one.’ he was frowning now, deep lines etching the ordinarily soft skin of his forehead, and you reached a hand up to smooth out the creases.

‘kinda thought you’d be a bit more excited than this, honey.’ you were half-smiling, half-worried, head tilted as you observed steve. you’d known him for fifteen years, been dating him almost half as long. knew him like the back of your hand, knew when he was worried about something, when something was playing on his mind and he just couldn’t shrug it off. he shook his head vehemently, stroking your face with a shaky hand.

’s’not that, babe. i’m really excited, like, really excited. didn’t think we’d be able to do this until- well…’ he trailed off, leaning down to kiss your bare shoulder in a feeble attempt to hide his reddening face from your eyesight.

you sat up a little then, peering down at him. the pill wasn’t even something you’d thought much of until nancy had told you all about it, hush hush over a coffee.

‘it’s changed my life, honestly. everything’s more… regular, and well, you know…’ you’d raised your eyebrows at her to hasten her explanation and she’d blushed bright red and hidden behind her hair when she whispered ‘jonathan loves being able to, like… y’know, do it inside. everything’s so much better in the bedroom.’ 

you’d left your lunch date hot under the collar, and almost sprinted straight to your family doctor. the idea of being so intimate, so close to steve for the first time ever without having to worry about the consequences excited you.

‘until what, stevie? we can carry on using a condom if you w-‘ steve’s eyes shot open, shaking his head wildly until his hair bounced.

‘no! no, i just.’ he cleared his throat, itching the back of his neck nervously.

‘i’m worried if we do it without, i won’t be able to hold back. the idea of doing that to you, of cumming inside you… it makes me so hard i can’t think.’

his confession left your mouth open and mind whirring, thinking back to the last few months and the way he’d been acting around you and babies and all of a sudden, everything clicked.

‘stevie,’ you cooed, smirking at the expression on his face. ‘you wanna get me pregnant, don’t you?’

a guttural groan broke free from his throat and he lunged forward like a man possessed, capturing your lips with a ferocious heat that had you moaning into his mouth. large, rough hands gripped your stomach, your hips, and squeezed so tight you groaned. steve took his chance, tongue surging into your mouth and licking the top of your mouth, the back of your teeth. he pushed himself up so he was kneeling above you, manhandling you up so you were facing him, knees touching.

‘y’can’t say that to me, baby,’ he looked frantic, still kissing you between words. ‘god, you’re so… so fuckin’… h christ, can’t believe you said that.’ your mind was reeling, all consumed with the idea of it. 

‘i’d be lying if i said the thought of trying for a baby with you wasn’t on my mind recently, stevie.’ you looked up at him, eyelashes fluttering, and his fingers dug into your flesh so hard you were sure there’d be bruises the next morning. ‘when liz came over with the baby, y’have no idea how much i wished she was ours.’

steve was totally fucked.

he couldn’t get his breathing under control listening to talking about carrying his babies, and his head was swimming in pictures; you, lying on the beach in a bikini with a cute bump. lying on your front cautiously while steve rubbed your tired back muscles. tying your shoes for you ‘cuz you couldn’t reach over your swollen tummy. most of all though, he couldn’t stop imagining the sight of his cum seeping out from your pretty little pussy, your hips propped up on a pillow, hoping it’d take.

‘think we should?’ he spoke before he could even think about it, and he almost apologised. almost. because when he looked down at your face, instead of seeing shock or disgust, you were fucking smirking up at him. a manicured nail traced its way up through his chest hair, the other hand gripping the back of his neck, and steve felt lightheaded.

‘you gotta be off the pill at least a week before it stops working, you know.’ you cocked your head to the side. ‘doesn’t mean we can’t start practising though.’

steve helped you onto your knees so you were face down, ass up. his favourite, especially when he wanted to go a bit harder, a bit rougher, and the anticipation sent shivers down your spine. behind you, the bed shifted, and the distinctive sound of elastic cracking skin rang out from behind you as steve shed his boxers, the final (and only) barrier left between the two of you.

‘you want me to lube up, baby? i’d ask you to do it with your mouth, but i think i’d bust.’ you laughed together and he grabbed your left hand, intertwining your fingers. no matter what, steve never made you doubt how much he loved you, and small moments of intimacy like this always made you wanna cry every time.

‘just a bit, babe, ‘m ready for you,’ you whined your hips back into him, ass brushing his hairy thighs, and he groaned at the trail of slick you left against his hot skin. reaching into the drawer and, for the first time, straight past the open box of johnnies, steve grabbed the half-empty bottle of lube that lived there. you could hear him squirting it into his hand, slathering it all over his thick cock, all the while muttering away almost mindlessly.

‘you’re gonna be such a good mommy, honey, s’ good for me and our baby. so full of our children, so beautiful and round for me, gonna look after you. gonna be the most gorgeous little family, sweetness.’ he reached down, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

‘baby, i really need to just fuck you full,’ he whispered, and you looked over your shoulder at him. there was an almost feral gleam in his eyes, and you swallowed thickly. he pushed two long fingers into you, whining when he found you were already soaking wet and more than ready to take him. you keened your hips back again, pleading, pretty eyelashes fluttering.

‘take me, steve.’

he was up to the base by the time you’d taken a breath, heavy balls resting at the curve of your thighs and ass, and the sensation was like nothing either of you had known before. you could feel every ridge, every vein pumping through his cock, and he felt so warm in you it could have almost been too much. steve had never felt anything so hot, so tight, so unbelievably natural in his whole life, and he had to stop still as soon as he was balls deep lest he cum in seconds. 

‘oh fuck,’ he was groaning behind you, legs trapping the bottom half of your body to the bed in an attempt to stop you squirming. ‘this is- jesus christ, this is something else, baby.’ under him, you were desperately trying not to rock your hips back into steve’s. he was so heavy and hard inside you, twitching and leaking precum already and he hadn’t even moved, hadn’t even started to fill you up.

steve’s hips pulled back slowly, leaving just the head still wrapped in you, before plunging back in and starting up a brutal pace. his hands were gripping at your pelvis and your head was buried in the pillow at the head of your bed, fingers reaching behind you to intertwine with his own against the fat of your hips. he thrust particularly hard into one spot that had your mind reeling, almost screaming his name into the pillow and pulling forward from the pleasure of it all. steve chased you, the front of his thighs almost stuck to the back of yours with sweat. by now, he was barely even pulling out, just chasing his own thrusts deep within you as he panted above you, sloppy kisses pressed into the skin at the back of your neck. skilled fingers reached around to your clit, rubbing it in that way only steve ever managed to do it, and your legs felt like jelly under you. if it wasn’t for the way he pressed right up against your hips, you’d be on your front by now, crushed under his weight into the bed.

‘’m really, really close, baby, fuck. c’mon sweetness,’ he was rambling behind you, hips working even quicker to turn you to goo under him, melted into the mattress and taking what he gave you. you could feel it building deep in your stomach, and you just needed something else, something to push you over the edge-

‘cum for me, let’s make me a daddy,’ steve was crying out and you were cumming, thighs clenching and back arching, screams buried into the pillow and teeth clenched so hard your jaw popped. steve wasn’t long behind you; the way you gushed when you came, the vice-like grip on his leaking cock? it was all too much, and for the first time, steve harrington came inside the love of his life, hot and gasping and flashes of you with a baby bump running through his mind. carefully, gently, he pulled out, cock softening against his thigh and then growing half hard again. your pussy was swollen, his cum leaking out of your hole. unthinking, steve reached up to push it back in with two fingers, rubbing your ass with the other hand when you flinched away from the stimulation.

‘sorry, baby, just gotta make sure it takes.’

you rolled onto your back, and he couldn’t help but smile at the way you rolled your eyes at him.

‘told you stevie, gonna be at least a week until i’m all fertile and shit again.’

he flopped on top of you, grinning.

‘i guess we’re gonna have to practise over,’ a kiss to your cheek.

‘and over.’ your shoulder.

‘and over.’ your nose.

‘and over again.’ finally, your lips. ‘i love you.’

[thekeystothebasement]

Awesome that you’re taking price requests cause we definitely need more of those!!! Thank you for your service and writing!!

Request:

You’re drunk and your friends dare you to introduce yourself to captain price at a bar. You actually have a nice conversation end up dating and he shows you off and then he breeds you

Haha idk how that escalated quickly but yasss

A/n: I'm so sorry this took so long to post! I've been facing some writer's block, nothing I've been writing has been sounding good 😫

So I apologize if this doesn't meet your expectations! 🧎‍♀️

---

"Your beard looks amazing, it would look even better wet between my legs."

Maybe playing truth or dare with your best friend while alcohol was running through your veins wasn't such a good idea.

Your body went rigid in shock at the words leaving your mouth.

You didn't even greet the man.

You didn't say hello

You didn't ask for his name before the horny thoughts that were clouding your mind all night escaped at the first chance.

Drunk and horny wasn't a good combination.

"What the hell happened to buying someone dinner first?" Price chuckled before taking another sip of whiskey and glancing at you.

"I Ummm..." your train of thought had stopped as you looked into his amused eyes, and a small grin lingered on his lips. "I'll...eat you out for dinner???" your words slurred out, unsure of what you said sounded right.

"fuck. I meant to take you out for dinner.." you cursed. "Not eat you out." you laughed nervously as you looked at the male who couldn't contain his laughter.

"You're fucking pissed..." Price said with an amused tone. " Can't hold your liquor well can you?"

You shook your head no as a small blush dusted your cheeks.

"Dinner sounds nice but so does option two." Price teased.

"Who says we can't do both? I always have room for dessert" you teased back, liquor courage making a comeback inside of you.

"Big appetite?" Price asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Always" you responded with a small smile on your lips while batting your lashes at the older bearded man. His head tilted slightly to the side as his amused eyes never left your face, the smile on his face making you weak on your knees.

"You look like you bite off more than you can chew, young lady."

A playful pout formed on your lips at his words, "awfully rude thing to assume," You crossed your arms under your chest as you glared playfully at him. "Besides, I've been raised to lick my plate clean."

"A good little girl ain't ya?"

"Only when I want to be rewarded." flashing him an 'innocent' smile.

You see him digging through his pockets before pulling out a black marker, he held out his hand and which you reached over and placed your arm in. His calloused hands gently held your wrist as the cool ink of the marker traveled through your arm. You could smell the mix of whiskey and cigar smoke from being so close to him.

"Call me when you're not trollied," he said with a raspy voice, his eyes looking into your shining eyes.

"Trollied? I'm just a bit tipsy," you whined. You tried to lean closer to him but you underestimated the lack of control you had over your body. Before you knew it your face had planted into his chest. Price held onto your upper arms pushing you up.

"Just tipsy, huh?" he said mockingly.

You sent him the middle finger before you rested the side of your head against the bar countertop. You were looking at him while he looked down at you with a soft smile.

"...Harry?" you asked.

"Harry?" he asked back.

"I'm trying to guess your name...Henry?"

"Nope." he took another big gulp from his drink before giving you a clue. "First letter is J."

"James?"

"..."

"...Jack?"

"Fucking hell, do I look like a Jack to you? " he grunted, his eyes squinting at you.

"I'm trying, jeez...Jonathan?"

"You're getting closer, sweetheart."

You kept chanting the name Jonathan before your eyes widened and you looked at him with disgust.

"John? That's such a boring name," you muttered.

"Like your name is any better." he countered

"Best name that will ever leave your mouth" you argued.

"Is that so?" he asked with an eyebrow raised and a cocky smile on his lips.

"It is so, John," you said with emphasis on his name. "The name's y/n"

"Y/n? Only a muppet would have a name like that."

"Fuck you."

"I know you do sweetheart." he teased. "Too fucking drunk to remember your first words to me sweetheart?”"

"Yeah, but with a mouth like yours, the beard gonna stay dry" you taunted.

"Sounds like a challenge," he said while getting closer to your face, noses nearly touching. "Tomorrow night after dinner?"

"Tomorrow night after dinner." you recited his words in agreement.

---

"You're dating the captain?" Gaz asked, bewildered that such a young fine woman would be dating his captain. The captain that he knew was a gruff, grumpy, and bearded old man. The exact man who had a harsh grip on your waist, fingernails plunging into the fabric of your sundress, and harshly pressing into your skin. His usually warm kind eyes, now cold and ruthless, picturing how he could make both of his sergeants suffer for having their eyes roam your body. You both have noticed how their eyes flicker between your eyes and the deep neckline of your dress exposing your cleavage to the young men.

"Why do you both sound so surprised?" Price asked. Standing right behind you, he leaned down and rested his face between your neck and shoulder. His mouth licked a stride of your skin, maintaining eye contact with his men. You let out a small whine at the feeling of his rough beard pricking at your skin, your body slightly squirming against his. "Don't believe your Captain still has his charm?"

"Stop teasing them." you scolded Price, slightly slapping at his chest and pushing him off of your body. You held out your hand, greeting both men formally and apologizing for your lover's behavior. "Well, I hope to see you both more often."

"Likewise bonnie."

---

What was such an honest and somewhat innocent statement from Soap, was the final breaking point for the Captain. Having to constantly see younger males fawn over your beauty, their undeserving eyes devouring your body sometimes left Price self-conscious. It made him question his worth, but you were always ready on your knees to praise him and remind him how wonderful of a lover he is. At other times, it made him territorial, spewing commands and punishments onto you. You were always eager to comply with his commands, and his jealousy and anger were welcomed with your legs wide open, your wet cunt for his personal use. Your moans and whines were encouragement enough for him to know you were his alone.

But for Price to see his own men practically swooning over his lover awakened primal urges in John that were left dormant for far too long. Urges that had you face down onto the sheets with your ass in the air, juices running down your thighs, and a wet cunt milking the captain of his semen.

Rings of white at the base of his cock as you cummed around his length for the fourth time that night. His promises that he growled into your ear had you throbbing around his cock yet again.

"A cunt full of my seed..." Price mumbled against your neck, his fingers kneading the skin of your stomach. "You know what happens if I fuck my cum into your womb don't you darling?" he asked in a teasing voice.

"..b-baby." you cried out. Your back was now pressed against the mattress, Price mounted on top of you with his cock drilling into your gushing wet cunt.

"That's right, princess. You'll look so pretty with a round tummy." Price hissed. Your nails scratched at his back and your legs locked around his waist. "I'll make you a mommy, fuck a baby right into you."

"yes please, daddy." you sobbed. Your back arched as you felt another toe-curling orgasm creeping. "I want to be a mommy. Make me a mommy."

"Shhh..." John shushed, wiping off the tears rolling down your face. " I'll make you a mommy, no need to cry, sweetie."

Small chants of daddy spewed from your mouth as you felt yourself your love juices gush onto Price, absolutely soaking his pelvic region.

"Make you round with my child, your breasts engorged with milk for the baby," Price continued to thrust into you, his cock throbbing, eager to fill your welcoming cunt with his seed. "But you'll let daddy have a taste of your milk, right? Wouldn't want the baby to grow up greedy like his daddy?"

You let out a loud moan as you felt his hot semen spew inside of you, bursts of cum launching deeper and deeper into your womb, Price's words of making you a mommy increasing in possibility. Your legs freed Price from temporary captivity, allowing him to lean back but not pull out just yet. He wanted to ensure his cum stayed inside, his cock merely a cork for your hole at the moment.

---

For the rest of the week, Soap, Gaz, and Ghost would hear you far more often than see you. Your moans of 'daddy' have nearly become background noises, but at night it only serves as a broken alarm keeping them all awake.

" I blame this shit on you" Gaz spat out, trying his best to ignore your begging moans of 'daddy please' through the walls.

"Steamin Jesus." Soap cursed, running and pulling at his mohawk in frustration. "I only called her bonnie, you were eyeing her tits."

Before Gaz could retaliate, Ghost's ruff voice cut through the room. "We are in this fucking bloody situation because you twits don't know to act around anything with tits and a cunt. "

Both men watched as their lieutenant stood up from the room and stated he was going out for a smoke.

"It's gonna be harder to ignore her tits if the Captain knocks her up."

"She'll be walking around with huge milkers."

---

[fandoms-writings]

How about Vampire!Bucky with “Keep your pretty eyes on me.” and “You shouldn’t be out here by yourself.”?

But like, the classic vampires of Anne Rice, not the sparkly bastards from twilight? Perhaps soft!dark too?

Love Bites

Pairing: Dark!Vampire!Bucky x Human!Reader

Word Count: 3.4K (i just can't not write long fics)

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, HEAVY DUBCON , smut, p in v sex, oral (fem receiving), blood, vampire feeding, it's kinda dark tbh, use of mind control (if i miss any please let me know so i can add it <;3)

A/N: I hope you enjoy love! this was tons of fun to write <3 thank you big time to @aquariusbarnes for beta reading for me! all mistakes are my own though.

Masterpost || Bucky Masterlist

You sniffled as you walked, watching the stone of the old road pass under your feet. You wished you could appreciate the history of the place, really take it in like you wanted to. You wished you could enjoy this trip like you intended to. You worked so hard to get the time off, to pay for it. It was your anniversary trip, you were supposed to be having fun.

This was anything but. You'd gone to the bar with John, your piece of shit husband, and he'd excused himself to the bathroom, but when you noticed he'd been gone awhile, you went looking for him. Just to find the bathroom door locked, moans flowing out from the crack at the bottom. The bar had a strict 'no sex in the bathroom' rule, so the bouncer kicked in the door, and there was John, balls deep in a girl you recognized from the booth next to the one you'd been waiting at. 

You'd removed your ring, threw it on the ground, and stormed out, which was a shame. You loved that ring, the ruby was just gorgeous in it. But John hadn't even chased after you, it was like he was a different person. 

You thought about the way he looked at you when the bouncer kicked in the door. His pupils were blown wide and it was like he wasn't even there anymore. You did take notice of the white dust around the edge of his nose though, so maybe he wasn't there. But that's no excuse, especially because you'd never even seen him do drugs. 

"You shouldn't be out here by yourself," said a voice from behind you. It was low and soft, smooth like honey. You turned around, wiping the tears from your face before looking at your observer. "It's dangerous at night." 

You gave him a tight lipped smile, "Thanks for the warning." He stepped out from the shadow, and you couldn't help the nerves that lit on fire in your belly. He was tall, built but not too muscular, his hair was cropped short, almost like a military cut. His sharp jaw was clean shaven, and he had gentle blue eyes. 

"You alright?" He asked, gesturing to your disheveled state. You sighed, pursing your lips for a moment debating on if you should really tell a stranger your life, but you'd probably never see him again, so what's the harm? 

"I'm supposed to be here on my anniversary trip," You muttered, "but I found him cheating not even two days into our trip, so. . ." You crossed your arms, shrinking in on yourself as he approached you. 

"Well, he sounds like an idiot," He said, stopping in front of you, "He'd have to be a moron to be able to even take his eyes off of you." He held his hand out, "I'm Bucky." 

You introduced yourself, placing your hand in his and let out a small gasp when he raised your hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss to your knuckles. 

"It's a pleasure to meet you, even if it was something terrible that brought you out this way." He smiled, releasing your hand. "Can I walk with you? Just make sure you get to wherever you're going safely, if nothing else." 

You hesitated. This was a stranger, in an unfamiliar city, asking to walk with you to where you were staying. It sounded like a terrible disaster just waiting to happen. You shouldn't let him come with you to the hotel. 

Before you could process what was happening, you heard your voice agree, telling him he could join you, but you didn't remember giving your mouth permission to say those things. 

He fell into step beside you, keeping his hands shoved in his pockets, only bumping your elbow with his if he was trying to show you something. He told you about the city as you walked, distracting you from the events of earlier. He stopped at an old ice cream place, buying you a small cup of your favorite flavor, and taking you to a small park bench where he sat with you while you ate. 

"Thank you," You said when you finished your cup. He took it and threw it away before coming back and sitting next to you. "You really don't have to stick with me all night. I'm sure you have places to be." 

"This is the only place I want to be right now," He looked over at you with a small smile. 

"With a stranger?" You ask, wrapping your arms around yourself. The ice cream was good, but that mixed with the small night breeze, you can't stop the chills running up your spine. Bucky took notice and stood, pulling his sweater off and offering it to you as he sat back down. 

"I'd say you're just a little more than a stranger now," He chuckled. 

"I guess you're right," You smiled. 

"Are you planning on going back to your hotel?" He asked, "Would your husband be there?" 

Fuck, he's right. Your smile falls as you think about it. Where else would John go except back to the hotel? You didn't want to stay there if he was going to be there. He had a key so he could be there already, and you weren't ready for that. You didn't want to face him right now. 

You hang your head with a sigh, the tears beginning to well in your eyes again. "I don't know. I don't want to see him, but I have nowhere else to go. And neither does he, so he would definitely be there." You wiped at your face with your hands and let out a groan. 

Bucky didn't respond immediately, but when you looked over at him to apologize for all the drama going on in your life, he looked like he was debating on telling you something. 

"What is it?" You prompted, watching as he sighed. 

"I know you just met me," he started, "and by no means do you have to accept, but I have a spare room that you are more than welcome to stay in. At least for the night, and then in the morning you can sort your hotel stuff out and go stay wherever you want." 

You went to decline, this wasn't something you would accept from a stranger for multiple reasons. You didn't know him that well, you didn't want to impose, and he could be dangerous. But it was like when he asked to walk with you earlier - it felt like your body had a mind of its own as you heard yourself agreeing to stay with him, and before you knew it, you were following him to a lavish apartment building in the middle of the city. 

"You live here?" You asked as you eyed the building in wonder, the towering skyrise seemingly reaching into the heavens. 

"I do," He smirked down at you as he held the door open for you, leading the way to the elevator. You watched as he pressed the very top floor button.

"Top floor, huh?" 

"Best view of the city, you'll see," He smiled down at you before looking forward again. You eyed him a bit - you could've swore you saw a hint of a different color in his eyes, but you couldn't get another good look to confirm. 

The elevator stopped and you pulled the sweater tighter around you, nerves beginning to set you more on edge then before as you waited for the doors to open. 

The doors opened, and he was right, the view was spectacular. 

The place was lined with floor to ceiling windows where you could see the expanse of almost the entire city below you. There were only a few lights on here and there, the place mostly lit up by the moon right out the windows. 

His decor screamed money in a dark modern luxury type of way. The furniture was all dark wood with even darker cushions. You kept him in your peripheral as you walked around the room. If you had to guess, he was probably working for the mafia, or he was a CEO of some huge company you'd never heard of. No one his age could afford this place without being famous for something. 

"You want anything to drink? Or eat?" He asked as he led the way to the kitchen, turning on lights as he went.

"Just some water would be lovely," You said, following a bit behind him. Something about this place made you uneasy, you weren't sure what it was - if it was him, or how high up you were, or the fact that for some reason you had agreed to this - but you were attempting to keep your distance just in case. 

You watched as he filled your glass and slid it across the counter in front of you, adding nothing strange to your drink in the process. 

That's good at least, you thought. He started talking about where the shower was, where you could find towels, and that he'd get you a spare change of clothes so you didn't have to smell like the bar anymore. You took him up on the offer, grabbing everything you needed before locking yourself in the grand guest bathroom. 

~~~

"This is the guest room, and I'm down the hall," Bucky stated as you followed him through the hall. You noticed none of the bedrooms had windows and you thought it was odd, but at least the sun wouldn't wake you the second it rose. 

"Thank you, for letting me stay," You said, fiddling with the edge of the shirt he gave you, your legs warmed by the fleece pants. "I really appreciate it. I owe you." 

"Of course," He smiled down at you. "You don't owe me anything," he reached forward, picking a piece of lint from your shoulder, "all I want to do is help you forget about your husband." 

Your brows scrunched together, "What?" 

"After the night you've had, don't you think you deserve to have some fun?" He suggested, reaching to cup your cheek. His hand was oddly cold, but you did just take a hot shower so you didn't think too much about it. "Say the word, and I'll make you forget about your moron of a husband. Or I'll leave you to your room." 

It was like all the air was sucked out of your lungs as you stared up at him. He wore this look of sincerity and. . . hunger? How long had it been since you'd been on the receiving end of that stare? John hadn't really cared the past few months, you'd hoped this trip would spark something in him again. He'd run off with some woman from the bar, not even 50 feet from you, so what harm would sleeping with Bucky do? 

He'd been nothing but nice to you, catering really. He'd taken care of you, though you did have those two moments where your body betrayed you in favor of his wishes. But, maybe that was your body telling you something. If anything, you'd just slip out in the morning the second the sun came up. 

Reaching up to grab his hand, you nodded, "Make me forget about him." You whispered it, but the second it left your lips, his eyes darkened, darker than you've ever seen anyone's eyes go. 

He nodded, moving to lace your fingers with his as he led you down the hall to the master bedroom. It was just as lavish as the rest of the apartment, maybe even more so. The bed was massive, lined with a deep rich red comforter and sheets that looked as soft as clouds. He pulled you to the edge of it before cupping your cheeks, pulling you in till you were just a breath away. 

"Are you sure?" He asked, looking to you for confirmation before he moved. 

"Yes," You muttered, gasping when his lips met yours. It was slow at first, the way his lips moved with yours, like he was learning how you kissed, how you liked to be kissed, before he deepened it. His tongue slipped past your lips, taking a quick taste at your mouth before retreating, like he was asking for permission - permission which you granted. 

He tasted the entirety of your mouth as he hands moved under the shirt to paw at your skin, gripping and pulling you flush against him as he groaned into your mouth. He guided you towards the bed, pulling away to let you lay across the comforter, which was as soft as you imagined. 

Laying himself above you, he slotted his knee between your legs, pushing his thigh into your warm core, smirking at the small whine you let out as your hips grinded down on his thigh. "Eager are you?" He mumbled against your lips, "Did your lousy husband never satisfy you?" 

"He used to, but not lately," it ignited a bit of shame, admitting how unfulfilled you were in your marriage, but all Bucky did was smile as his hands moved to the waistband of your pants. 

"I'll fix that," he pulled your pants gently down your legs, admiring your skin as he went. "Don't you worry." He winked at you before grabbing one of your legs and starting a trail of wet kisses up from your ankle. Suddenly, it was like all of your nerves fizzled out. You were almost completely comfortable laying there, like you belonged. 

He ran his nose up your calf and your thigh, stopping at your hip to place another wet kiss, sucking a bit on your skin and sending shivers of excitement up your spine. Pushing the shirt up over your chest, he followed it with his lips and his tongue, inhaling your skin, savoring it as long as he could. You'd never had someone be so attentive, so infatuated with you that they took their time like this. He helped you out of the shirt before settling between your thighs.

"I've barely even started and you're already dripping," He slowly said, his voice starting the butterflies in your stomach. He leaned down, placing a gentle peck to your clit, smirking when your hips jolted, trying to get more pressure. "You are eager." 

"Please," You whispered, watching with half lidded eyes, "please, Bucky." 

"Mm," he hummed, reaching up to grab your breast, gently tugging on your hardened nipple, "only because you asked so sweetly." 

He flattened his tongue along your folds before dragging it up and circling his lips around your clit, groaning into you when you let out a wanton moan. Your hands dove down, trying to grip his short cropped hair, tugging him closer with what you could grab, settling for just gripping his head. 

He ate you like he'd done this a thousand times before. He knew exactly when to speed up, and when to slow to keep you teetering on the edge, the band that quickly grew in your stomach just ready to snap. 

He pulled his tongue off of you, cooing at you when you whined at the loss, trying to pull him back. He pulled his hand from your breast, using his thumb to circle your clit, pushing on it every so slightly. 

"Now," He started, his voice raspy as he sunk a finger into your cunt, "I need just one thing from you, before I give you what you want - what you need." 

You looked down at him, swallowing the sudden nerves in your throat as you nodded. 

He smirked, his eyes going red, "I need you to stay still, and keep your pretty eyes on me." 

Your body froze and your eyes went wide. His suddenly red eyes sent a spark of fear through you, but your body wouldn't move out from under him, no matter how much you tried.  It was just like before, where your body followed his exact commands.

"Good girl," He growled as he curled his finger, brushing at that spongy spot, "I'll only take a little, I promise." His mouth opened in a hungry pant and you watched as his canines lengthened themselves into points. 

You wanted to run, to put as much distance between you and him as possible, but your body wouldn't move. He pulled at the skin of your thigh before gently sinking his fangs into you, the sharp pain only lasting a second before it went numb. You could feel him lapping at your skin, the blood flowing into his mouth.

He looked up at you for a split second before his eyes rolled into the back of his head as he moaned, the vibration running through your muscles. You shouldn't be turned on by this, you know you shouldn't, but the way he looked at you after, like you hung the sky itself, it was intoxicating. 

He pulled away gently, licking up the bit that escaped his lips before turning his attention back to you. "You taste even better than you smell." He wiped at the corner of his mouth with his free hand, licking the blood off of it before climbing up your body, curling his fingers again. 

"Now," He said, pulling his finger free from your pussy's grip on it, and pulling his cock free from his trousers, "Your turn." 

He lined himself up with your entrance after coating himself in your slick, and pushed in slowly to the hilt, filling you in a way you never knew before. He groaned once he was seated all the way in and he reached to grab your legs, holding them as he slowly started to rock into you. 

"I've been watching you since you got here," He stated, relishing in the tears that were starting in your eyes, "Your dumbass of a husband following you like a bored teenage boy. You deserve better. Then," He slammed his hips into yours, closing his eyes at the feeling of being so deep in you, "then I got a whiff of you, of your blood when you got that paper cut opening the welcoming card from your hotel. I knew I had to have you." 

He dropped one of your legs, placing his hand over your stomach, pushing down on the bulge he was creating with every thrust, the band in your stomach starting to grow tight again. "It was easy, getting him to listen to me. I found him in the bathroom, told him to fuck the girl who was gonna join him, and sent her in there." He smiled deviously down at you, an eerie hint of obsession tinting his eyes.  

"Then it was just a matter of waiting till you were far enough away from him that I could approach you," He leaned down till his nose was brushing against yours, "And fuck you're perfect. Make some noise for me, will you baby?" 

A loud moan tore itself from your throat and you couldn't stop the series of curses that left your lips as he sped up his hips, slamming into you, hitting that spongy spot over and over and over, quickly bringing you over the edge. But he stopped before you could topple over, and he gripped your cheeks, making you look at him again. 

"You'll forget about him," he ordered, "you belong to me, now." 

You couldn't remember who he was talking about, or what had happened. All you knew was that you were his, and he was yours. And he was fucking you so good. 

"That's it," He smiled when he noticed that familiar look in your eyes. His hand left your face, and his thumb circled your clit as he pounded into you again, tossing you quickly over the edge. Your orgasm washed over you in waves, your walls gripping him as he kept pumping in and out of you, quickly pushing you towards another one. 

The second one took you just a fast, your blood roaring in your ears. The smell of your blood rushing through your veins pushed him to his climax and you watched his hips stutter before painting your walls with his spend. 

"That's my girl," He panted. Once you caught your breath, he smiled down at you, "I have something for you." 

You smiled, "For me?" 

He reached for his pants without pulling out of you, and his hand dove into the pocket, pulling out a gorgeous ring. It had a silver band, with a ruby surrounded by small square cut diamonds. 

"Bucky," You gasped, "That's gorgeous, but why?" 

"My girl deserves pretty things, don't you think?" He slid it over your finger, smirking as it fit perfectly. "Look, it's like it was made for you." 

You smiled bright up at him with a laugh. "It's perfect," you muttered before reaching up to pull him down to you, slotting your lips over his, "Thank you." 

"Anything for my girl." 

As always, thank you for reading! Reblogs, comments, and likes are all appreciated!

If you enjoyed the story, please consider supporting me on my Ko-fi

If you want to be updated when i post a new story, please follow my library blog and turn on notifications <;3 @remis-library​ 

[writeforfandoms]

Warrior Song 13

Find the series masterlist

Okay guys, we're approaching the end! I think we've got two chapters left in this story. And remember, if you kill me, I can't finish the story.

Medic learns more about Atriox's plan, and has a difficult decision to make.

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical plots against humanity, nobody likes humanity I guess, playing fast and loose with canon, canon is my sandbox. Mention of injuries.

Word count: 2k

Master chief/John-117 x f!reader

“Humanity has been more opposition than I first imagined,” Atriox growled. He’d left you on the ground, for which you were grateful. It was easier to hide the shaking when you were already seated. “But you will not be for much longer.” 

You couldn’t see exactly what he was doing. You were a medic, not an engineer. But you knew it was bad. 

You wished you did know what he was doing, so you could find some way to stop him. 

Not that you really thought you could. You were, after all, the third most harmless person on this ring. 

“Why did you not break when you lost your Master Chief?” 

It took you a solid two seconds to realize that Atriox was not speaking to you, but speaking of humanity in general. You swallowed hard.

“Well, he died before, so.” You almost immediately winced at yourself. Oh yeah, great plan, snark at the maniac with the weapons and hands as big as your head. Good job. 

Atriox huffed. “Then I will see to his death permanently this time,” he growled. “He will be the first, but not the last.” He looked down at you over his shoulder, the blue lighting only making him more intimidating, somehow. 

You swallowed hard. That was very much a threat. One he apparently intended to see through. 

This was so bad. 

Two of the Endless floated nearer to him, and Atriox once again elected to ignore you, back to you. You took the chance to look around, carefully. You were far from alone, after all. 

There were weapons and supplies stacked neatly. More than you were comfortable seeing. 

It looked like war preparations. 

Which was terrifying, of course, but also rather useless here. Sure, Atriox could lead the Endless and whatever of his forces remained against the humans here on the Halo, but that was far from all of humanity. 

Fernando had told you the Halo was non-operational, John had dismantled whatever it was that made it a weapon. 

So what was Atriox’s plan? 

Not that it really mattered, so long as someone thwarted his plan. You doubted you could do much, but you could try. 

Very carefully, you scooted back away from the control panel and Atriox. Nobody even looked at you, clearly deeming you harmless. 

Maybe you could use that to your advantage? Somehow? 

You could feel the Halo humming under you, gentle vibrations that would have been soothing if you weren’t absolutely terrified. Nobody else seemed to pay it any attention, but you leaned into it a bit. 

Look, you could really use anything to help you calm down a bit just about now. 

Okay, so you couldn’t tell what they were planning, and they were currently ignoring you, correctly deciding that you were not someone they needed to worry about. Okay. What else could you do? 

There were tons of weapons, of course. Most of which you didn’t know how to use. And which you had no chance of doing any real damage with. Okay, yeah, not your best idea. Moving on. 

The Endless seemed to be doing their own thing - only a few were around Atriox. You didn’t know where the rest had gone, because when Chief had been chasing them there had been many, many more. Possibly they were around the rest of the Halo? But for what purpose?

Maybe they knew how to repair it.

The thought stirred dread in your chest, cold seeping into your bones and your mind. That… was horrifying. And terrible. That would end so poorly. 

But you had to consider it.

From what you remembered, the Endless had been around with the Forerunners, so there was a possibility they knew how to work this tech. 

Which was honestly pretty terrifying. But this whole situation was pretty terrifying, so you weren’t sure how to qualify the actual level of terrifying anymore. 

Okay. So. Atriox and the Endless were definitely up to something. You couldn’t do a lot from here. But you could watch, observe, try to piece together their plan.

And that’s exactly what you did. You sat there, thigh aching, gaze fixed on Atriox and the Endless around him. Maybe if you watched you’d get some hint, some clue as to their plan. Maybe. 

It was the least you could do, anyway. 

For the large part, they all ignored you. Atriox, the Endless, the Sangheili. All of them. You were beneath their focus, not worthy of watching more than to make sure you didn’t grab a weapon and start shooting. 

Not that you were offended by this. They were pretty much right about that. 

You had no idea how long you sat there. Time was meaningless and impossible to track. You just stayed exactly where you were, watching everything.

So when the Sangheili approached you again, you flinched. But he just sneered down at you and hauled you to your feet, grip uncaringly tight around your upper arm. You winced but kept quiet. 

You were moved through a doorway, though your thigh ached and threatened to give out from under you. A walkway went around the circular room, with a single walkway stretching out over nothingness to a central point. 

“Move,” Atriox growled from to the side of you. You chanced a quick look, but he was just watching you. So you stepped forward carefully, slowly. 

“What am I doing?” You kept your voice low - it felt wrong to speak at full volume here. 

“Ensuring my victory.” Atriox stepped up behind you, too close, looming over you. Then again, being on the same damn Halo as him was too close. Two of the Endless floated near you, watching with open curiosity. 

So. They needed you to do something. Some way to interact with the Halo, or activate it, or something. But they needed you to do it. Or else why bother grabbing a human at all? Why bother keeping you alive? 

Too many questions, not enough answers, and no way to get them. You blew out a slow breath, looking down at the interface in front of you. You could probably throw yourself off the walkway, which would at least slow down his plans. Give Blue Team a chance to catch up and stop him. 

But you didn’t want to. You really didn’t want to. 

Apparently tired of waiting for you, Atriox grabbed your arm, pulling your hand forward to slap against the interface. It lit up vibrant blue, sending chills down your spine. 

“The Forerunners thought they were being so clever,” he growled, watching various statuses show up, flicking through them. “Leaving their technology to humans.” 

The two Endless moved closer, and you stepped away. Carefully. Slowly. Your arm ached and throbbed where you’d been grabbed twice now, but nobody stopped you. They were focused on the displays. 

Okay. Maybe you could back up, grab a weapon, and… do something. 

You didn’t have a chance to plan more than that, though, as the sound of gunfire echoed down into the open room. Atriox started barking orders, his remaining soldiers gearing up quickly. 

You used the distraction to scuttle away as fast as you could, trying to remain out of the way. Partially because you didn’t want to get shot, and partially because you didn’t want to get grabbed as a shield. It was easy for you to hide in the growing chaos, looking around almost desperately for some way to defend yourself. 

The sounds of fighting grew louder, the shots getting closer. You had just turned to look back at the weapons stash, so you had a perfect view of Blue Team advancing into the room. Your breath stuttered out of you. They were okay. They were all okay. 

“Master Chief,” Atriox rumbled, taking one step forward. “We meet again.”

Chief didn’t respond, just shifting his grip on his gun, helmet fixed on Atriox. 

“You will not be so lucky again.” Atriox started forward, the floor shaking under his steps as he ran towards Chief. 

You didn’t watch. You couldn’t watch. Two of the Endless were still working at the terminal, completely avoiding the fighting. Whatever they were working on was bad, clearly. They were trying to get it done. 

You’d just have to disrupt their work. 

A shotgun slid towards you, bumping into your shoe. You picked it up quickly and then looked at Blue Team. Fred nodded to you once before he threw a whole Unggoy into the pit, the high-pitched squeals fading quickly.

You didn’t hear it hit the bottom. 

You knew the basics of gun safety, at least, so you were able to point and shoot. Which you did. Your first shot was a little wide, but the second hit both Endless. One of them turned on you with a furious sound while the other continued working. 

Well. Damn. 

You pressed your back into the wall, eyes wide. That had not gone according to plan! 

But the Endless didn’t have a chance to attack. Two more shots hit it in the back, and it turned and… teleported? It did something and moved away from you. 

Giving you a chance to focus on the remaining one. You needed to stop it. Somehow. You had no ammo, no convenient ally to help. 

So you did what you could. You threw the entire shotgun at the Endless. 

The Endless turned, energy crackling at its fingertips. Oh shit. It floated towards you slowly, seemingly just to enjoy the panic on your face as you scrambled backwards, away from it. 

Kelly dropped down out of seemingly nowhere, pinning the Endless beneath her and shooting it in the face three times. “Stop taunting them,” she scolded you, sparing you one look before she leapt off to deal with something else. 

You breathed out slowly, shakily. Yeah. Right. Good idea. You’d accomplished your goal, anyway. 

Back still pressed against the wall, you hunkered down a little, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. The fight around you was loud and far too close, but there was nowhere else to go. 

You had the perfect vantage point to see Atriox look back at the control panel. You saw two Sangheili descend on Chief to distract him. You saw Atriox leap back to the control panel. 

You looked down when you felt something bump into your shoe. Another weapon. But this time it was a grenade. You had no idea what kind it was, or what it did, but you recognized the shape. 

You picked up the grenade. Blue Team was scattered across the room, dealing with the veritable flood of Endless. 

Could you make that throw? Maybe. 

A sharp clang jerked your head to the side as Fred hit the wall across from you, getting back to his feet quickly, in time to block a shot from an Unggoy. 

Your Spartans were doing well, but they hadn’t known the extent of what they faced. They didn’t know Atriox’s full plan.

Neither did you, of course, but you knew more than they did. You knew that he couldn’t succeed. 

You knew what you had to do.

It took all your courage to take that first step forward. Then another. You moved slowly, softly. You didn’t even register to the combatants - the Endless were focused on Blue Team, and Blue Team was focused on eliminating the actual threats with extreme prejudice. 

You nearly wobbled the last step you dared, your instincts screaming at you to run away from Atriox. But you didn’t. You held your ground, facing his back, shaking. You pulled the pin on the grenade, crouching a little. Okay. You could do this. 

You rolled the grenade right between Atriox’s feet until it hit the bottom of the control panel and stopped. 

Your gaze met John’s across the room, his visor impenetrable as ever, but still comforting. He shouted, and it took you a moment to realize he’d called your name. 

Atriox made a triumphant noise. 

John lunged.

The grenade went off.

[kittyball23]

Hot Tubbing (a Trolls fanfic)

Summary: After babysitting his 13 nieces and nephews, Branch unwinds in one of Vacay Island’s jacuzzi-like hot springs… and is soon joined by Poppy

A/N: November 17th is finally here!! Welcome to the first story of my new oneshot collection "Grown-Up Stuff," (also found on AO3, Fanfiction.net, and Wattpad under the same name in addition to being posted here on Tumblr) which will mostly be centered around Broppy, but may feature some Cliva and other couples in the future :)

FYI this fic has been Rated M, as it will have adult themes present, though nothing explicitly written. You do not have to read if these topics are something you are not comfortable with. If you do decide to go forth, all I can say is enjoy! 💕

__________________________________________

"Ahhh…"

Now that felt good. While the water had stung a bit upon entering, it didn't take very long at all for it to work its magic and ease the soreness in Branch’s muscles. Pretty soon, he was leaning back, his arms on either side of him and a sigh of satisfaction escaping his lips. His brother Bruce wasn't kidding. The hot springs really were a great place to unwind, especially after being tossed and wrestled by kids who were far taller than Trolls. Most of the time, this type of experience befell Bruce, but, given that he and Brandy had taken the night off to have some alone time, babysitting duty had fallen upon Branch.

For the first half of the night at least.

He rotated positions with John Dory for the second half, and could now take a moment to relax properly. And on Vacay Island, everything was top-notch in that department. The potent warmth was soon working to bring a sense of sleepiness to him, and he allowed his eyes to shut. Aimless thoughts wandered throughout his mind: of Pop Village, of his brothers, but, mostly of Poppy. He could feel a smile forming on his lips even in his twilight state. Poppy... She looked good in his head, whether it was a memory or whether it was just fantasies of what their future together could bring. One of those, admittedly, was marriage and a family. Maybe not a family as big as Bruce's, but still, a few Troll kiddos wouldn't be so bad. Not bad at all. And neither would the way to go about making that happen... Branch felt as though the water got even hotter when he thought of that.

The Troll didn't think he was too far gone in his exhaustion, but somewhere he figured he must've fallen asleep to the hum of the bubbling water and wind in the foliage, because it was a soft, feminine voice that he registered next.

"You look pretty relaxed."

Branch stirred, blinking drowsy eyes up at the newcomer.

"Huh, wha?" he mumbled, rubbing an eye and registering that it was Poppy who'd spoken. She peered down amusedly at him, her lips sipping at the straw of a fruity drink and her legs slightly submerged into the water from her spot at the edge of the pool. But if the sheer presence of his beloved wasn't enough to stir him awake, then it sure was the attire she had on. The swimsuit was a powder-yellow two-piece, hugging her body snugly and extenuating her slim figure in ways that made his mind race with desire.

He sat straight up, flustered. "Oh! H-hey, Poppy," he stammered, trying to sound casual. Branch cleared his throat, and managed to speak a little more controlled the second time around. "So, um, what are you doing here? I thought you and Viva were hitting the waves."

Poppy nodded. "Yeah, we did for a little bit. But then we called it early. Veevs had other plans… with your brother."

Branch cooked his head. "Clay?"

"Yeah," Poppy confirmed with a smirk. "She wanted to spend some time with him… and I wanted to spend some time with you." She glanced down at him with a half-lidded gaze, giving a flirtatious little growl.

Branch’s eyes bugged.

"So whaddya say, Branch? Got room for one more?"

"Well, I, um, I mean… you can, um, i-if you wanna…"

Poppy smiled. "Great!"

Setting her drink down, she scooted herself over the edge of the pool and plopped inside. The water sloshed a bit, and she hissed at the temperature that befell her skin.

"Ooo, you all right?" Branch asked, concern lacing his voice.

"Oh, yeah, I'm good!" Poppy assured. "Feels really, really nice."

"Yeah," Branch agreed, smirking. "It sure does…" He surprised himself with the husky quality his voice had taken, and realized that it didn't go over Poppy’s head, either. There was a look on her face that could only be described as pleased bewilderment, and he could see a blush forming on her cheeks.

Affected so, she bore into his blue eyes with her deep fuchsia and batted her lashes. "Why don't you come a little closer," she purred, adding her own little suggestive twinge to her words.

Now it was Branch’s turn to blush. A tingle went down his spine - and in other places he wouldn't dare tell her about - but he liked it. And while he wanted to obey, he didn't see the harm in dragging out the tease, even if it was by a minute or two.

"Ehh, I don't know," he said, as though he were indecisive.

Poppy pretended to pout, sticking her bottom lip out. "Aww, come on, I won't bite!" But then she paused, giggled, and added, "Much."

Branch raised an eyebrow. "Much?" he questioned. "What do you mean by that?"

"Get over here and find out," she urged, rolling her eyes playfully.

Branch shrugged. "Fine."

Slowly, purposefully slow, he moved towards her, taking his time inching himself towards her space.

Poppy tapped her fingers impatiently against the edge of the pool. "Can you move any slower?" she whined.

"Can you be any cuter?" he quipped back, finally in enough proximity to be able to wrap an arm around her. Poppy’s arms slinked around his neck, firmly holding him to her as he brought a damp hand up to her cheek, cupping it gently. He waited a heartbeat, letting the sensual tension escalate between them, before allowing himself to lean forward and close the gap.

Poppy sighed deeply as their lips met, melting into the kiss, and Branch felt a surge of affection run through his veins. He tilted his head almost instantly, deepening the connection right away, and she moaned quietly in approval. She was extra sweet, he noted, her taste a hint of pineapple from the fruity concoction she'd been sipping, as well as her usual, strawberry flavor that seemed to permeate every part of her being. It made him feel warm and fuzzy all throughout, making it far too easy to lose himself in the experience. He made a noise of appreciation at the feeling as he pulled away just long enough to gasp in another breath and dive back in, twice as eager this time.

Turned out he wasn’t the only one eager. As he’d learned, Poppy had been the one in their relationship to test the metaphorical waters. First with the peck to the cheek he’d received on the day of the Trolls Kingdom Holiday Gift Swap, and then with the first real kiss they’d shared at Mount Rageous, after he’d successfully opened up to her about his feelings. And now, she was testing herself again.

He hadn’t known what she was up to, until she actually did it. He gasped when he felt a nip, Poppy’s teeth having caught his bottom lip upon one of their breaks for air and tugging lightly for a second before she released. The sensation sent an unexpected bolt of excitement coursing through him, the feeling stronger when he noted Poppy's dark, dilated pupils gazing hungrily at him, her breath coming quicker now. Flirty growls, or no flirty growls, Branch knew one thing - his girlfriend was turned on.

And so was he.

Their next kiss that followed was deeper, and more passionate as a result. Poppy nipped once again, at the corner of his mouth this time, and allowed her next few smooches to trail across his jawline, making a path down the crook of his neck. Branch hummed, his thoughts battling each other. One part of him enjoyed the attention profusely, while the other had him wishing his lips could claim hers again. Both evaporated, however, when he felt her reach a sensitive spot just below his earlobe and take another little nibble. He wouldn't know how to describe the sound that came out of him in response. It might have been a whimper, or it might have been a groan, but either way, it caused Poppy to giggle, the vibration of her laugh tickling Branch's skin.

It wasn't hard to admit that she had a guilty pleasure in prompting reactions out of Branch. Which is why her next idea was getting her excited.

She leaned back, ensuring that her fuchsia gaze was unwaveringly locked to his blue as her hands wandered down, below the water, reaching the hem of his swimming trunks.

Blushing heavily and bracing himself for the onslaught of sensory stimulation that was sure to come, Branch knew he wasn't going to be truly prepared for what was coming next…

… Though, not in the intimate way that he anticipated.

So focused on expecting the next feeling to be under the confines of his swim attire, Branch nearly jumped when an enormous, unforeseen SPPLLAAASH! erupted from the pool in a wave of jacuzzi water that drenched him and Poppy completely!

Poppy shrieked in surprise, ripping herself away from Branch, while her boyfriend sputtered, eyes wide.

"What the - who - ??"

“WOO! Ten outta ten on that cannonball, ay, bro?”

“Oh, nooo,” Branch groaned, already knowing that voice before he even finished rubbing the water out of his eyes completely. “John Dory, you’re not supposed to jump into a jacuzzi! And aren’t you supposed to be watching the kids?!”

His eldest brother adjusted his goggles and blew a raspberry. “Yo, chill, dude, Floyd’s got it covered. He offered to step in and help!”

Branch facepalmed. Oh, Floyd. He knew his favorite brother was big-hearted and always looking out for the rest of their crew… but taking over John Dory’s babysitting duty when not even five minutes had passed by was a little absurd! Branch could probably guess that JD hammed up his struggle just to get out of it.

John Dory then noticed Poppy. “Hey, Poppy Seed! How’s it shakin’ since the last time I saw ya?”

Poppy giggled, meeting him halfway for a fistbump, and shrugged her shoulders. “Oh, you know. Guess you could say I’ve been ‘shaking things up’ with Branch.” She gave her boyfriend a sly look, to which he became bashful, remembering what she had been about to do.

“Oh,” John Dory said, then putting it together and realizing what he’d done. “OHHH, shoot, did I interrupt something here?”

Branch’s deadpanned look told him what he needed to know.

He tittered with embarrassment. “Hehe, my bad! I could totally scoot if ya want. I’m sure there’s gotta be some other jacuzzi here on the isle!”

“No, it’s okay, we were just heading out,” Poppy said, lifting herself over the edge of the pool and reaching for the towel she'd brought with her. “But we’ll see you later, okay?”

JD looked disappointed to see them go, but understood. “It’s all right. Catch y’all later!”

As Branch and Poppy walked off hand in hand, the Pop Queen giggled. Branch glanced at her with curiosity.

“Probably should’ve told him there’d be no guarantee we’d see him later,” she said suggestively.

Branch raised an eyebrow, the heat returning to his cheeks. “Poppy… what do you have in mind?”

She glanced at him mischievously. “Wanna go look for another hot spring? I’m sure John Dory’s right, there’s gotta be more than one on the island. That way we can finish what we started…” She peers down at her place of interest for just a flit of a moment, but even then it causes Branch to blush, stammering his reply.

“S-sure!”

[erikahenningsen]

4 cady/regina?

4. “Do you…well…I mean…I could give you a massage?”

Cady's been spending a lot of time with Regina lately. Just them, no Gretchen or Karen.

It isn't until she's started spending her afternoons doing homework sprawled out on Regina's fluffy white rug that Cady realizes how much of a performance Regina was putting on every time they would hang out as a group.

Cady has learned a lot about Regina just in the last few weeks—she likes to read, for one thing. And not the teen romance novels that are Cady's personal guilty pleasure. Regina reads Shakespeare, Richard Wright, John Steinbeck.

This afternoon, Regina is sitting in her bed propped up on no less than four pillows reading a thick biography of Joe McCarthy ("He originated gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss," Regina had said when Cady asked about it) while Cady works her way through her calculus homework.

The problem with doing her homework at Regina's is that Cady often finds herself staring at Regina—the way she squints slightly in concentration or taps a pen against her teeth absently—without even realizing she's doing it. She's gotten caught multiple times, but Regina only ever blushes a little and goes back to whatever she was doing, so Cady hasn't really tried to stop.

Which is how Cady notices that Regina has been shifting restlessly for the last twenty minutes, seemingly unable to get comfortable, but Cady doesn't say anything until Regina lets out a soft grunt of pain.

"Are you okay?" Cady asks.

"My back is bothering me," Regina says, softly, like she doesn't want to admit it.

Cady frowns. "Why?"

"I got hit by a bus." Regina tosses one of her pillows onto the floor.

"Oh." Cady looks down, mentally kicking herself. "Right. Sorry."

"It's not your fault," Regina reminds her, her voice a little tight.

They're quiet for a few minutes, and Cady can tell Regina is trying not to move around too much, but her mouth is tense and she's breathing harshly through her nose. Something about the sight makes Cady's chest tighten.

"Do you... well..." Cady starts hesitantly. "I mean... I could give you a massage?"

Regina just stares at her for a moment. "A massage?"

"Yeah like... with my hands?" Cady says, holding her hands up, because she's still incapable of not sounding like an idiot in front of a crush.

Cady's brain screeches to a halt for a moment at the sudden realization of what she feels for Regina but she has to quickly file that thought away to obsess over later because Regina says, "Okay."

Cady climbs onto the bed, gesturing for Regina to sit in front of her, because if she has to straddle Regina while she lies on her stomach Cady's brain will actually explode and she will die right here in Regina's bedroom without ever having taken AP Calculus BC.

Tentatively, Cady sweeps Regina's hair to the side and places her hands on her shoulders, digging her thumbs into the space between Regina's shoulder blades.

Carefully, Cady massages the muscles of Regina's back, the way her mom used to do for her when she couldn't sleep, their breathing only sound in the room.

Until Regina lets out a soft sound that Cady knows she'll be repeating in her mind for the rest of the day, the rest of the week, maybe the rest of her life. She doesn't know how she can ever think about anything but that sound, low and intimate and triggering wholly inappropriate thoughts that she tries to get under control because a small part of her is still convinced Regina is, on some level, telepathic.

"Hey," Regina complains, wiggling a little, and Cady realizes her hands have stopped moving.

"Sorry," Cady says, resuming her massage, although she feels a little like she's a puppeteer controlling her arms by strings from above.

"Thanks," Regina says after another few minutes, turning around to give Cady a soft smile. "That helped."

Cady just nods, knowing she is absolutely screwed.

[ellaenchanting]

Hypnovember 2023 Day 2: Brain Drain

I have committed Our Flag Means Death fanfiction! I am so sorry. Stede/Ed, Ed/Izzy, somehow happy poly and happy metamours making a lovely vee. Takes place in some AU season 2 where the last arc of the season never happened. Izzy is living his best happy masochist life.

Author knows fuck all about ships.

Izzy had gotten much more comfortable spending time with his shipmates since the Calypso's birthday incident.

There was nothing like a round of torture to bring a crew together, he thought.

Tonight the whole group had gathered in the galley under the ship, laughing and chatting long past when they usually went into their quarters for the evening. The sea had been calm that day and the mood was social. Everyone seemed quite relaxed.

Only two members were missing.

Oluwande looked up from his cuddle pile with Jim and Archie. He seemed to have read Izzy's mind. "Hey," he called out to the gathered group, "Has anyone seen the captains this evening?"

"No!" a few people responded.

"Thank God," snarked Black Pete. "Blackbeard...well Ed has been freaking me out. Yelled at me earlier about trimming the sails and you KNOW I keep them the trimmest, babe," he said to his partner Lucius.

"Yeah, he snarled at me when I told him 'hello' earlier," said Archie. "Like this!" She contorted her face into a frankly over-the-top grimace. "Made me nearly jump out of my skin. I may have heard him yell at some seagulls too? Or dolphins?"

Roach looked worried. "Neither captain has come down for dinner, yet," he said.

"Perhaps they are...occupied in the captain's quarters," speculated Izzy.

"Oh? Feeling left out, are you?" joked Frenchie, the little shit. Izzy tactfully ignored him.

Roach replied, still concerned. "Captain Stede will usually come down and request provisions in advance if they're having a long night alone," said Roach. "Thinks he's being sneaky, says they need extra energy 'for planning raids.'"

"My room is below theirs. Trust me, they've not been buggering today," piped up Wee John. "Unless they've learned to be much more quiet about it."

"Maybe they've gotten into a spat and someone's gotten pushed off the ship," spat Lucius. "That'll happen with him, you know."

"OK, that's enough," said Izzy, trying to regain control over the situation as everyone began to talk at once. "You're like gossipy fishwives, all of you. I'll go check on the captains. Make sure Bonnet's not running the ship into a cliff or something."

Izzy climbed up the stairs and started to look around the ship. Ed and Stede weren't in the captain's quarters (being quiet for once). There was no sign of them on the deck. He even craned his neck up to the bird's nest and checked. No captains there.

He finally spotted them at the back of the ship- on a little bit of the stern mostly hidden from view. They were both sitting facing out at the ocean. From a distance, Izzy could see Stede's arm was bent around Ed's shoulder, his hand occasionally reaching up to rock Ed's drooped head into slow, almost imperceptible little circles. Aside from the rocking, Ed's body was remarkably still. It was a huge change from the tense, coiled menace that Ed's frame had carried earlier in the day. Now, he looked almost like a puppet with his strings cut, only responding to Stede's guidance. His arms rested gently besides his legs, lax and pliant.

Izzy could hear Bonnett speaking in a low, soothing voice near Ed's ear but he was too far to make out any words.

Ed had mentioned mesmerism to Izzy before. It was one of the many upperclass daliances that Bonnet had introduced him to- one of those many trifling hobbies that Izzy would never begin to understand the appeal of. Izzy even knew that Bonnet had used his skills on Ed previously. His captain confided that Bonnett's fancy mesmerism routine had helped him find quiet during his not-infrequent emotional storms, that it evened out his seemingly uncontrollable highs and lows. In Izzy's mind, he had pictured the whole thing looking quite comical- Bonnett with wiggly fingers staring daggers into Ed's eyes (maybe with rays), Edward swooning and fainting away in response like a lady whose corset was too tight.

This was quieter than what he had pictured. Gentle. Intimate, even. As he looked over at the scene, he had the sudden feeling that perhaps he shouldn't intrude.

He began to walk away when Stede turned his head and look directly at him. Izzy froze for a moment, unsure what to do. Stede quietly waved him over to where the couple was sitting.

As Izzy approached, he began to get a closer look at Ed's face. His eyes were closed and his face relaxed. His chest slowly rose and fell with each breath. As he come closer, he noticed Ed's eyes were making little flickers underneath his eyelids like he was dreaming.

Izzy wondered what dreams were happening below those lids.

Ed's brows furrowed a bit as Izzy came closer, picking up the noise.

Stede stroked a reassuring hand through his hair. He spoke in his ear, this time loud enough so Izzy could hear: "Shhhhhhh sweetness. It's OK. Relax. You're not in charge right now, remember? Just rest."

Ed's expression immediately cleared. He let held breath with a sigh.

"Izzy's here," Stede continued. "He and I are going to have a chat for a bit. But you don't have to pay attention to that right now, ok? Just drift. Why don't you see how deep you can count yourself down for me while we talk? I'll be right here. I'll touch your leg when it's time for you to listen to me again, ok?"

Ed gave a slight, dreamy nod. His lips barely moved as he began to count silently.

Seemingly satisfied, Stede gestured for Izzy to sit and moved over closer to him.

Izzy sat down, still staring at Ed's lax face. Somehow that by itself was just fascinating. Ed seemed so vulnerable and bare right now. Izzy wasn't sure if he should feel honored or spooked.

"He had a bad day," Stede said gently, nodding over to their entranced boyfriend. "You know how he gets. He needed out of his head for a bit."

Izzy DID understand how Ed got- probably more than his dandyish captain ever would. Hopefully more that Stede ever would, he corrected himself. Ed had certainly told his other boyfriend at least a bit about the hurricane that had been his and Izzy's relationship in the past. When times were bad, they had only known how to take their energy out on each other. They bit and snarled and scratched at one another just to drown out all the noise inside. Izzy had always assumed Ed had NEEDED all of that- needed to hurt and make Izzy suffer the same way that Izzy needed to hurt and suffer for him. That's how they worked. That's who they were together.

Since arriving on the Revenge, though, Izzy had seen more and more of the hidden soft side of Blackbeard. The side that enjoyed fancy clothes and fine foods. The side that kissed Stede's cheek sweetly when he didn't think anyone else was looking. The side that, even now, sat loose and drifting and unguarded while his two boyfriends stayed by him and had a chat.

"Can he hear us?" Izzy asked Stede, curiously.

Stede smiled. "He can hear us, he's just..focused elsewhere right now. Mesmerism's not a magic spell, it's more like- a nice version of where Ed's brain goes when he's navigating. Or how he is when he's trying to sniff out a storm."

Izzy was familiar with his captain's tendency to tune everything out while trying to read the sea. He pictured the absolute, unshakeable concentration of his focused gaze. "Only with nice, clear skies?"

Stede nodded. "Only with nice clear skies." He looked fondly at Ed's dreaming face. "No rain. Nothing to worry about right now." He had dropped into a lighter, dreamy tone- and for a moment, Izzy wasn't sure if he was still speaking to Ed or Izzy or even somehow mesmerizing himself.

Izzy had seen many things in his travels. He once heard a street charlatan talk about mesmerism- saying mesmerism somehow balanced out a person's magnetic forces (y'know- whatever magnetic forces were). He wasn't one for all of Stede's little tricks but- he did understand about needing balance.

Izzy had initially misunderstood Ed's relationship to Stede. He worried that the gentleman pirate would make Ed weak. That he would seduce him away. That he would try to turn the great Blackbeard into one of Stede's fancy little gentleman friends. Izzy had been terrified there would be nothing left of the Ed that he loved after Stede was through.

But Ed was still Izzy's Ed, even now. He could still fight and outwit and outmaneuver anyone else on the sea. He would still protect his crew with all the fierceness of his notorious reputation. He and Izzy could still lose themselves in each other- in their old married couple bickering, in their fighting and fucking, in their indulgences of Ed's sadism and Izzy's corresponding masochism. It just- felt more controlled now. Izzy no longer wondered if Ed actually hated him or if he was just looking for someone convenient to break. He no longer worried that Blackbeard would maim him so badly that he couldn't look after the crew. Even when Ed hurt him now- and he WOULD still hurt him, Stede didn't magic that part away- Izzy was always rewarded with a kiss and some praise afterwards. "That's so good, Izzy. You did so well for me," he would say. Edward seemed so much stronger in these moments now- able to control his own fierceness and use it as a weapon- but also to hold Izzy as he fell apart for him.

Izzy looked over at Ed's quiet countenance- so different than before. It was otherworldy seeing him this serene and distant. He had a sudden desire to protect this version of Ed- Stede's gentle Ed. To keep him safe. A mad, possessive impulse made it to Izzy's mouth before he could stop it.

"Can I touch him?" he asked. "Like this?"

Stede looked surprised. "By touch, do you mean....?"

"His face, Bonnet" Izzy replied, snarkily. "Or his hand or something. His hair. Not going to wank him off on the deck, now am I?"

Stede bit back a laugh. He leaned over to gently touch Ed's leg.

Ed reacted with an almost imperceptible startle before gently settling- serene like the moon going back behind a cloud.

"Shhh- that's OK, love, you can stay relaxed. Good," Stede soothed. "Izzy was wondering if he could touch you while you're in trance. Would that be OK?"

Ed took a moment to respond, as though the words were reaching him from a great distance. Then he nodded his assent.

Stede smiled back at Izzy, reassuringly. Izzy took a breath- then reached over to slowly stroke Ed's hair.

His fearsome Blackbeard smiled in return to the gesture- giving a happy little murmur. He slightly leaned his head in. Just like an affectionate kitten, Izzy thought.

"Good," soothed Bonnet at Ed. "I bet that feels nice."

Izzy grinned too, feeling oddly proud to be trusted with this quiet moment. He and Ed had never been conventional. Maybe it was OK that Ed and Stede weren't either. Maybe it was ok that their relationships were so different- that they saw such different aspects of the same person.

Maybe it was all ok.

Maybe it all balanced.

They sat quietly for a long moment on the deck, letting the peace of the atmosphere soothe them.

Gradually Stede stirred. "Izzy- I forgot to ask: Did the men send you? Were they looking for us?"

"There's no emergency, they were just curious where you were," replied Izzy.

Stede nodded. "We should probably get back, then. Or at least get off deck. Love," he said, moving his voice back into that hypnotic tone. He touched Ed's leg to refocus him. "Are you ready to come up out of trance for me?"

Ed took a deep breath and nodded.

"Good, I'll count to 5 then. It's just to guide you- I know you know how to come up at your own pace. Bring back any of this peace and calm that you want with you, ok?"

Stede started counting- his voice slowly gaining energy as he reminded Ed to connect back with his body and helped him reorient to the ship. It all didn't seem particularly magical to Izzy- but then again he rarely tried to understand Bonnet's ways anyway. Ed finally blinked his eyes open when Stede reached 5.

He blinked a few more times, adjusting. Then, his gaze lost it's bleariness as he looked adoringly up at Stede.

"Hi, there," said Stede, smiling gently. "Back with us, love?"

"Mmmmph mostly," said Ed, scritching his beard and stretching to rouse himself. He looked over at Izzy as though reminding himself he was there and smiled. "Heya, Izz!" Ed leaned up to kiss him.

Izzy grinned into their kiss. "Heya, Captain. Didn't want to interrupt your little daydream session. Crew was just looking for you."

"Ah, we missed dinner!" exclaimed Stede. "I should have asked Roach for..."

"Provisions for planning raids, I heard," smirked Izzy. "Yes, we're all very snowed by your clever euphemisms."

"Fuck provisions, I could eat a horse," said Ed. He practically bounced up and put an arm around both of his boyfriends. "C'mon, let's get some grub!"

Helpless to his whims as always, both of his partners joyfully followed him to dinner.

Fanfic is new to me so would love some thoughts! Also this is unbeta'd so will love you forever if you would point out spelling/grammar mistakes or if there's unclear writing. I'm considering posting this to AO3 but- don't want to embarrass myself in front of the REAL fanfic writers, you know? Feedback welcomed!

Tagging @mentat101posts and @thekinkycocktailclub .If you want to be tagged in these, just lmk!

Tagging @darthkyra @linnybeenaughty @pearlqueensposts @thiskenisftm @deeperforme because they wanted OFMD hypnokink and I blame/thank you for the inspiration to actually get this down!

[hom3landr]

For the lovely anon who sent me an ask that got promptly deleted on accident. They requested more angst and Homelander hurting the reader’s feelings during an argument. Hope you enjoy!

He hates this feeling, like he is a little boy again. Shame prickles at the corners of his eyes at the look of deep, aching, hurt on your face. It would have been better if you had fought back. He could have justified his words. Instead you look like a kicked puppy and he doesn’t know why it bothers him so much. This is what he wanted, wasn’t it? He had to teach you a lesson.

He can smell the salt of the tears that you refuse to let fall and his stomach turns over. He wanted you to be sorry. He didn’t want you to mope and look so damn…disappointed in him.

“John…why would you say that?” You ask weakly and it’s the last thing he could have expected. He knows the answer. He had wanted to hurt you and work his way under your skin. He wanted you to feel the way he felt when he saw you giggling with that new intern. He’d felt impotent and powerless because of course that fuck was working directly under Edgar and therefore out of reach of his wrath. He had to sit there and watch him lay a hand on your shoulder and now he was supposed to feel guilty for putting you in your place? It was unacceptable. Still, he finds it hard to reply around the lump in his throat.

He hates you right now. He hates you for making him feel weak. Your gaze burns through him like acid. Other people, he revels in their pain because they are beneath him. They are only pathetic underlings who think they can control him despite reeking of fear when he’s in their presence. He never had their esteem to begin with beyond empty platitudes.

You are different. Everything about you is so honest and grounded that it makes him feel grounded. He feels like a man instead of a lonely god forced to entertain the masses who should be worshiping him. He thought the feeling would grate on him but it’s the opposite. He feels free. It’s like that first big gulp of oxygen when he descends from the thinning air far above the city. You saw him, truly saw him, and you never feared him once.

He realizes now that maybe there are worse things, disappointment, apathy, the love fading right in front of him. His instinct is to hurt you more for making him feel these things but he can’t.

“I didn’t actually mean it.” He responds, something embarrassingly close to an apology. It works somewhat, you sigh and break your gaze. Without your laser sharp focus, he feels steadier. He needs to gain the upper hand. “You really need to stop letting any old intern put their hands all over you. It makes you look like a slut.”

When you meet his gaze again, you’re just annoyed. He’s relieved, he can handle this.

“Is that what this is about? If something makes you uncomfortable then you can just tell me before you lash out. I can’t read minds.” You reply, exasperated. You take a moment to rub the dampness from your eyes before taking his hand in yours. “For the record, they were showing me pictures of their kids. I can promise the conversation leaned more towards diapers than anything salacious.”

“I know. I heard.” He confesses and you physically fight to not roll your eyes.

“You have nothing to worry about. I’ll just let them know to give me a little personal space in the future. Does that sound ok?” You ask with a weary smile. You’re being polite for his benefit because your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes. You’re still upset with him and he doesn’t like it. So, despite the fact that he very much is not ok with it, he nods. He’ll just find a way to get rid of the creep later. You don’t have to know.

“Thank you.” You reply and your eyes are slightly brighter than they were previously.

[thecameronchronicles]

Guessing Game

TW: Suggestive conversation. Hints at sex. Language. 

SUMMARY: The pogues try to figure just who it is you’ve been dating this last summer that’s made you this happy…

WORD COUNT: 900

REQUESTED Anonymous asked:

Can I request pls JJ x Reader, where the pogues guess the new guy that the reader is seeing because they are bored. The reader gives lies and key details to throw them off. Even Sarah joins in, plus including JJ, himself too to just spice things up.. asking you questions about this mystery person. Until they finally connect the dots.. looking back at how they couldn’t see it. Thank you so much, love your writing.

Guessing Game

"Okay, seriously? Ever since the beginning of this summer, you're walking around like you have tacs under your feet, smiling-obviously it's about a boy...spill..." Sarah asked you as you hid your phone from view, a flirtatious text shielded from any prying eyes. But also a text that made you flash a look of warning to its sender, a blonde hair boy, all to pleased with himself for the dirty promise made from his eager fingertips, sitting directly across from you.  

"Why does it have to be about a boy?" Kiara shot back. "Maybe she is just enjoying summer..." 

"No.. that blush...the giddiness...the hiding the phone...and don't think I haven't noticed you showing up in clothes two days old..." 

"I don't think he'd like me to say-" 

"Well now we have to know." JJ teased, as if to challenge you to a silent game. 

"Is he from The Outer Banks?" 

"Born and raised." You answered as the girls narrowed their eyes. 

"Kook or pogue?" 

"Complete pogue...Although he wouldn’t mind going ‘full kook’, I’m sure…" 

"Can't be half bad then..." JJ added. 

"Oh, he's bad..." The girls giggled as Pope and John B silenced their soured expressions, adding their own questions out of boredom. 

"Brunette?" Pope inquired.

"No." 

"Can he surf?" John B added. 

"He thinks he can." You answered. 

"Better than me?" 

"Isn't everyone?" You purposely teased despite the fact that JJ was a master against the waves. Controlled motions of his hips, something you knew well. 

"Is he the best you've ever had?" 

You paused. "He likes to think so..." The narrow of JJ's eyes were caught in your peripheral vision as you continued to smirk. 

"Does his name start with a vowel?" Pope asked a carefully curated question as this continued for the better part of the hour as JJ had his eyes more narrowed then they had been their usual wide expression from your veiled teasing. But going on the second hour, the girls were now more intrigued as the boys lost interest as the conversation turned more erotic. 

"Is he big?" Sarah asked with a raised brow. 

You shrugged, hiding a wide grin before he smirked in the way your eyes flashed to him. 

"Better question...does he know how to use it?" JJ added as you looked him dead in the eye. 

"Doesn't even need to. I could come with just his kiss if he willed it..." 

"Jesus..." JJ gripped the chair at the thought, shifting his shorts to hide his erection, as your bold words brought a blush on every expression also on earshot. You licked your lips with pride, doing so slowly to remind him just what he was in for the second those doors came to a close.

“Okay, so he’s from here…” The girls began to accumulate all of the clues as you kept your eyes to JJ, your lustful irises lowering and coming back to a rise with the same come hither look while ignoring the words circling you. His brow cocked as you bit your bottom lip when looking to his seam, his eyes now cementing on your thighs as you uncrossed and reconnected your legs as he scoffed. 

“They better hurry the fuck up or they’re gonna know who’s making you act like this, princess…” He texted as Kiara suddenly noticed the way you looked at each other. 

“Oh my God, it’s JJ!”

Sarah’s mouth fell open before her eyes squeezed nearly closed. “But he didn’t go to The Kook Academy…”

“Yeah…or have a tattoo…” Kiara added. 

“I couldn’t be honest, you’d know and I didn’t know if he wanted you to…” You confessed as he shrugged. 

“Well how long has it been happening?”

“Enough with the inquisition!”John B groaned, “It’s time to eat…” He pulled everyone towards Pope’s summer salad as you waited at the counter, feeling a familiar set of hands make their way to your hips. 

“JJ…”

“They know now, princess…Might as well prove all those dirty little answers of yours true…” You were suddenly wrapped around him, thighs beneath his hands, before you were taken into the bedroom. 

Meanwhile, Sarah, John B, Pope, Kiara, and Cleo all looked at each other in complete bewilderment. 

“How the hell did we miss that?”

“Doesn’t help she lied at the answers…” Pope shrugged. 

“But the way they’ve always looked at each other should have been our first indication!” Sarah berated herself for being ‘oblivious’ as you would go on to prove one of the answers true over all others. 

He was the best you ever had, something validated as he endorsed you to speak those very words from behind that bedroom door, sending everyone to blush while you and JJ relished in the fact you no longer had to be quiet or secret as there was nothing else left to guess…

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae @camilynn @bethoconnor @pankhoeforlife @pankowperfection

[obxsummer]

Freedom // Ghost of You

summary: escaping ward cameron felt like an impossible task, especially when he had you right where he wanted you. that is, until wheezie cameron flips an uno reverse card and holy shit, john b's coming home.

warnings: violence, injuries, severe depression, anxiety attacks a/n: the whole legal situation is a bit of a stretch bc i suck at legality terms and such so, it's a bit fictional here just a heads up

navigation -- series masterlist

If you thought Rafe Cameron was your nightmare, Ward Cameron was your personal hell. Not only were you back in the same room, but your idea of privacy had been thrown out the door completely. There were cameras in your room, save the bathroom where it would get completely unethical, but any hope of a late night sneak out with the new generators and security was beyond possible. 

Your dad used to always say it was best to never say you’ve hit rock bottom because you can always go lower. This moment right here, was your lower. Ward Cameron pulled you into his office next door with no explanation until he smacked a pile of papers in front of you.

“You’re testifying against John B, in court, tomorrow.”

Laughter followed the statement and you couldn’t even stop yourself. It turned hysterical seconds later when you realized he was serious. “You’re fucking delusional if you think I’m going to testify under oath against my brother.”

Ward’s expression turned even colder if possible. “You will. You will because I have insiders who will make sure his life ends if you don’t.” He slid a newspaper towards you with your brother’s face front and center. The headline in big letters read: “INMATE ATTACKED IN CUSTODY”. Your stomach sank at the letters before Ward pulled it from your grasp before you could read any further. You were none the wiser to know it was fake, moreso a telling of what would happen in a night, but it did Ward’s job of scaring the shit out of you. 

“I will make sure your brother does not walk out of that prison alive.”

“He’s gonna die regardless if I testify, do you realize that?” You stood up with anger, throwing a hand out in frustration. “My brother is facing life in prison because you’re a fucking murderer, Ward Cameron, and so is your son!”

Pressure came down heavy on the shoulder you had dislocated in defending John B from Deputy Thomas. In the rush of adrenaline, you hadn’t even noticed but Ward found out when you were brought back with an EMT report and a sling around your arm, and clearly, he was using it to your advantage.

“You testify, do you hear me? Or I will make sure it’s the last thing you do,” He whispered harshly as he pushed his fingers harder into your shoulder.

You gasped in pain, sinking back into the chair below you to remove his hand. You were so sick of crying but it seemed to happen everyday you were here. There was no escape no matter what you did, no peace of mind. 

“You’re real bold to think I already don’t want to die here, with you,” You sneered as you glared up at him. You refused to let this man think he had any influence on you after all he’s done. “You have taken everything from me. Everything. I don’t owe you shit.”

Ward shrugged in annoyance. “Maybe so, but I will make sure there is no chance that the Routledge name goes beyond that courtroom tomorrow, and I will make sure your friends regret every second they avenge you. That I promise.”

You shook your head softly. No matter what you said, Ward would find one way to make you feel threatened and you knew that, but you also knew he would follow through no matter what. It was a matter of playing your cards correctly and hoping you could pull it off. “Fine. I’ll testify, but then they would have to let JJ, Kie, Pope, and Sarah do it too and you have no control over what’s said on that stand.”

You could tell the frustration in his eyes was about to burst but you didn’t care. You wouldn’t risk interfering with evidence and lying in court to protect Ward Cameron for shit. He had taken everything from you and your family. You weren’t about to help him keep this false empire he claimed to control.

With a snide smirk, you watched as he slammed his desk organizers to the ground in anger. You were right, he knew that, so now what power did he hold? Now what could he do? You had him in the perfect spot and he was a little too far in over his head. 

“This isn’t over, Y/N. We’re leaving for court at 9:00 AM tomorrow and you will not be saying a single word to anyone while we’re there, do you understand?”

Standing up from the chair to storm past him, you rolled your eyes and flipped him off with your good arm. “Eat shit, Ward.” Moving quickly to get out of his presence, you slammed the door of your room shut, not even bothering to try and go anywhere else. Injured and out of your usual headspace, there wasn’t a chance you’d make it further than the front door. Your best bet was going to the court appearance tomorrow in hopes that Wheezie had made progress while you were hiding. 

--

The feeling of everyone’s eyes were heavy on you as you sat crammed between Ward and Rafe in the courtroom. JJ kept trying to meet your gaze but you refused to look up from your lap where you were nervously pulling at the seams of your sweater. Ward had basically pushed you out of the car and directly in the building despite the reporters outside and his 15 seconds of fame he was surely craving.

Your heart was in your throat the second you realized Ward was actually serious about you coming to court. You weren’t emotionally prepared to see your brother in this condition, nor were you ready to see your friends either. The tension in the air was almost suffocating as your legs bounced continuously beneath you out of anxiousness. 

The sound of the gavel hitting the stand had you choking on your breath as you looked up to see John B walking in the room. The bright orange jumpsuit was hard to miss as your brother stood behind the table next to a woman who you assumed was his lawyer. 

John B looked around the room with an exhausted gaze. He felt hopeless, for the first time in his life that nothing would save him from this. Seeing you, looking small and defeated in between the Camerons, he wanted to crumble right there. He promised, he had promised you that he wouldn’t let it happen again and here he was. Despite being in his current position, he had to do something.

“John Booker Routledge, pursuant to the North Carolina statute section 14, you are charged with murder in the first degree with aggravated circumstances. If convicted, the maximum sentence would be the death penalty.”

Your lungs were suddenly suffocating you at the notion that if there wasn’t proof John B didn’t kill Peterkin, that he could die. That he wouldn’t be here, and Ward Cameron would win. The world seemed to blur as conversation erupted in the courtroom.

“Your honor, he’s seventeen!” JJ’s voice rose above the rest as he got to his feet. Kiara tried to pull him away but the distress was evident. “He’s seventeen! Are you kidding me?”

Ward was quick to put a hand on your shoulder as they stood up to leave the room, directing you right past your friends. Fingers brushing JJ’s for a split second, his attention snapped to you instantly. He wasn’t about to lose another Routledge. “Y/N.” 

Ward pushed harder as JJ called your name again, Pope, Kie, and Sarah scrambling after him as you walked into the sunlight. You wanted to throw up at the horrible comments being thrown around you about your brother that were going in one ear and out the other. These people had no idea. They had no idea of who walked amongst them and who shot that gun that day.

“Mr. Cameron, I’m so sorry for what you and your family have gone through. Thank God the system works,” Some random man next to you spoke with Ward. You rolled your eyes, refusing to look away from the ground as you wrapped your arms around yourself for some form of comfort.

“Can you please shut up?” Kiara’s voice forced everyone to stop walking as she snapped. “Of course you think the system worked because it was made to protect you and people like you.”

The man almost laughed at her factual statement. “He’ll have his day in court. A jury will decide.”

Kiara wasn’t backing down though and kept pushing. “He shouldn’t even be in court. You should, because you’re a murderer!” She shouted, pointing a finger at Ward Cameron. “You have a lot of nerve showing up here, dragging Y/N to see her brother like that, after all you’ve done to their family.”

“I know you’re upset. I understand you’re upset, okay? I know he’s got you fooled. He’s got you all fooled.”

“No, I’m not just upset!” Kie rushed forward, ready to get into an altercation before Shoupe stepped in front of her, more chaos and yelling following. “There’s a reason your daughter’s sitting with us!”

Your ears were ringing as you looked between both groups. The arguing wasn't slowing down anytime soon. Your heart had yet to stop racing from the moment the death penalty was given and now, the sensory overload threatened to consume you whole. 

“Just shut up!” You finally screamed at the top of your lungs, voice cracking with the effort as it stunned everyone into silence. For once, Shoupe’s gaze was sympathetic as he looked at you. Sometimes you wondered if he ever noticed the difference in the fun person you used to be versus who you had turned into. 

Throwing your arms out, you slowly backed out of the Camerons grasp. “All of you! Shouting and bickering doesn’t make anyone less of a victim, for fuck’s sake! I’ve had it. The rumors are disgusting. The lies are even worse but at the end of the day, that’s my brother in there!” Your voice threatened to give out any second as you pointed towards the now empty courthouse. Tears were already dripping down your cheeks as you choked through a breath. “That’s my brother and everything, every little thing, has already been taken from us. He’s all I have left anymore. So I don’t want to hear your fake unwelcome sympathy for the liars you call the Camerons and all that they’ve “lost” nor do I want to hear this bullshit about the system working for my family because it has yet to work so far in the Pogues’ favor ever.”

“Until now.” Wheezie’s voice broke the heavy silence as you turned to look at her. The smirk on her face was triumphant and it made you nervous. She pulled a stack of papers from her backpack and handed them towards you with a smile. “Y/N Routledge, you’ve achieved emancipation. Your shift at The Wreck starts tomorrow at 9:00 AM under Mike Carrera and you’re free to return home.”

You looked at the papers shaking in your hands to see everything she had stated to be true. “Oh, my God. Wheezie!” Moving forward, you grasped the younger girl in the tightest hug possible. 

“What? What is this?” Ward barked out in anger as he looked at you and his youngest child. “Shoupe?”

The newly appointed sheriff sighed at the redirection of attention. “It’s true, Ward. Confirmation came across my desk this morning. She’s out of your custody.”

Letting go of Wheezie the tears of relief came pouring as JJ, Kie, and Pope attacked you with hugs. Sarah herself ran to her sister, pulling her into a tight embrace as you listened to Ward shout in anger. This was your chance. This was the moment you could change everything.

Your friends released you to look at the documents with their own eyes, the papers now in Pope’s hands as JJ pulled you into another hug. One hand tucked in your hair, the other rubbing your back, you realized this was the first real hug you’d had since John B disappeared. Nothing felt as emotional, moreso broken apologies until this one. 

Looking up from JJ’s shoulder, you threw up your middle finger to the man staring at you. “Like I said. Eat shit, Ward Cameron.”

--

Wheezie Cameron was a gift and the moment you stepped onto the Chateau porch, you swore you owed that girl the world. Ward was less than pleased but the moment Shoupe confirmed your freedom, you ran out of sight with your friends to Kie’s waiting car. 

Thunder boomed above you but you couldn’t even let the rain affect your mood. You were just so glad to be back home. The first thing you did was shower before finding one of Pope’s t-shirts in the mess of your bedroom to wear with some pajama shorts. Your shoulder was still sore but you couldn’t be bothered to care as you tossed the sling aside. A sliver of deja vu ran up your spine as you thought of your brother tossing his cast away after breaking his wrist without a care. Concern still lingered in the back of your mind for John B but if you were back full force, you knew you had a better chance of thinking clearly.

Walking back out to your friends, Kiara was the first one to reach out and pull you into her arms as you let out a deep breath. “Hi,” She whispered in your ear causing you to let out a small laugh before returning her greeting and squeezing her tightly. 

There was a weight lifted off your shoulders at the notion of freedom, of being released from something that’s caused so much pain for so long. You knew the emotional rollercoaster from here would be rough but at least you had people to help you through it.

Pope wrapped you in a hug next, pressing a soft kiss against your hair as he mumbled a welcome back in support. JJ stopped his anxious pacing to hold you tightly to his chest, the soft rocking movement making you tear up as you ran your fingers down the back of his worn t-shirt. He was slowly going crazy without you and John B but knowing he was one step closer to normalcy was like a breath of fresh, cool air on a humid day.

You took everyone by surprise when you reached for Sarah who stood sheepishly a few feet away. The blonde hesitantly moved forward until you closed the gap and hugged her tightly. You could feel her body shake in your grasp as she started sobbing. Emotions had been running wild since their return from Nassau and you had convinced yourself to bring peace to the situation as best as you could. It took a lot of almost undeserving empathy to forgive her for basically selling you and John B out to her dad, but when you think you won’t survive something, it’s hard to hold a heavy grudge.

“It’s okay,” You spoke just as she choked out an apology. “Sarah, it’s okay.”

She only seemed to cry harder and you refused to let go of her until she calmed down enough to breathe normally. Stepping away, she gave you a grateful smile to which you returned. You had a moment of realization that life is way too short to hate people with good intentions and Sarah wouldn’t directly harm any of you. She was just like you in so many ways - someone struggling to keep it together in the midst of blame and loss of family.

JJ’s hands were suddenly on your hips, pulling you until your back rested against his chest and he could comfortably wrap his arms around you to hold you close. Your hands came to grasp his arms gently as Sarah started the conversation back up. 

“I’m going to testify under oath. I was there. I just need to get ahold of Wheezie. Kie, do you have your phone?” She took the device that was handed to her. “Wheezie is the only other person that knows Rafe wasn’t home that day. I don’t know what else to do. I got us into this mess and I’m gonna do my best to get us out.”

JJ scoffed behind you, his action shaking your body lightly as Sarah stepped inside the house. “Wheezie? Yeah, that’ll work. She’s right about one thing. We gotta do something. Our boy is a PO-dub right now, okay? He’s held captive by the enemy right now, maybe even scheduled for execution. Are we just gonna sit here?”

The word drove a knife right through your throat as you pulled yourself from JJ’s grasp in shock. Hearing it, no matter how many times you did, was still just as shaking as the first time. You felt like throwing up as you sat down against the screen door.

“What’s the plan?” Kie barked back irritated. “We kidnap Shoupe?”

JJ shrugged. “Maybe. Like, that’s not the worst idea actually.”

“Oh, it’s not?”

“No!”

“That is actually the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s pretty bad,” Sarah quipped from around the corner.

JJ groaned loudly, “You know what, please just stay out of this. Okay. Pope, look. We’ve been doing everything your way and how has that been working out, huh?”

“Okay, okay. So what’s your plan? You gonna storm a jail, guns ablazing?” Pope retaliated. A headache was forming in the front of your skull as you listened to them shout back and forth. Pressing a palm against your forehead, you tried to breathe through the pressure building in your chest and throat as it threatened to choke you.

“Look Pope. All I’m trying to get you to understand is they got our boy. Are we just gonna sit here and do nothing? No! We’re gonna go get his ass. We’re gonna do something about it!”

JJ’s voice slowly dipped in and out of your head as you tried to blink your vision clear. Eyes closing harshly when that didn’t help, you placed your head in your hands and leaned against your knees. The world felt twisted and the chills running up and down your spine were turning prickly. Trying to force air in your lungs wasn’t helping in the slightest either and you just wished you would fall asleep where you were.

“Y/N!” Kie’s voice was foggy and you could barely feel her hands touching you. “Let go!”

You didn’t know what she was referring to, but you couldn’t move in the slightest. Everything was frozen, tight, and painful. Moving meant waking back up, it meant facing the reality that your brother was going to die and there was nothing you could do about it.

“Y/N let go, it’s gonna be okay.”

It’s gonna be okay.

It’s gonna be okay.

“Come on, baby bird! It’s gonna be okay!”

The sun was bright as it reflected off the water. The fluffy sand was hot beneath your toes and you cursed yourself for not wearing shoes. The surfboard in your arms was heavy and the decision to come to the beach suddenly felt wrong as you shifted in your spot.

“I’m serious, you’re gonna do great. Why would I lie to you?” John B was suddenly back in your line, board of his own in hand. His skin was clammy as he placed a hand on your shoulder, guiding you towards the water. “I promise, it’s gonna be okay. You’ll probably fall but don’t worry. I’m gonna be right here to help, and we’re gonna ride one in together. Just you wait.”

“Babe, you’ve gotta take a deep breath and relax. I’m right here.” 

Eyes snapping open, you jumped in your spot as your back slammed against the wall behind you. Your hands released their grip from your head, crescent marks in your skin from how hard you were holding on. JJ’s blue eyes were the first thing you focused on before you were launching yourself up on shaky legs and storming into the house.

“Y/N! Wait!” 

Stumbling through the messy house, your hip caught the corner of the counter. Grunting at the impact, you ripped the fridge door open to grab a water bottle out before slamming the door harshly. Bodies followed you into the house but you didn’t bother to wait as you moved into your room and closed the door behind you. 

Facade crumbling, your back hit the door and slid down the worn wood. Tears were warm against your cheeks as you took a big breath, your chest heaving with the effort. You were exhausted. Mentally and physically exhausted beyond your limits. It felt like you could sleep for a month or maybe even more. Keeping up nonstop and trying to be strong for everyone wasn’t easy when all you wanted to do was collapse into pieces. 

This kind of suffocation was the kind that couldn’t be fixed with screaming in a pillow and trying to cry it out. This was the kind of suffocation that had you curious how long you could hold your breath underwater without coming back up. The kind that made you want to lay in bed and never get up for anything. 

You’ve been fighting a heavy battle for way, way too long and even though you were a strong person, the cracks had so much weight the foundation was shattering. You needed to heal, to sort through your shit instead of diving headfirst into even more situations. Rebuilding was hard but rebuilding with unknown terrain and rough weather was even harder.

You were trying to act like you could do this all without John B but it was hard. Your brother had been your biggest support system since you could remember, even before your dad disappeared. Now it was just you and your friends. As much as you loved them, they weren’t always as in tune with you as John B was. Sure, he was your brother and you got pissed at him often, but he grew up looking out for you and helping you do the things he wished someone helped him with. But now it was you, you and four other teens who were looking back at you for leadership that only your brother could provide. 

--

JJ was used to the inside of Kildare County’s Jail. He was no stranger to the loud banging, the ridiculous protocols, and the bland gray decor. Usually he was here to get his dad, but this time was different.​​ Instead of saying his dad’s name to the man at the front desk, he’s shouting, “I’m here to see John B. Routledge,” in a tone that you would scold him for. He knew he was being a dick and it would only get him in trouble but this is how JJ coped with things like this.

Officer Plumb led him through the halls as inmates cursed and yelled at him before he settled into the doorway of the visitor’s room. It was cold and dark but JJ’s eyes focused on the bright orange jumpsuit that covered his best friend. The door shut quietly as Plumb barked out a 10 minute warning as JJ took a seat at the lunch room style table.

He couldn’t stop the smile from forming on his face at the awkwardness in the room before he and John B broke out into laughter. “I thought it was gonna be me,” JJ admitted to break the silence.

John B gave a small nod. “I did too.”

“It was you.”

“Yeah. Welcome to my humble abode.”

JJ didn’t bother to glance around the room. “Yeah, when you said you had a new apartment, I had no idea.”

“How is she?”

JJ winced at the abrupt question. “Uhhh, Sarah? She’s uh… she’s fine. She misses you, alot. Ya know? Hard for her to see you in court the other day and-”

“I’m talking about Y/N, JJ,” John B clarified as he anxiously awaited the answer. He had been thinking of you nonstop since he saw you with the Camerons in the courtroom. “I’m… I’m glad Sarah’s with you guys and she’s okay but I… I need to know if Y/N’s okay.”

It was the question that had been asked a few too many times. Were you okay? You didn’t even know. JJ was terrified about whether you were okay. He hadn’t seen you leave your room except for a handful of times and that was two days ago. The guilt was beginning to gnaw at him that he set you off the way he did. 

“She’s um… she’s home. At the Chateau. Sarah’s sister got her emancipated right under Ward’s nose and she left with us that day after court. She’s not doing too hot, though.” He waved his hand dismissively. Not because he wasn’t worried about it, but because he didn’t need John B to stress about anything else. “I’ve got her, it’s just gonna take some time. You know?”

John B frowned at the lack of confirmation that you were doing fine. He knew he had a lot to fix in his relationship with you and he just really hoped he’d have the chance to do so. Unfortunately, the topic was dismissed as JJ started spewing off the real reason he came to visit John B - to break him out.

--

You kept to yourself for the next few days. JJ was on his escape jail escapade, Sarah was still trying to get anything from Wheezie, and Kie and Pope were busy doing their Kie/Pope Things. You took the time to clean your room, moving furniture and reorganizing basically the whole house. You had to occupy your mind with something, anything that would keep you from thinking about everything else. 

Starting your job at the Wreck was terrifying but Mr. Carerra was so helpful and understanding of your situation. You almost feared he would judge you because of the drama surrounding your family but he kept you behind the counter and out of the watchful eyes of tourons and sparse Kooks so you were grateful.

You had avoided going into John B’s room for as long as possible but it came to be the last room to clean and you had no choice. His room was messy but it brought you comfort as you stepped inside for the first time in months. Random surf supplies, worn t-shirts, and shoes crowded the ground. You maneuvered around it all, coming to take a seat on his bed. Just outside the window, you could see Kie, Pope, and JJ in the surf shack messing around pointlessly. They had tried a few times to talk to you to which you kept short and simple. You hoped they weren’t mad at you, but it was hard to take everyone’s pity stares.

Looking to your left, your eye caught the photo framed on John B’s nightstand. There weren’t very many photos of you, your brother, and your dad together except this one. It was your 12th birthday, the same one you received your surfboard for and you remembered all of your friends showing up for the occasion. Kiara had just received a disposable camera for Christmas and took photos of everything including your dad and brother hovering behind you as you blew out your candles. A small tear left your eye as you brushed specks of dust off the glass. If only you had both of them now.

“Bout time you cried over me.”

You would’ve bet money that you were hallucinating when you looked up and made eye contact with John Booker Routledge. You blinked a few times, convincing yourself that he was real before launching off his bed and into his awaiting arms. 

“Oh, my God, you’re back. You’re back.” Soft cries left your throat as you clutched him tightly, fingers tugging his shirt a little too hard. He recognized the mess of his room against the clean and reorganized house, knowing you probably struggled to bring yourself to do it. 

The energy in the Chateau was so positive as your friends celebrated in the kitchen with shotgunned beers. It took a bit of time before you let go of John B and regained your composure. His eyes drifted over the bruising of your shoulder that wasn’t hidden by your tank top. “We have a lot to talk about,” He mumbled.

You nodded, your own eyes scanning the bruises by his neck that had you flashing back to Ward’s newspaper he tossed in front of you. “Yeah, we do.”

“But first, let’s find Sarah Cameron.”

--

tags:

@strawberryfolks @jinxfirebolt18902 @lnnlove

navigation -- series masterlist

[rwprincess]

Broken (BenderxFem!Reader)

Masterlist

Word Count: 6.5k (ish)

Synopsis: Bender meets a Nouveau Riche girl at a party and is instantly smitten. He thought he had learned his lesson with Claire, that two classes clash, but he hopes it will be different with reader, as she seems as broken and lonely as him. Songfic for Broken by Lovelytheband.

CW:  Underage drinking/drugs; ‘psycho’  and ‘freak’ used in the pejorative sense; rich/preppy kids being jerks; references to familial abuse and fights; angst (feelings of being undeserving, break ups, purposeful verbal harm); happy-ish ending (but it feels somewhat unresolved to me?); 2nd and 3rd person POV shifts.

Shout out to @80strashbag for making me want to finally finish this fic.

They agreed that they could 'still be friends,' and Bender would be damned if he caved first. So, he put on an unaffected face as he entered the party Claire invited him to. He shoved down his reminiscent feelings of rejection from Claire regarding their break up, the embarrassment for still caring about it even though it was a month ago, and his nervousness at showing up at a place he truly did not belong. Claire apparently knew some rich kid who was living in his parents' guesthouse so he could pretend to be independent while still being technically under their roof. The security that the opulent had so that they could believe they had survival skills made him chuckle to himself; no way this kid ever spent a night on the street. John had been alone and responsible for himself since these kids were cutting their teeth on silver spoons and now they wanted to pretend to be like him. Being on your own isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

As he entered, no one seemed to pay him any mind, and for that he was grateful. He looked as displaced as he felt, but the booze already seemed to be flowing (and at a party like this, he expected that there would be much stronger drugs than alcohol being exchanged) and he was of no consequence.  He spotted Claire, some new bozo with his arm around her waist, showing her off as an accessory.  Might as well go say hi; the sooner he got it over with, the sooner he could leave. Although, as he looked around, he thought it might not be so bad. In addition to libations, there were a lot of pretty women around, presumably with parents to piss off the way he had done with the Standishes. He smirked, relishing the thought. 

So, he made nice and clung to Claire and, ugh….Kevin, as he didn't know anyone else. Luckily, a few shots down the hatch allowed him to be more amicable to the latter and he started loosening up a bit, maybe even enjoying himself despite Claire's ramblings about how the place was decorated so much like a New York apartment and isn't that great?  But the drinks caught up to him and he unceremoniously excused himself with a, "gotta take a piss." Claire rolled her eyes and waved him off in disgust, but at least he got a laugh from Kevin. As he sought to join the lengthy queue, his gaze landed on the most gorgeous, brilliant creature he had ever laid eyes on.  

 I met you late night, at a party

Some trust fund baby's 'Brooklyn loft'

He sidled up behind her, and for the first time in his life, smooth-talking John Bender was tongue-tied. Even inebriated or stoned off his ass, he was used to being clever. Witty. He'd built up enough immunity to substances to still maintain control of his faculties, generally.  But maybe it wasn't just the liquor that was affecting him. He drank in her beautiful features faster than the several shots of vodka he consumed prior. Shermer High wasn't that big, but he was sure he had never seen her before. Then again, maybe she went to some prep school that cost her parents more money than he'd see in a year; it was that type of party. His eyes raked over the curves of her body, the outfit perfectly and delicately draped over her frame to draw attention to the right places, although he was unconvinced that there was any feature of hers that wasn't in contention for 'best.' She was alone, unaccompanied in this line the same as he was, just looking forward. But she must have sensed his fixed stare, or maybe he was breathing too heavily or she really could hear his racing heartbeat as the organ thrummed against his rib cage (it was audible to him at least). And she looked over her shoulder, making eye contact with him. His eyes grew wide, afraid he had been caught. Bender had been caught engaging in so many infractions that he thought he was immune to feeling guilt over them anymore, but he was susceptible to that gaze. She surprised him with a kind, easy smile and turned to face him more. "Hi," she said softly, sweetly, and he was hooked.

"Hey," he replied back. He hoped it came off aloof enough to be cool, but not so much that it was dismissive. He craved her engagement, so he gestured to the line, "sucks, huh? You'd think it was a line at Disneyland."

She tilted her head, trying to read him before responding, "Definitely. An E-ticket ride, even."  He couldn't help but laugh, even though it was a stupid and kind of outdated joke, but it seemed truly original to him in that moment and he just wanted her to say more, even if she made him flustered.

By the bathroom, you said, "Let's talk"

But my confidence is wearing off

Their conversation flowed easier and more plentiful than the setup of kegs at the party as they shuffled forward in the line. He almost forgot why they were there and wanted to linger as she gestured to the open bathroom door, finally up for her turn. "Well, I should probably…" she trailed off, indicating why they had come here in the first place.

"No, yeah, definitely. Have at it." He said, and even though she chuckled, he felt like an idiot as she closed the door. He rubbed a hand over his face. Who encourages a hot girl to use the bathroom, he told himself in frustration.  When she exited, he awkwardly went in, hoping he'd spot her around later. However, she was standing outside the door, on the opposite wall of the hallway, waiting for him when he departed the small room.

"I hope it's not too weird but… I don't really know anybody here anymore. Can I stick with you?" He contained his excitement enough to remain cool, keep up the facade as usual.

"Ok, sure." He took her along and introduced her to Claire and 'the boy toy,' as he nicknamed him in only a pitch she could hear, close to her ear and in as neat a whisper as he could get in the loud environment. However, they didn't stick around. Bender wanted, no, needed to be the center of attention, to get to really know her, so they branched off and wandered outside so that they could exist as just the two of them. 

Well, these aren't my people, these aren't my friends

"I don't know, it's not really my scene." Bender gestured vaguely at the building,  "I don't think I've ever been to a place with a 'guesthouse' before,” he chuckled, trying to make the dig seem light.

"Honestly? Me either. This isn't my scene, I mean. I don't really like parties…or people." She laughed and the sound was addicting. "I'm actually really glad you suggested coming out here.  It's less…overwhelming."

"So then, what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?" He asked, waggling his eyebrows, eliciting another laugh. I could get used to that, he thought, even though truthfully he wondered how he ever lived without it.

"Well, long story short, my dad recently played the stock market well and wanted to make a lifestyle change with his good fortune."

"Ah, so you're one of those." Bender said before he had a chance to filter the thought. Of course, he had a deep-seated prejudice against the richies, but he suspected she had to be one initially, just from her being here. Although perhaps part of him hoped she was in a similar situation to him, after all, he was here and he was dirt-poor.

Luckily, she didn't take it in offense, "I guess so," she smiled. "But as much as my dad wants it,  I don't know, I feel like things haven't really changed. That I haven't changed. But that's absurd. Of course they have; look at what I'm wearing!" She laughed and Bender acted as though he hadn't already converted every stitch of her outfit to memory and pretended to examine it for the first time. "But it's not me, not really. He made me enroll in a new school and some of the girls have been nice, more or less. And that's why I'm here. I came with a girl named Stacy. I think she's friends of a friend with whoever lives here, but… she bailed right after I came out of the bathroom. Some newer and better party, I guess. Or she met someone, I don't really know."

"So, why did you stay? Why not just leave with her and go to the 'newer and better party'?" He asked.

"Well, like I said, not really my scene. A bigger party?" She scoffed, "no thank you." She looked down and continued quietly, as if afraid to make eye contact or too much sound, and Bender leaned forward, intent to hear the secret, "and, truthfully, I wanted to keep talking to you." That delivered a blow right to his heart, pow, full on knockout.

Bender was never good with emotions, or with being defeated, so he fell quiet for a moment, but then admitted, "I'm glad you stayed." She seemed to drop tension in her body, as if she were relieved. He hadn't expected either of their admissions to have much weight to them, but they opened a door and he let his guard down quickly. Even though John had a tendency to overshare when he was angry or feeling particularly theatrical, an intimate setting like this would usually make him clam up. He didn't usually describe his life to strangers, despite what the Breakfast Club might think. But here, under the inky sky dotted with bright white stars, he divulged himself. Y/N didn't feel like a stranger, though. And with each reveal, he didn't feel judgment, but rather, acceptance.

She hesitated a moment before cupping his face in both of her hands and confessing that she felt the same, that there was already a bond and a trust there that neither one could explain. 

She grabbed my face and that's when she said,

"I like that you're broken, broken like me

Maybe that makes me a fool

I like that you're lonely, lonely like me

I could be lonely with you"

They stayed there far too long, and yet it would never be enough. Bender felt like he could spend an eternity with her, listening to her stories and uncovering her past. However, she had some sort of curfew to meet. It seemed that, unlike his parents, hers actually gave a shit. He extended the trust and allowed her to give him a ride to his house.  Maybe he wanted to prove to himself that this was real…or that it wasn't. Either way, seeing the crap-shack hellhole that he lived in would be a test. She didn't run for the hills or even comment on it. Instead, she leaned over the console to kiss him goodnight. It ignited his lips in a way that he questioned why he had wasted so much time with any other girl before. The simple answer was that he didn't know what he was missing, that only because he did not know of her existence did he not fill this empty ache sooner.

After that night, he couldn’t let her go. Not that he would ever want to, but he was sure he was purely, physically incapable of doing so. He needed her presence the same way he needed to breathe; she gave him inspiration, life. He didn’t have the funds to take her out on proper dates or get her the things he felt she deserved, so he did the next best thing and gave himself to her, wholly and openly…something he had never gifted to another person before. She made the guard drop so easily and she, in kind, opened up to him. She spoke to him about family members and friends she’d lost. How her life had been uprooted by her father’s desires to play pretend and how she still felt like she didn’t fit in. She was completely lost in this new world and John felt like a tether to the old one.

“I feel like some sort of imposter, you know? I never have any idea what any of them are talking about. I’m not in the loop for the hottest trends and they’re always, like, condescending about it.”

“Those bitches,” Bender scoffed and she laughed melodically, a sound that always put him at ease.

“I don’t know if they even realize they’re doing it, or if it’s just so ingrained in their personalities at this point. I can’t imagine what it’s like being brought up that way. I’m sure you get that,” she looked to him for reassurance and he nodded, “I must seem like an alien to them. A real freak.” She let out a lamentable sigh and John shot right up, bracing her chin and along the expanse of her neck, gently coaxing her to look at him.

“No one could ever think that about you. So you don’t know what the in band is or if mini-skirts are going to still be fashionable in the fall,” he snorted dismissively at the thought, “So what? You’re smarter than they are, you have a kind heart, you know what actual hardship is…and you’re more beautiful than any of them could ever hope to be.” He leaned in, murmuring the last of these words, letting his lips brush against hers before he applied pressure to fully kiss her. “They’re probably just jealous. And if they’re not, they should be.” She giggled and returned his kiss, stretching her fingers over his shoulder and tugging on the leather jacket she found there, twisting it into her clutch and pulling him closer. He pulled back and looked deeply into her eyes.

There's something tragic, but almost pure

Think I could love you, but I'm not sure

Hers flicked back and forth between his warm rustic irises, trying to read his thoughts and verify his sincerity. She hadn’t known John long, but she believed she really knew him. He had been upfront about his typical nature, and Claire had confirmed that for her at one time. She told Y/N of how she met Bender and how he had made her cry and that they would fight. There was always passion between Bender and Claire in their relationship but it depended on the day, or rather the minute, whether it manifested positively or negatively. Looking at him now, hearing his words of adoration and never a slight in her direction, Y/N had trouble believing that that was true.

It was clear that John was hurting. He had a lot bottled up inside and never knew how to express it appropriately. The symbols of previous fights stayed behind, their scars running deep. Some were literal: cuts and bruises that she watched heal over time. Some were from others at school or people he encountered in the streets, but most were from home. The marks to his soul, however, were evident in his speech and his desperation to change his situation…but also in the way he talked to and about her. The dark notes were there when he spoke of school, of some man named Vernon who really had it out for him, and how he felt trapped and as though he’d never amount to more. However, there were rays of light, and she could see them now, there in those deep brown pools staring softly back at her. He wanted to do better, to be better for her. And, around her, he truly felt he was. Everything in her life had shifted, but looking into John’s eyes, she felt at home.

There's something wholesome, there's something sweet

Tucked in your eyes that I'd love to meet

Another party. At Claire’s insistence. And somehow, she roped both of you into it. This time, she invited the whole lot of you to a party you mentioned; she didn’t even know the hosts. 

“This girl, Theresa, she’s in my science class and she asked me to come to her birthday party but---” You started.

“Oh my God, we have to go.” Claire declared instantly, cutting you off.

“What?” You asked, surprised.

“You didn’t even let her finish,” John scoffed.

“C’mon, Y/N, this is the perfect opportunity to mix your circles. We could get to know them and they could get to know us. You could debut your relationship with John.” She said, giving a little wiggle of her shoulders to entice you into joining her excitement. Instead, you just grimaced at the idea of interacting with a bunch of people, particularly ones you hardly knew from school.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure that will be the talk of the town. I’m the number one debutante around here, after all.” John snorted at Claire, but she waved him off.

“I’m sure it’ll be fun! You never know what can or will happen. I mean, you two found each other at a party, so why not?”

“I don’t know, Claire. I think she was just asking to be nice because I was in earshot--”

“Or, more likely, to gobble up more presents,” Bender interjected.

“But I don’t really know her or if we’d get along.”

“That’s why you go! To see if they’re someone to hang out with! Come on, please? I’m dying socially. I feel like I haven’t been out in forever.” Claire whined and you instantly felt guilty for keeping your circle small and for being a homebody.

“Jesus, Claire, really?” John began, but you overlapped him.

“Okay,” you replied, defeated and deflated. Claire squealed in delight that you had agreed and John rolled his eyes.

Bender tried; he really did. He even asked Claire for fashion advice from the best pieces in his closet. He arrived at the party, hand-in-hand with you. You thought he looked handsome as ever, and could tell that he’d put in extra effort, ‘dressed-to-impress.’ Claire blended in perfectly, as did Kevin. Both of them were used to the theme of elite and knew the right style to portray themselves in. Claire had practically dressed you and even leant you complementary pieces of jewelry so that you could play the part as well. However, that just made Bender look and feel more out of place. Amongst the four of you, he definitely stood out and he could feel people’s cold, hard stares as your group walked past. 

Truthfully, you wanted to be able to get this over with as soon as possible, so you sought out the birthday-host quickly. “There she is! Let’s go say hi, drop off the gift…”

“What’s the rush?” Claire asked, as if your hesitation to come tonight wasn’t already obvious.

“I uh…just thought it would be rude not to let her know we came. And it’s awkward to carry around a gift bag all night,” you lied.

“I’m sure there’s a table set up somewhere to receive gifts,” Claire said.

“Oh, of course there is,” John said mockingly, “just like a bar mitzvah.”

“We should still make an appearance, right? I mean, make ourselves known?” You asked, unsteadily. 

“Yeah, yeah! That’s a good idea,” Kevin said, trying to be supportive. You weaved your way through the crowd and stood by until there was an appropriate moment in between well-wishes.

“Hi, Theresa! Happy birthday!” You said, standing with one hand wound tightly in John’s, squeezing it for some kind of reassurance and grounding, the other hand thrusting a gift bag in Theresa’s direction. She chuckled haughtily in response.

“Why, thank you. Who are…all these people?” She said in a passive-aggressive tone, and you realized that people brought a plus-one at most, generally. Claire quickly introduced herself, showing that she fit in and should be welcome in this world, although her attire had already communicated that. She also introduced Kevin, who shook hands and earned a warm smile for his cleancut handsomeness. Then her eyes shifted to John. “And who, pray tell, is this?” She asked, noticing you clutching onto him.

“Uh, hello. I’m John. Bender.” He said, almost stilted in his tone. He wanted to make a good impression for your sake, but he wasn’t sure how. He was out of place here.

“My boyfriend,” you added and Theresa giggled.

“I see. Well, nice to meet you all,” she replied in an insincere tone. It was about as fake as everything else in your new lifestyle. “I should be going, though. Plenty of people to see. I’m so glad you could make it, Y/N.” She flashed a fraudulent smile, perfect and pearly, before she left.

“Can we go now?” You whined to Claire, but she shook her head and pushed your shoulder, leading you deeper into the house.

“There’s gotta be something to drink,” Kevin said.

“And something to dance to. Come on!” Claire urged. 

You tried to ignore the glances, the gapes, the guffaws. You tried to convince yourself that you were imagining it, that your anxiety was getting the best of you; you were seeing things just because you didn’t want to be here. It was more difficult to pretend when someone approached your group. 

“Hey, I can’t get this bottle open.” He shouted over the din.

“I’m sorry?” You said, not sure if that was an appropriate response or what he was looking for.

“Well, I thought I’d come over here and ask if you had something to help me,” he turned to John, “You look like you have a bottle-opener or maybe a switchblade on you.” He said and his cronies behind him cackled, making it clear that you, or more accurately, John, were the butt of their joke.

“You’re goddamned right I do,” John growled in response, making the guy’s joyous expression fall. He clearly didn’t seriously think this, and suddenly his joke became a terrifying possibilty. He backed away in a hurry, his friends grouping around him with eyes that flickered back to John cautiously. They had a hushed buzz among them, discussing him more, and above that, you could hear ‘I think that’s John Bender. I’ve heard about him. He’s a real psycho.’

You felt the flex of John’s arm muscle under your hand. “Hey, they’re not worth it,” you reminded him, “let’s just go.” You started to usher him out, Claire and Kevin joining you expeditiously, while he looked back over his shoulder at the group and grappled with what he wanted to say and do. In the end, he settled on a mild middle finger. You were relieved that it wasn’t something much worse. You tried to calm him down and impress upon him that the people there were losers, that you didn’t care what they thought, but he seemed uneasy, even when you dropped him off at his house. You felt tears stinging in your eyes as you watched him walk up the cracked driveway; he meant so much to you and you hated seeing him put down.

These aren't my people, these aren't my friends

She grabbed my face and that's when she said

I like that you're broken, broken like me

Maybe that makes me a fool

I like that you're lonely, lonely like me

I could be lonely with you

He thought he had changed. He could feel the tendrils of alteration happening in his heart, in his life. He fell for you so easily and was so trusting…but that party reminded him of the undeniable: you both were from two different worlds. It was going to implode just like his and Claire’s relationship had. So, he did what he did best and put the walls back up, steeling himself for self-sabotage and promising himself that it would hurt less if he initiated it. 

It started with missed calls and denying dates. Half-assed excuses of having to work or having another detention. Putting distance between himself and you was his best bet. It was easier to resist you when he wasn’t looking at you or talking to you. He would have succeeded too, if you weren’t so determined to care about him enough to seek him out. He was shocked and a little upset to find you sitting outside his house. He hadn’t even noticed your car parked down the block; he wasn’t prepared for the confrontation and immediately withdrew into a guarded stance, balling his fists at his side.

“John,” you said, standing up from the curb in front of his house. “We need to talk. You can’t keep dodging me like this. That’s why I thought I’d finally come out here. Please.”

“There’s not much to say,” he sniffed, trying to act cool. In kind, you tried to act like those words didn’t strike you as harshly as they did.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I thought it would be pretty obvious when I stopped returning your calls. There’s nothing to say to you anymore.”

“How can you say that?”

“We’re two different people, Y/N. That party made that clear. Crys-tal.” 

“I’m sorry for how they acted, but I told you, John, I don’t care what they think.”

“Well I do,” he spat back, “I don’t need to be dragged along to dinner parties like some pet, or--or freakshow.

“Do you think I wanted that reaction for you? That I’m showing you off for a laugh or something?” You asked, incensed. He couldn’t really think that, right? Surely he knew how you truly felt about him, how much you cared. But he gave a lazy shrug in response, refusing to meet your eyes.

“That’s your world now and there’s no part for me in it. Whether you agree with it or not. Just how it is.” 

“So, you’re just going to be blase about this? And say…I don’t know, what, that we’re done? Just because some idiot that neither of us knows or will ever see again said some shitty thing to you?” 

“Yeah, princess. I guess so.�� He started to brush past you, but you grabbed on to his wrist, lightly.

“Don’t you care?” You asked him softly, unable to hold back your tears any longer. As they wove broken paths down your face, Bender resisted the urge to wipe them away and to take it all back. This was what was for the best. So, he bucked up and swallowed hard.

“No. It was fun while it lasted, kid.” He pulled out of your grasp and stormed forward to his house. He wasn’t about to let you see him cry.

Life is not a love song that we like

We're all broken pieces floating by

Life is not a love song we can try

To fix our broken pieces one at a time

“He’s miserable without you. You’re all he talks about,” Claire said as you two were sat in the food court at the mall, pleading with you to try to resolve your relationship with John.

“That’s surprising. He was the one who left, who broke up with me,” you reminded her.

“That’s just what he’s like, Y/N.” Claire said and then sighed, “Look, I don’t get it, either. His logic, I mean. He does and says stupid shit like that all the time, to avoid being serious and honest.”

“He didn’t seem like he was joking to me,” you huffed. Claire wasn’t there that night; she didn’t understand the heartbreak. You were too hurt to magically ‘fix’ this, even though you wanted John back and wanted to believe that he felt the same way without you.

“No, that’s not what I meant. I just---John doesn’t know what it’s like to be loved, Y/N. He’s never known that, not really. I don’t think he knew what to do with it when it came from you. I think it scared him. Like…like he wasn’t good enough, like it wasn’t normal for you to care about him. But you two are so good together. I think he needs you. And you love him.”

You looked away, pushing your finger against your lower lashes, stifling the tears gathered there. You did love John and Claire wasn’t telling you some big secret. He was open about his family and how they treated him. How many relationships had ended in a fight or someone forgetting him. You just hadn’t thought of that being a factor in him leaving, that he was running and hiding from something unfamiliar. But you didn’t know what to do about it. Bender had cracked your heart in two and left you crying on a dusty curb in front of his house. 

“I don’t know, Claire. Maybe he’s right. Maybe we’re too different. Just not in the way he said. I can’t stop this feeling, this pain. Maybe we shouldn’t be together. How would I know he’s not going to run off again?” You asked and she had no reassuring answer for you, only a look filled with sympathy.

~*~*~

“You’re such a dumbass,” Claire told John bluntly.

“Well good morning to you too,” he grumbled back gruffly.

“I saw Y/N yesterday, John,” she clarified and his back stiffened.

“Oh.” He said flatly. No zinger from John Bender today.

“Yeah.” Claire nodded, and when he didn’t fill the silence, she continued, “You really hurt her, John.”

“That’s how it goes sometimes,” he muttered, taking no culpability.

“I know you don’t mean that. You never shut up about her. You don’t really want her gone. You especially don’t want her to suffer. And that’s why you’re a dumbass. Because you caused all of this, even though it isn’t what you want and it’s killing her.”

“You don’t get it, Claire. I mean, you should, but you don’t. So I’ll spell it out for you. I am not cut out for high society.” He dug his fingers into his chest, then gestured at her, “Exhibit A.”

“Just because we didn’t work out doesn’t mean it’s the same with her,” Claire rolled her eyes. “We fought all the time, John. Even when we met. But with Y/N… you’re so different with her. You should see yourself, how she impacts you.”

“I know exactly how she impacts me, thanks.” He started gritting his teeth. Cutting himself off from any other emotion and replacing it with anger, as always. “I have nothing to offer her in return,” he admitted.

“That’s not true, John,” Claire sighed pitifully, “you have yourself. Your humor, your love. She obviously misses you and feels the pain without you every day. It doesn’t matter if you’re not in the same tax-bracket or whatever. She loves you for you,” she poked a finger into his sternum, commandingly, “And you shouldn’t throw that all away.”

~*~*~

It never got easier, admitting that Claire was right; but Bender had to swallow his pride and do just that. He missed you, that much he was certain. But he also acquiesced to the idea that maybe she was right that you needed him, too. He couldn't fathom why; he never felt like he improved anyone's life, but Claire had said you were just as miserable in his absence, and a tiny shred of hope within himself begged him to believe her. 

So, that's what he was doing outside your house now, having taken two buses and walking several miles to get here. It didn't matter if he felt like he was going to collapse in a heap on your threshold, he just needed you to open the door…and prayed that you'd give him the chance to make things right, to get you back into his life. He mustered up the courage to knock, half-afraid that you wouldn't be the one to open the door, half-afraid that you would be. While he didn't think he was ready to meet your family, (he was prepared to make that sacrifice if you requested it),  he could just envision your proud, wealthy father turning him away in disgust; a punk like him would never be good enough for a daughter like you. 

Both fortunately and unfortunately, you opened the door and stood in shock; he was the last person you expected on your doorstep. At this point, you would have welcomed a pushy salesman or a religious zealot. Instead, you felt the scarred-over portions of your heart tear open anew. "John," you said weakly, but your surprise got the best of you. It was an automatic response. In turn, he pushed down the rushing sensation of how good it felt to hear you say his name again after all this time.

"Y/N, I know I fucked up. Royally. But if it's all right, I ---I want to talk. To make up for it."

"I don't know if you can," you said, cracking his heart. But yours was just as damaged and longed for him. He didn't know it, but you couldn't say no to him. You're not sure you ever could have; he'd had you since day one. "But you can come in anyway."

You sat down out back, a place which held so many particularly good memories before, but had been tainted in John's absence. He had nowhere to start. He acted tough and confident, but it was all just that: an act. And he knew that you already knew that. He didn't know how to 'sell himself' or make you believe he was worthy of another chance, especially because he wasn't sure he believed it himself.

"So, uh," he cleared his throat and his eyes darted around warily, fearing to connect with yours. "Claire said she saw you and that you wanted to talk to me."

"Imagine that. It's almost like I've called you a hundred times and told you that myself, right before you broke up with me." He winced at how bluntly you put it and wanted to dodge the feeling of guilt that hit him. But he couldn't run. You were worth it to stay, to try.

"I know. I'm sorry. I didn't know what to do then. Or now, really. I just--" he finally looked up and glancing at your face dissipated any hope he had at maintaining his composure. Tears pricked his eyes instantly and he was unable to blink them off, so they began to pool instead. "I have missed you every second since then. Since before then. I thought I was doing the right thing, that that would be better for you, but. But Claire said it's just as hard for you, too." He trailed off and swallowed hard, trying again to keep the tears at bay, and you let him sit with his silence for a moment before confirming.

"It is. I've missed you just as much. Maybe more, but you hurt me, John. And I know you know that. That was the whole point, wasn't it? To try to make me not want you anymore?" He nodded and waited for something along the lines of 'well guess what? It worked. I'm totally over you, now get the fuck out of my house,' but that didn't come. 

"It was exactly like that. That night at the party I--- I know you didn't care and you didn't see it that way, but it made me realize that I truly have nothing to offer you. All I'm ever good for in a relationship is for someone to get the thrill of dating a 'bad boy' or to piss off their parents."

"John," you cut him off, "it was never about pissing off my parents or making a statement. I liked you for you. You always saw me as I am, not what someone else wanted me to be. You saw the person lost in the shift between one life and another and--- and I thought we were the same. That you got that because you were like me. We're both broken in different ways and neither of us fit in anywhere, but we fit with each other, ya know? And…and when you left, it was like being all alone. I couldn't relate to anybody anymore because there's only one person who really, truly gets me, and that's you. That's what I get from it. That's what you have to offer: yourself and that connection. I never wanted anything else."

He took a moment to process that. "Y'know, no one's ever told me that I'm enough, before. They've always wanted me to be better, to be someone else. To change. I guess I just didn't know what to do when someone didn't expect that from me. It just didn't seem possible…like it should be some sort of trap. That's what I'm used to. I shouldn't have put that on you. I was just---scared. And I didn't think it would really hurt you. I mean, everyone else got along just fine without me. When I hurt someone, it doesn't last. It just pisses them off enough to get rid of me and to save themselves. They bounce right back. I didn't even consider --- anyway, that doesn't matter. I'm sorry. That I did that to you, that I left you alone." He began quaking, the tears refusing to be dammed anymore. He knew what that was like; he'd felt alone most of his life. Unless he was with you. He looked up to see your face mirroring his, just as broken-hearted without the other, but you gave him a faint smile underneath your tear-tracked cheeks. 

"Just don't do it again," the smile then dropped and your quivering voice was dangerously quiet, "I don't want to be without you again."

"I don't deserve you. Or another chance," Bender whispered back as you approached. He didn't want to sucker you in through pity. That wasn't why he was here.

"John, I just want you, how you always were to me. Can you do that?" You asked and he nodded, startled by you taking his hands, "then that's good enough. That's what I want, what I need. You just can't run away again when you're scared. I need you, John."

"I won't. Never again," he replied, sincerely. John Bender wasn't known as being a man of his word, but this was one promise that he never betrayed. 

I like that you're broken, broken like me

Maybe that makes me a fool

I like that you're lonely, lonely like me

I could be lonely with you

[palant1r]

What do you think would happen if Matsuda listened to Light and shot everyone in YellowBox?

This is the perfect opportunity to post a snippet I have that I still haven't found a fic for...

Ide and Matsuda went out on their second night back in Japan at some bar near NPA headquarters that Matsuda always forgot the name of, and five drinks in, Matsuda’s tongue got looser than his lips.

“I’ve been wondering,” he said, “why’d he want my help?”

Ide blinked. “What?”

Matsuda gestured ineffectually. “Y’know. Light, in the warehouse. The hell did he think I could do for him?” He shrugged his own question off. “Eh, he was probably just desperate…I mean, Takada was dead already and he begged for her, he really lost his mind.”

Ide thoughtfully leaned his chin on his hand with a little quirk to his lips. He was used to going back there by now, as Matsuda treaded those boards again, over and over till they wore to nothing beneath his feet. “Well, let’s walk through it. You’re in the warehouse. You’re siding with Light. What do you do?”

“Lidner first,” Matsuda said immediately. He could see the scene like it was before him. He wasn’t usually good at visualization, but that warehouse was always there. It was easier to see than dismiss.

“Lidner?”

“Smallest target, I’d want to get her before she could move. And she wasn’t distracted by Mikami. Then…then the other guy. Near’s other guy. Rester, that’s the name. I could probably get both of ‘em before one of you shot me, but only with one shot each. So they probably wouldn’t even die, not if they got an ambulance fast enough. But that would’ve given Light time to write Near’s name.” He takes a swig of his drink. “Mikami would try something, and Gevanni would stop him — let’s say that keeps him busy; Mikami was handcuffed, but never underestimate the strength of crazy. Aizawa would kill me. You would get Light, or maybe Mogi would. Gevanni would get Mikami under control. Then medical attention for Lidner and Rester. Three to five casualties. Kira loses.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Ide said, gesturing like a keynote speaker. “Near’s team is dead or occupied. You anticipate us drawing our weapons and pull out your second gun —“

“Ide, I just had the one gun.”

“You slide across the floor, firing with each weapon —“

“That’s not how it works! Dual wielding’s just a movie thing, I’d miss every shot —“

“Dropping Aizawa and Mogi first, then me.”

“C’mon, Ide, I’d hesitate! That would have given you time.”

“Mmmmm, I don’t think you would. You didn’t hesitate to shoot Light, right? Once you decide a shot needs to be fired, you fire it.”

“Okay, fine. I do some John Wick shit, Near’s team is dead, you’re all dead, it’s just me and Light. And Mikami, I guess.”

“Light picks up the notebook and writes both your names,” Ide said. “That’s what he hoped would happen.”

They looked at each other for a long moment. Then they burst out laughing, high and bubbling like champagne, Matsuda slapping Ide’s shoulder as if he could sap Ide’s strength for himself.

“Our imaginary Light watches too many movies,” Ide said.

“Yeah, man, no kidding. D’you know I taught him to shoot a handgun once? First time he fired it he dropped it. Took three days before I gave up.”

“Okay, seriously, though,” Ide said. Matsuda’s smile turned like he’d tasted a lemon. “I think Light knew he couldn’t kill everyone there, even with your help.”

“So why tell me to shoot you? Why not give up? Just the desperate ravings of a doomed man, or…”

Ide shook his head. The amber light of his drink scattered onto his face like a sunset, and for a brief moment he was the brightest thing in the room. “No, I think he was trying to win.”

“Hm?”

“I’m no Ryuuzaki,” Ide said. “I don’t know Light — never knew how he thought, not really. But…in the end, he was trying to justify himself. Trying to prove that he was right.” He swirled his drink, and the sunset turned to water. “If you’d sided with him, it would have proved something. He’d still have died, but he’d have died vindicated.”

“Hm. Neat theory, but you’re forgetting something.”

“What?”

“Light never gave a shit about what I thought.”

“Maybe not,” Ide said. “But in the end, what you believed meant everything.”

[menacing-menace-rat]

Platonic yandere justice league part 3 final

Part 1 Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman

Part 2 Aquaman and Green Lantern (John Stewart)

Warnings: kidnapping, stalking, the normal yandere shenanigans

The Flash

(this one borders on romantic but not sexual if that makes sense I have a hard time imagining him as a purely platonic yandere in any context.)

Your family were to Central City what the Waynes were to Gotham. Minus the double homicide 😬

Every citizen knew your name.

You have had many stalkers but none quite so enthusiastic as the city's own hero Flash.

It started playfully enough. He'd speed by you and back track just to say hello.

You were flattered at first. Such a busy important hero taking time to stop and chat.

The public loved it as well.

And for a little while you didn't mind his attention. He was funny and sweet.

You did always have a soft spot for goofballs and they don't get much more goofy than him.

You even consider asking him out once or twice.

That was until your security cameras started to mess up.

A blur of red would plague your cameras every now and again.

Small things would go missing in your home. Never anything expensive or important.

A hairbrush or a used night shirt.

When you slowed the footage you could hardly make out the familiar shape of your hero friend.

It wasn't enough to take to the cops and you yourself wasn't even sure if it was him.

Just to be careful you cut contact with him.

This wasn't a good idea.

Now Flash is by far the most unorganized of the justice league yanderes. No surprise there.

He'd have next to no self control.

If he feels like he should break in and "borrow" something of yours, he will.

If he feels like he's losing you he will just... stop that.

He'd take you to an abandoned warehouse he's fixed up. Somehow it still smells like a frat house thanks to him.

It would happen so fast you wouldn't have any clue what was going on.

One second you are walking home surrounded by bodyguards the next you are sitting in a warehouse chained to a wall.

He'd be so apologetic right away.

The regret is obvious.

He knew he couldn't just let you go now though.

He's isn't delusional enough not to see the problem here but he his arrogant enough to think maybe he can make you like him enough not to tell anyone.

The constant reassurance of "I'm not gonna hurt you!" Doesn't help anything.

He wasn't lying. He would rather die then be the cause of any kind of pain to you.

It's just that he's an idiot and has a hard time sounding convincing when he tells you this.

Thankfully this one is the easiest to get out of.

If you believe him you can just wait and earn his trust he will actually just let you go because again this was just a horrible mistake on his part.

Or you can ambush him. The man is super fast but he can still be knocked out easily enough if you get him from behind.

Flash is the most harmless and unpredictable yandere easily.

There is no guessing if he's lucid at any given moment.

I definitely think he and Green Lantern are tied for the safest yanderes though.

Over all a little scary but mostly harmless.

Martian Manhunter

You were an ER doctor working the night shift when you first met.

He was brought in disguised as a human.

He'd been knocked out and found under a bridge.

It it wasn't long before you found out he was something different.

Of course you knew aliens lived among you but it's a whole other thing to be face to face with one.

You all had no way of knowing this was Martian Manhunter a well known hero in the city.

Your coworkers wanted to turn him to the authorities.

You were always more open minded then most. You couldn't let this innocent man be taken a away and have God knows what done to him.

When you were alone you got him in a wheelchair and snuck him home to keep him safe.

It wasn't long after he woke up and transformed into the semi familiar form of Martian Manhunter.

You explained yourself.

He thought it while unnecessary it was a kind act.

Reading your mind he could see how kind and gentle you really were.

He was always fond of humans and their complex emotions and peculiar ways but something about you he really liked.

After thanking you he left.

Immediately he noticed how he couldn't stop thinking about you.

He didn't find you attractive. He wasn't attracted to humans in kind of romantic or sexual way.

But like humans, Martians could find platonic love just as fulfilling and even intoxicating.

He was well aware how much he thought about you wasn't normal. But what harm could it do?

Martians are rarely impulsive.

He would only kidnap you as an last resort.

He didn't need to kidnap you to keep you safe.

He would take the form of neighbors and coworkers to keep an eye on you.

While in these forms he'd scan the minds of everyone around to make sure no one was planning on doing any harm to you.

More then once he has had to dispose of some ill intentioned men on your nightly walks home.

He just walked watching you.

He'd even turn into a fly and watch you in your home.

Watching you made him feel so human.

In the time he spent around you he has learned so much about humanity and what it means to be human.

Eventually he would learn all he could form this level of contact and new he has to move to face to face meeting.

He'd come to your door one evening with a baked good to say thank you again.

Seemingly very naturally to you a friendship formed.

He'd leave your apartment and come right back in as some kind of bug.

J'onn unlike most of the others could be happy with this kind of relationship.

He above all else is very empathetic. He knows how traumatic it would be to you to be taken away from your life.

That being said if you ever found out about his unconventional form friendship he'd have to take you.

He couldn't let you leave his life.

He'd try to wipe your mind.

To make you forget his mistakes .

You would be his friend for the rest of your life.

Whether you knew it or not.

Sorry this took so long. I posted it but my tumbler crashed and I lost all my progress. I got discouraged for a bit. Sorry if this one isn't as good. I was rushed and panicked it would get eaten again.

[theatrediva1975]

Redemption | Chapter 5

BACK IN BLACK

As they started the drive back to the house, Sam finally felt herself starting to calm down, finally compartmentalizing as she had been taught.  Her breathing under control, her heart rate slower, Sam took a deep breath and watched the beautiful scenery of the island go by.  She also started formulating a plan on what she needed to do moving forward.    

Mae glanced over at her passenger.  She knew Sam was up to something in that brain of hers.  Hoping to distract her a little longer, hoping she could stop ‘crazy’ from happening the minute they stepped over the threshold, Mae pondered what she could say to catch Sam off guard.  Throw her a little.  So, she went for the jugular.

“He looked damn good,” Mae said, with a little growl in her voice.

Sam barked out a laugh that ended up in a snort, causing both women to bust out laughing.  “Yeah.  Yeah, he did,” Sam conceded, quietly.  “He definitely filled out those dress blues nicely.”  

“I noticed you guys didn’t talk much,” she fished.

“Nah.  It’s okay.  I did what I came to do,” Sam replied.  The hint of sadness in her voice was different than Mae had heard the past few days.  This sadness had nothing to do with John and everything to do with Steve.  Mae had been there for the four years between the deaths of the Devereauxs and Doris McGarrett.  She had seen what an utter handful Sam and Steve had been together, but they were also so loyal to each other, always looking out for each other, always there when the other needed it.  Mae knew how heartbroken Sam had been when Steve left, when John sent him away.  To Mae, it seemed as if it was a loss Sam never truly got over.

Seeing Sam slip back into a melancholy she was scared would start to consume her, Mae went for another distraction.  “How about we stop at Kimo’s for lunch?  I think we could use the sustenance,” Mae said.

“Sure, Mae, that sounds good,” Sam responded with a small smile.

After lunch at their favorite little café, Mae suggested taking a walk along the beach, once again stalling for time to get Sam’s frame of mind straight.   “Mae, do I really look like I’m in beach walking attire?” Sam asked with a lopsided grin, gesturing to the rather warm dress uniform she was still wearing.  Mae acquiesced. 

“Ah, you’re right.  Sorry.  I imagine you’re a little itchy and probably about to keel over from the heat stroke,” Mae joked.

“Um, yep, pretty accurate,” Sam chuckled as she looped her left arm through Mae’s right.  They made their way to the car and headed for home.

Sam once again couldn’t keep her eyes off the house next door as they passed.  She had come up with a few ideas while at lunch, in between Mae’s constant barrage of stories of old family friends.  Sam knew Mae was trying to distract her.  Sam also knew that Mae knew it wasn’t going to work but she was going to try anyway.  Just another reason Sam loved and revered her Aunt Mae.  The woman didn’t know when to quit, when to take no for an answer and she absolutely refused to give up, no matter what.  I guess that’s where I get it from, Sam thought with a smile.

Once inside the house, Sam made her way upstairs, making excuses about wanting to get changed and rest.  Mae knew better but she was also keenly aware of the fact that not one single thing she said or did was going to change Sam’s mind.  Mae just hoped she didn’t have to arrange to have bail money at the ready before the afternoon was over.

“Well sweetie, if you’re going to lie down for a bit, I think I’m going to make some tea and follow suit, if you don’t mind.  I’m sure if you can’t rest, you’ll find something…constructive to do.”

Sam snickered.  Mae Devereaux would have made a good agent.  Hmm, maybe she had been at some point, given all the traveling she did when Sam was young. I never thought of running her through any databases, Sam thought, only half-jokingly.  But, for the moment, she simply said, “I understand.  It’s been a rough morning.  Get some rest.”  

Mae smiled at her and went into the kitchen, shaking her head and sighing. 

Sam climbed the stairs to her room and peeled off the blazing hot uniform.  Pulling her hair out of the tight, headache-inducing French twist, she put it back into a ponytail.  After throwing on a black ensemble of a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, she changed into her favorite pair of matching boots.  Back in black, Sam thought as she looked in the mirror.  After running an inventory of what she needed through her head, she changed her mind and stripped off the jeans for a more practical pair of cargo pants.  She loaded them up with her lock picks, phone for photos, a small flashlight, and she grabbed her badge just to be safe.  Sliding her Glock into the back of her waistband, pulling her t-shirt over the outline of the gun, she waited until she heard Mae close her door before she left her own room.  Sam quietly went downstairs and walked into the oversized pantry, pulling out a few pairs of gloves.  Mae loved to cook and ate her steak as bloody as the next guy, but she was completely grossed out by actually having to touch raw meat.  Sam said a silent thanks that she always had a bulk supply of food grade, nitrile gloves stashed away.  They were nearly identical to the black latex gloves she had used at crime scenes over the years.

Sam walked out the back French doors, making a beeline for the edge of the fence that separated the Devereaux property from the McGarrett’s.  Sam stuck her head around and made sure the yard was empty and quietly made her way along the fence line, ducking under the police tape on the lanai and knelt at the back door, pulling on the gloves.  She made quick work of picking the lock, silently stepping into the home she knew like the back of her hand.  After all, she had basically grown up in this house, spending just as much time there as her own.

Taking a deep breath, Sam advanced into the den.  A sob stuck in her throat as she stood in the space where John, the man who had saved her life, had lost his in one of the ugliest, most violent of ways.  She felt cold standing there, as if with his death, the warmth that had always wrapped itself around her had died, too.  What had once been her safe space, now, wasn’t.  Victor Hesse took that away.  It was no more evident than the moment Sam’s eyes settled on the wall.  Like a punch to the gut, a wave of nausea swept over Sam as she stared at the blood.  John’s blood.  Before any further invasive thoughts sprung to mind, she was spared by a noise coming from the garage.  Like a flip of a switch, Sam was back in complete control of her faculties.  She yanked off her gloves, stuffed them in her pocket and grabbed her Glock out of her waistband.  

Sam quietly released the safety on the gun and stealthily made her way to the garage door.  Listening carefully, it sounded as though whoever was in the garage was around the Marquis.  She heard the rustle of the car cover being removed.  Man, John loved that car.  She had spent hours with him in the garage after Munich.  John had dragged her into the project, believing that somehow, some way, it would help Sam’s healing begin.  And as usual, John had been right.  They continued to work on the car when Sam would come home for holidays or vacations from LA, hoping they would be able to take it out at some point.  

Shaking the newest flood of memories from her mind to focus on the intruder on the other side of the door, Sam carefully turned the knob.  Praying the door wouldn’t squeak and give away the element of surprise, she slowly swept her eyes over the space.  While the afternoon sunlight poured through the small window on the opposite wall, the garage was still dimly lit.  It took a second for her eyes to focus and once they did, she located the figure of a man crouching down by the work bench. He had his back to her.  Moving in on the target, she was taken by surprise when he swung around, grabbed her and in one swift move, pinned her face first against the Marquis.  Sam countered just as fast and reversed the pin, sticking the muzzle of her gun between the intruder’s eyes before recognition set in.

“Steve! You ass!”  Sam growled.

The surprise was evident on Steve’s face.  But then, for a second, it looked as though…he was having fun.  And sure enough, he gave her his best Cheshire cat grin.

“Good way to get yourself shot, you idiot,” Sam said haughtily as she placed her gun back in her waistband.

“Um, this is my father’s house, so a good way to get yourself shot,” Steve said as he showed her the gun in his hand.  “How the hell did you get in here?”

Sam bit the corner of her lip, as she always did when she got caught with her hand in the proverbial cookie jar.  Pondering how he would react, she just stuck her right hand into her pocket and held up her lock picks.  Steve’s eyebrow shot up.  Sam rolled her eyes.  “As I was planning on technically breaking and entering an active crime scene, I figured why implicate Mae by asking for her keys.”  Steve looked at her strangely for a brief instant when she said Mae had keys to his father’s house.  Then the SEAL mask was back in place.

The pair just stared at each other for a minute.  It wasn’t awkward, as Sam predicted it would be.  More, bittersweet, she thought.  Sam’s gaze softened and without thinking, grabbed the front of Steve’s shirt and pulled him into a hug, wrapping her arms around his neck.  She was slightly surprised when, without hesitation, Steve wrapped his muscular arms around her torso and hugged her back.  Tightly.

“I’m so sorry.”  Sam whispered, stroking the back of his head.

“Me too.” 

They held on for another moment before breaking the embrace, but remaining in each other’s personal space.  They just looked at each other for another moment before Sam broke the silence and said, “We need to talk.” 

“I know it’s been a long time, and with the way we left things…I wanted to reach out, Sam, really I did.  It’s just…” Steve struggled to find the right words.

“Steve,” she interrupted, placing her fingers on his lips.  It was an innocent gesture that turned into an intimate moment between them neither had been expecting.  Sam swallowed hard before removing her hand from his mouth, continuing.  “Yeah, I want to talk about that, too, but there are way more pressing matters we need to address.  First…”

“Sam, I swear to you, Mae is safe here.”  Steve knew Mae was the only family Sam had left and he would protect that with his life.  In hopes of reassuring her, he continued.  “I will personally see to it that she is watched and protected.  But I promise you, this will not touch her.”

Sam smiled sadly at Steve.  He really had no idea, did he?  Better than anyone, Sam knew he couldn’t promise that.  “So, you’re looking me in the eyes and telling me that Mae is safe?”

“Yes.”

“From Victor Hesse?”  Steve’s eyes widened slightly at Sam’s question, particularly the emphasis on Hesse’s name.  She continued, softly.  “Yeah, I know it was Victor Hesse.”  Tears threatened yet again but these were not tears of grief.  They were tears of fear, of rage.   

Sam could see in his eyes that he was fighting an internal war.  What was it, she wondered as he started to speak.  “You know about Hesse?”

“Yeah, Mac, I know it was Hesse,” Sam confessed.  Steve’s reaction to her childhood nickname for him quickly transformed from playful into one of surprise and something she didn’t quite recognize.  Perhaps it was fear.

“And Anton?” Steve cautiously asked.  “You know…”

“That he’s burning in the deepest layers of hell?  Yeah, I know,” Sam stopped short of saying the sick bastard’s name.  And that was all it took for a tear to escape.  Before either knew it, Steve lifted his hand to cup the side of her face, catching the tear as it slid down her cheek. Before she could stop herself, Sam allowed herself to melt a little into Steve.  Falling completely would not end well, she knew.  He’s a SEAL.  He was only here for a few days to wrap up John’s affairs and then he would go back to traipsing around the world, hunting bad guys while she got on a flight back to LA where she would do the same.  Taking a deep breath, hoping to diffuse the situation before it got to awkward, she spoke, breaking the spell with a silly, flippant question.

“So, didja miss me?”  Sam chuckled, pulling back slightly.  But it was also a sad query – had he ever thought about her?  About them?  Had he missed her, had he tried to contact her, had he even wanted to?  Sam would have settled for anything at this point, which if she was honest, made her feel like a silly little girl.  So, she was taken by complete surprise at his answer.    

“Every day, Sam.  Every damn day.”   The two briefly got lost in each other’s eyes.  Sam’s were full of surprise and bittersweet pain at Steve’s confession while Steve’s were filled with sorrow.  They had lost so much at such a young age, most of all they had lost each other.  He ran his thumb over her bottom lip as he leaned down…

“Hands up, don’t move!” 

Within the blink of an eye, Steve, Sam and some blonde ha’ole had drawn their weapons on each other and the two men engaged in a shouting match.  Sam just stared at Steve when she realized he had flipped her around behind him, in protection mode.

“Boys.”  More yelling.

“Boys!” Sam said, slightly louder.

Enough.  “HEY!!”  Sam yelled.  Silence.  “Hmm, ooh, thought. Why don’t we all show each other our badges and clear this right up?”  The two men looked at her with a look that was a cross between ‘she’s grown a 2nd head’ and ‘that makes sense’.  Sam loudly whispered in Steve’s ear.  “And if you ever pull the soccer mom arm, slash women & children behind the big bad SEAL move on me again, I will throat punch you.”  Steve gave her a dirty look and rolled his eyes. 

The two men went on to argue that neither were putting their guns down.  Sam rolled her eyes, but the truth was, she wasn’t putting her gun down either.  

Finally agreeing to pull out IDs on the count of three, everyone reached for their credentials.  “One.  Two.  Three.”  The blonde was Detective Daniel Williams, Honolulu Police Department.  Aha, Sam thought.  So, this was the guy she planned on giving a hard time after his refusal to give into her request for some interagency cooperation.  Huh, she thought.  Not bad.

“Lieutenant Devereaux?  We spoke the other day, right?”  Danny asked.  Steve shot her a look, which she ignored.

“Yes, Detective Williams.  You were less than inclined to, how shall I say, throw me a bone,” Sam replied playfully.  Danny turned his attention to Steve.

“Listen, I’m really sorry about your father, but you can’t be here right now,” Danny said to Steve.  While they exchanged a few barbs, Sam studied Detective Williams.  Jersey accent.  Tie.  Too much hair product.  She smiled inwardly, thinking how fun he would be to tease and mess with.  He seemed like the kind of cop she would want on her side.  She got a good vibe from him, despite their initial interaction and the current state of affairs.  And he was pretty cute, too.  Before she could get any further with her assessment of the cute cop, Steve grabbed John’s red tool box from the work bench with one hand and Sam’s hand with his other.  

“Leave the box or get arrested,” Danny said.

“All right,” Steve said.  “Gonna call for backup?”

“An ambulance,” Danny replied.  Sam had to duck her head to hide her snicker.  She was surprised when Steve put the box down on the back of the Marquis and looked at her.  She couldn’t read the look on his face.  The way he was staring into her eyes, it was as though he was trying to read her, figure out what she was thinking.  There was a brief moment that passed between them before he spoke.

“Wanna find some trouble, Red?” Steve asked her with a twinkle in his eyes and an incredibly sexy lopsided grin on his face.

“With you, Mac?  Hell yeah,” Sam instantly replied.  She couldn’t help but smirk.  They were settling into their old verbal back-and-forth in less than five minutes, despite being separated for nearly two decades.  How was that possible, Sam wondered.  Yet, it felt good.  It felt right.  It also felt like, all of a sudden, Sam knew her world was going to turn upside down.  Again.  She resumed chewing on the left corner of her lip, unsure of what direction this was going to take her.

Before Sam or Danny knew what was happening, Steve was on the phone with Governor Pat Jameson.  Looking into Sam’s eyes, Steve said, “Governor, I’ll take the job.  No, let’s just say I found some things that changed my mind.”  

“Take the job?” Sam mouthed at him, which simply elicited a wink.  Next thing she knows, she’s listening to him take an oath.  What the hell is going on, she thought.  Steve didn’t break eye contact with her until he hung up the phone and once again grabbed the tool box.  And Sam’s hand.

“Now it’s my crime scene.”  And with that, Steve pulled Sam through the door.  She had the courtesy to at least shrug in empathy and throw a look of apology at Danny, who was standing there with his jaw wide open.  Sam simply stared at the back of Steve’s head as he dragged her out of his father’s house.

[tour-de-pants]

Guys, I did a thing...

Just a quick alt meet RPF of Watson and Holmes... You know I ship it, don't @ me! Let me know if I should do more :) -Pants

If he’d been paying any attention, Watson would’ve noticed the aggravated stare from the woman one table over. He’d been tapping a slim wooden stir stick against his mug for five minutes that must’ve felt to her like fifty. He wasn’t the sort to annoy strangers, or anyone, intentionally. Usually he didn’t even mind someone else running late to a meeting. But if Lestrade didn’t turn up soon he might just lose his mind.

Training diets were a hell he put himself through willingly, and after fifteen years, the strain was fairly easy to take. Without much of a sweet tooth to speak of, he had it better than many—especially poor Anderson, who harbored a desire for pain au chocolat to rival his want for a mountain win. Not a lot got to Watson anymore, but the smell of freshly roasted coffee beans in this place… damn if he wasn’t about to crack and down a massive hazelnut concoction worth half a day’s calories. 

“‘Ugh, honestly,”’ the woman one table over grunted, drawing Watson’s attention away from the door. He frowned as she met his eyes with a look of disgust. A lifetime in London wouldn’t be enough to understand these people. 

“‘Hey John, sorry ‘bout that. Perils of mass transport, you know how it goes.” ’Lestrade slid into the seat across the table, the bizarrely small size of which Watson was noticing for the first time. They really didn’t want folks to hang about, he guessed. 

“‘It’s alright, Coach,”’ Watson answered, gulping his unexpectedly still hot tea. 

“‘Aw, don’t you do that, mate. Makes me feel like an old man in charge of a bunch of teenagers.”’

“‘I know.” ’Watson smiled. Lestrade was a good guy—and a good coach. Maybe he was jumping the gun with this whole retirement thing. “‘So what are we doing here? Besides testing my resolve against the Kenyan roast of the day?”’

“‘Need to let you in on something before the Prologue, being team captain and all. I wish I could tell the whole group, but it’s a bit sensitive.”’ The clasping and unclasping of Lestrade’s fingers told Watson this wouldn’t be a time for jokes, regardless of what he was about to hear. Something distinctly non-chamomile turned in his stomach.

“‘What’s up? Is someone injured?”’ He leaned forward the few inches it took to bring their heads close. “‘Worse?”’ 

“‘Oh, no, no. Nothing like that, thank God. No, it’s…you’re getting…it’s a new teammate.”’

Watson leaned back in his chair. Of course it was a new teammate; it’d have to be, what with Sholto out. After that crash last year, the doctors said he would never mount a bike again. He’d managed to stay out of the media once he’d stabilized and been transferred to a rehabilitation facility. It’d been a big hit for the team in terms of the Tour and fears for their own safety out there. Few teams in recent years had been as cohesive as Speedy’s; the idea of bringing in someone new was hard enough, but—

“‘This close to the Prologue, though? Why can’t the other guys know? And why didn’t you just ring me about it?”’

“‘John, it’s…”’

Watson waited, stir stick tapping against his saucer now. He heard the woman next to him mutter a curse as she scooped up her laptop and walked off. Some people were just grumpy, he supposed. 

“‘John, it’s Sherlock Holmes.”’

It was Watson’s turn to curse under his breath. Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock Holmes who rode the Tour ten years ago? Sherlock Holmes who left the race and the cycling world in a cloud of cocaine use allegations and rumors about a tryst gone bad with his own teammate? Sherlock Holmes whom no one had heard from since?

“‘Sorry Greg.”’ Watson blinked hard in an attempt to make sense of the news. “‘I thought you said Sherlock Holmes.”’

“‘You can’t tell anyone, mate. And sorry for laying it on you like this. There are more things beyond my control than I’d like, but I can assure you he’ll be riding clean and is physically fit for the job. Listen, I hate surprises as much as the next guy, but my hands are really tied with this one. I’m letting you know now because I anticipate I’ll need your help.”’

Watson ran a hand through his hair, short and light despite it only being late June. He still couldn’t figure out why he’d had to come out all this way to hear about this, but Lestrade always had reasons for what he did and he was usually right.

“‘Ok. Yeah, alright. Thanks for the heads up. Whatever you need, I’ll back you.”’

“‘Great.”’ A relieved smile flashed across Lestrade’s face as he rapped his knuckles on the tabletop and stood to leave. “‘Now get yourself out of here before temptation wins the day.”’

“‘As if it ever could.”’ Watson nodded and returned the smile, waiting for the door to close behind Lestrade before moving to add his cup and saucer to the mounting pile of dirty china above the trash bin behind him.

“‘Ceramic,”’ intoned a deep voice behind him.

“‘Pardon?”’ Watson asked, furrowing his brow but not turning.

“‘The dining ware isn’t china. It’s ceramic.”’

Watson stepped toward the bin, tossing in his stir stick and paper napkin before precariously balancing his ceramic cup and saucer on the returns shelf. 

“‘Are you my conscience?” ’he asked, laughing lightly as his own joke and holding up pleading hands in front of his mug until he was fairly certain he wouldn’t be the one to send the whole lot tumbling to the floor.

“‘Unlikely. Though I suppose we’ll see how the early stages go.”’

Early stages? Watson turned slowly, eyebrows rising and jaw dropping as recognition dawned. Holy hell, you’re—

“‘Sherlock Holmes, yes. Kind of you to remember me, though perhaps the memory you’re recalling is not in itself so kind.”’

“‘What are you doing here?”’ Watson looked around suspiciously, feeling as though he ought to be paranoid though he didn’t know what he might be trying to spot. 

“‘Seeing as how it is a coffee shop, one might suppose I stopped in to purchase coffee. And as much as I do hate to be predictable, in this particular case, that supposition would be the correct one.”’

“‘Well yeah, ok, but I mean why are you here, in this coffee shop? Now?”’

“‘I take it an odd experience has befallen you in the past hour—no, half hour—and you haven’t yet processed whatever it is. News of some kind, I should imagine. However, blocking the bins with your jaw wagging like a goldfish, while apparently a natural choice for you, is in fact not typically the most productive one.”’

“‘Oh, sh—sorry, I’m very sorry,”’ Watson said to the miniature queue of patrons waiting to deposit their china.

“‘Ceramic,”’ Holmes noted impatiently. “‘Sit down at that set of chairs there. The place is emptying, I should return with my order in three minutes.”’ He cast a glance at the register. “‘Four, it’s the cashier’s first day.”’

Watson didn’t see him walk away, nor did he feel himself cross back to the small dining area and settle into a surprisingly uncomfortable armchair. It was impossible. Sherlock Holmes had been missing from the public eye, from the entire world as far as he knew, for nearly a decade. Now within minutes of being told the man had spontaneously resurrected to join Team Speedy’s/Sussex Honey, here he was in the flesh. Watson looked around the cafe. He didn’t believe in magic or kismet or any of those mystical type things. After forty years of life, he was sure he’d know by now if there were weird crystal-swinging forces at play. But what were the odds?

“Three thousand seven hundred and eighteen.” The tap of a paper cup on the low table by his elbow punctuated Holmes’s statement. “‘Of course that’s not the actual percentage chance of us encountering each other here and now, simply the approximate number of coffee shops available assuming we were both entering one at the same time.”’

“‘That’s one massive coincidence.”’ Watson eyed Holmes in the chair beside him, sipping slowly at his own paper cup’s contents. 

“‘The universe is rarely so lazy, or so Big Brother says.”’

“‘Big Brother?”’ Watson was now only ninety percent certain he wasn’t in a movie. Or a simulation. Or whatever the thing was you were supposedly inside of. 

“‘My big brother, Mycroft. Though if he had it his way, the capital letters would be spot on. The chances of us meeting here are slim indeed, but there’s something more…why is it you—oh. I see.”’

“‘You see?”’

“‘You’ve only just found out that we’re more than distant former colleagues of a sort. Quite the coincidence after all, then.”’ Holmes took another long sip of his drink. “‘Do make a start on that before it goes cold,”’ he instructed, pointing at Watson’s cup. “‘Wasting it would be a crime.”’

Heat radiated through Watson’s palm as he wrapped his hand around the cup. The scent of fresh coffee reached him halfway to his mouth, allowing him a moment to brace himself. He never was able to drink it black, but this was hardly the time to cause offense. He could almost hear Holmes smirking from a foot away. He can’t really read minds, I must have some rude look on my face. Wouldn’t have to if he’d only asked before he went ahead and ordered for me. Haven’t even properly introduced ourselves yet.

“‘You’ll have to trust me sometime. Might as well start with my impeccable taste in coffee.”’

“‘Right, yeah. Thanks. Cheers.”’ Watson took a careful sip. Then another. Whatever this was dancing across his tongue was like no coffee he’d ever tasted. He tipped his head back a moment, unsure whether he wanted to consume it all instantly or draw it out as long as it would last.

“‘You’re not being shipped to a desert island, it’s only the Tour de France. You can have another one of these in hand in a matter of weeks.”’

“‘This is the best coffee I’ve ever had in my life. This…what even is this?”’ He strained to see the board over his shoulder. “‘That Tanzania blend thing?”’

Holmes scoffed. “‘As if a blend of the day could produce such a depth of flavor. No, John—may I call you John?”’

Watson nodded. Day was already weird, why not. 

“‘No, John, this is not a blend. Look at the wall behind the baristas, over to the left.”’

“‘I didn’t even see that before,” ’Watson said, squinting at a large apparatus. 

“‘You do see, but you do not observe. That,”’ Holmes gestured with the cup in his hand, “‘produces this. Kyoto Slow, by name.”’

“‘How does all that even work?”’

“‘Perhaps if we both make it home from Paris,”’ Holmes said, sighing into another sip, “‘I’ll walk you through it.”’

------------- //irl author's note: Kyoto Slow is an awesome Mystrade fic, highly recommend. read on AO3.

[johns-prince]

Playboy Interview with John Lennon and Yoko Ono: Published in January 1981 issue, interviewed in September 1980.

I was reading through the 1980 Playboy interview of John Lennon and Yoko Ono because I was trying to properly cite a quote a read earlier and I came across the whole ‘’whaddya think of people saying you’re under Yoko’s spell/control?’’ question and the following answer and spiel, but like, reading-reading it...

Maybe it’s because it’s so early and I’ve just woken up and this is what I have decided to immediately read upon, but like can we talk about how John’s incessant need to bring up Paul in just about any and all interviews himself is like, tattling? 

It’s similar to how Paul consistently brings John up in just about any conversation or interview too, but of course John talked in a way that makes me think of a still soured and obsessive ex while Paul talks like a widow carrying on. 

Like I’m not the first to go over this and talk about it and someone has probably done a better analysis of the whole damn interview but I need to talk about it, at least the segments that left my mind screeching to a halt. 

Even if it’s just John being John and never being entirely honest in these things but also being entirely transparent at the same time it’s maddening. 

PLAYBOY: "But what about the charge that John Lennon is under Yoko's spell, under her control?"

LENNON: "Well, that's rubbish, you know. Nobody controls me. I'm uncontrollable. The only one who controls me is me, and that's just barely possible."

PLAYBOY: "Still, many people believe it."

LENNON: "Listen, if somebody's gonna impress me, whether it be a Maharishi or a Yoko Ono, there comes a point when the emperor has no clothes. There comes a point when I will see. So for all you folks out there who think that I'm having the wool pulled over my eyes, well, that's an insult to me. Not that you think less of Yoko, because that's your problem. What I think of her is what counts! Because... fuck you, brother and sister... you don't know what's happening. I'm not here for you. I'm here for me and her and the baby!"

ONO: "Of course, it's a total insult to me..."

LENNON: "Well, you're always insulted, my dear wife. It's natural..."

ONO: "Why should I bother to control anybody?"

LENNON: "She doesn't need me."

ONO: "I have my own life, you know."

LENNON: "She doesn't need a Beatle. Who needs a Beatle?"

ONO: "Do people think I'm that much of a con? John lasted two months with the Maharishi. Two months. I must be the biggest con in the world, because I've been with him 13 years."

LENNON: "But people do say that."

PLAYBOY: "That's our point. Why?"

LENNON: "They want to hold on to something they never had in the first place. Anybody who claims to have some interest in me as an individual artist or even as part of the Beatles has absolutely misunderstood everything I ever said if they can't see why I'm with Yoko. And if they can't see that, they don't see anything. They're just jacking off to... it could be anybody. Mick Jagger or somebody else. Let them go jack off to Mick Jagger, OK? I don't need it."

PLAYBOY: "He'll appreciate that."

John’s talking about Paul, by the by, if that wasn’t already so painfully blatantly obvious. While he couldn’t bring himself to immediately say his name in that context he definitely brings him up in the next response:

LENNON: "I absolutely don't need it. Let them chase Wings. Just forget about me. If that's what you want, go after Paul or Mick. I ain't here for that. If that's not apparent in my past, I'm saying it in black and green, next to all the tits and asses on page 196. Go play with the other boys. Don't bother me. Go play with the Rolling Wings."

PLAYBOY: "Do you..."

LENNON: "No, wait a minute. Let's stay with this a second; sometimes I can't let go of it." (He is on his feet, climbing up the refrigerator) 

This is where it gets good. 

"Nobody ever said anything about Paul's having a spell on me or my having one on Paul! They never thought that was abnormal in those days, two guys together, or four guys together! Why didn't they ever say, 'How come those guys don't split up? I mean, what's going on backstage? What is this Paul and John business? How can they be together so long?' We spent more time together in the early days than John and Yoko: the four of us sleeping in the same room, practically in the same bed, in the same truck, living together night and day, eating, shitting and pissing together! All right? Doing everything together! Nobody said a damn thing about being under a spell. Maybe they said we were under the spell of Brian Epstein or George Martin." (the Beatles' first manager and producer, respectively) 

"There's always somebody who has to be doing something to you. You know, they're congratulating the Stones on being together 112 years. Whoooopee! At least Charlie and Bill still got their families. In the Eighties, they'll be asking, 'Why are those guys still together? Can't they hack it on their own? Why do they have to be surrounded by a gang? Is the little leader scared somebody's gonna knife him in the back?' That's gonna be the question. That's-a-gonna be the question! They're gonna look back at the Beatles and the Stones and all those guys as relics. The days when those bands were just all men will be on the newsreels, you know. They will be showing pictures of the guy with lipstick wriggling his ass and the four guys with the evil black make-up on their eyes trying to look raunchy. That's gonna be the joke in the future, not a couple singing together or living and working together. It's all right when you're 16, 17, 18 to have male companions and idols, OK? It's tribal and it's gang and it's fine. But when it continues and you're still doing it when you're 40, that means you're still 16 in the head."

I had to split his rant into paragraphs because I needed a breath. 

John doesn’t even let the interviewer continue on with a question. No, he just can’t let go of it. He’s so riled up that apparently he’d gotten up and... What, started climbing onto the fridge? Climbing the walls? Is this what happened whenever the topic of Paul and their relationship came up? 

I don’t think this is normal behavior, compared to the other outrageous behavior of John in the 70s and 1980. This is unnecessary, getting so bent out of shape over the fact nobody made a fuss over you and your just best bud partner and collaborator of The Beatles.

>>>“Nobody ever said anything about Paul's having a spell on me or my having one on Paul! They never thought that was abnormal in those days, two guys together...”

John, Paul wasn’t your wife or husband or whatever. You two weren’t exactly dating, you two didn’t suddenly slip into an intimate and scandalous love affair like, overnight. Paul wasn’t yours, legally, John. Not like Cynthia, who was your wife and the mother of your son. Not like Yoko, who is also your wife, and the mother of your son. 

You would get those sorts of questions about them, but instead you’re aghast and affected that it wasn’t Paul about you or you about Paul and your relationship in between being grilled and questioned and torn at by fans and the press. 

What, did you ever expect the press or individual reporters and interviewers to ask you how you and Paul were getting on? When was the wedding? Should they expect triplets in the fall? 

Why would anyone say anything about Paul having a spell on you, or even you having a spell over Paul? John can’t be this stupid, maybe he’s experiencing an emotional break due to even the mention of Paul here, by his own doing, but to say something that shouldn’t even be compared to the relationship you have with your wife, as if people should have been asking you about Paul or Paul about you, about having some sort of spell or hold over each other, because if they didn’t grill Paul or you about the Lennon-McCartney relationship, then clearly Yoko is getting the unfair shtick of it. 

I mean come on. 

>>>“What is this Paul and John business? How can they be together so long?' We spent more time together in the early days than John and Yoko: the four of us sleeping in the same room, practically in the same bed, in the same truck, living together night and day, eating, shitting and pissing together! All right? Doing everything together! Nobody said a damn thing about being under a spell.”

You know, John was just about as guilty using the safe ‘’we’’ over ‘’I’’ or ‘’we as in Paul and I’’ as much as Paul is. Starts off about him and Paul, what’s all this Paul and John business, how can they be together so long, and then brushing it over with ‘’well the four of us--’’ oh no no no John, this is not about the four of you, this is 100% about the two of you, about John and Paul, the Paul and John business. 

Why would anyone ask you two about this John and Paul business- they did ask you John, they asked you two about your musical process, your meeting, how you two do get on as friends and partners, what would you do after The Beatles went bust.

Is the problem that they were asking the wrong questions? Hey, you two are awfully close, I mean, physically, is that common? Is there something about sharing a mic? Can’t you afford another one? Do you and Paul often share a room just between you two? Say, what’s the business between John and Paul? 

What did you want John. No, really. I’m so mad that the interviewer didn’t stick to what John was going off and on about here, because I would really like to know, since John’s so ticked off about it (The Beatles, Paul, his relationship with Paul, Lennon-McCartney) and wanting to be so honest and open about his frustrations surrounding it, I would have loved to know:

What did you want from others when it came to looking at and questioning Lennon-McCartney? What did you want John? 

Also by my calculation, John and Paul were together for about 14 years. Like a year difference... But not getting into the specifics, to John, admittedly, he feels he felt more time and space with Paul (or The Beatles) than John and Yoko. Even if it might be about the same in numbers, to John it isn’t the same at all. 

>>>”There's always somebody who has to be doing something to you. You know, they're congratulating the Stones on being together 112 years. Whoooopee!'”

You ever read something and you can like, hear the intonation and emotion in the words being said? Whooopeee! That’s not condescending in the slightest. I mean I know it’s supposed to be, but can’t you read it as being rather dripping with jealousy? Envy? 

We all know John and Paul during the 60s stated after The Beatles, they would carry on writing songs together, creating together, even looking into writing a musical play of sorts. John and Paul were supposed to be together 112 years, don’cha know. 

>>>”At least Charlie and Bill still got their families. In the Eighties, they'll be asking, 'Why are those guys still together? Can't they hack it on their own? Why do they have to be surrounded by a gang? Is the little leader scared somebody's gonna knife him in the back?”

Projection, I don’t know what else to call this. Projection, and maybe a little bit of that jealousy/envy continued. 

>>>“It's all right when you're 16, 17, 18 to have male companions and idols, OK? It's tribal and it's gang and it's fine. But when it continues and you're still doing it when you're 40, that means you're still 16 in the head.”

By all accounts and pretenses, Paul was your ‘male companion’ and vice versa, or whatever. You two did idolize each other. This went on long past 18 years old between the two of you, John. You were a gang, and a tribe of stupid young boys whirlwinded into fame. It’s fine it’s fine it’s fine until what, it’s not?

My head and heart and everything hurts, reading these interviews. John isn’t honest, he’s a liar, but he’s transparent and still manages to tell on himself. John’s projection launches himself into the sun and back again. 

John compares Paul to his current wife instead of, oh, I dunno, bringing up Cynthia, his wife during The Beatles, when it came to discussing the whole ‘oh does she have a spell/hold over him?’ Wouldn’t she have made a better example of it? You would think, wouldn’t you.

John bitches that the press or fans didn’t treat Paul in the way that they apparently treated Yoko. Why was his first wife treated so much nicer? Why was Paul spared and Yoko isn’t? 

He can’t let it go. He can’t let Paul go. He’s envious, he’s bitter. He’s pathetic, he’s insane, he’s driving me insane. 

Further down, I come across this segment, and I think it’s worth bemoaning over:

PLAYBOY: "Were falling in love with Yoko and wanting to leave the Beatles connected?"

LENNON: "As I said, I had already begun to want to leave, but when I met Yoko is like when you meet your first woman. You leave the guys at the bar. You don't go play football anymore. You don't go play snooker or billiards. Maybe some guys do it on Friday night or something, but once I found the woman, the boys became of no interest whatsoever other than being old school friends. 'Those wedding bells are breaking up that old gang of mine.' We got married three years later, in 1969. That was the end of the boys. And it just so happened that the boys were well known and weren't just local guys at the bar. Everybody got so upset over it. There was a lot of shit thrown at us. A lot of hateful stuff."

>>>“As I said, I had already begun to want to leave, but when I met Yoko is like when you meet your first woman.”

John you were so desperate for The Beatles that Cynthia at one point had to tell you that maybe John needed them more than they needed him. You were seriously thinking y’all should buy an island to live on together. 

You were not already beginning to leave The Beatles, you lying git. 

>>>“'Those wedding bells are breaking up that old gang of mine.' We got married three years later, in 1969. That was the end of the boys.”

I will always find it unbearably fascinating that when Paul found Linda, and and John found Yoko, that was it. No one cared when George got married, they didn’t care when Ringo got hitched. John and Paul were still fucking around and bashing away on their instruments and writing music cooped up in Paul’s house when John was with Cynthia, and then married Cynthia and had a child with her. She didn’t break up the band, those wedding bells hadn’t done them in. 

So why is it, when Paul got with Linda, and then immediately afterwards, John married Yoko, did the wedding bells bring about a funeral procession? It wasn’t the end of the boys, John, it was the end of Lennon-McCartney. It was the end of that Paul and John business. 

ONO: "Even now, I just read that Paul said, 'I understand that he wants to be with her, but why does he have to be with her all the time?'"

LENNON: "Yoko, do you still have to carry that cross? That was years ago."

Honestly that’s a laugh coming from you John. Oh, that was years ago, let it go. John you can’t even let IT go yourself! 

I wouldn’t be surprised if Paul had said something like that, whether it was years ago or recently, especially when every time Paul tried getting in contact with John, Yoko would intentionally bar him out and not even tell John about Paul wanting to meet up with him. 

That, and whether Paul had mentioned it or someone close working had mentioned it, during the Let It Be period, Paul did feel like John was with Yoko all the time. It stifled him, it stifled their creative relationship, Paul felt he couldn’t genuinely and openly connect and speak with John with Yoko hanging around every second. 

ONO: "No, no, no. He said it recently. I mean, what happened with John is like, I sort of went to bed with this guy that I liked and suddenly the next morning, I see these three in-laws, standing there."

LENNON: "I've always thought there was this underlying thing in Paul's 'Get Back.' When we were in the studio recording it, every time he sang the line 'Get back to where you once belonged,' he'd look at Yoko."

PLAYBOY: "Are you kidding?"

LENNON: "No. But maybe he'll say I'm paranoid."

It’s alright John, I’m paranoid too because I definitely got that underlying vibe about Get Back and the tension between Paul and Yoko.

Mind you these segments of the interview I’ve gone over, Yoko was present through it all. 

Paul was mentioned 48 times, and this is just the first page of the 1980 Playboy interview. 

I’m gonna go beat my head in with a wooden hammer now.