#love that we still don’t have brooklyns last name

[frostybirdgoddess]

Minor spoilers for ep one of Chaos Theory as well as the minute long clip of Yaz, Sammy, and Ben.

I think the biggest thing to take away from the first episode is that it’s been some time since Brooklyn died. From the trailers we’d gotten, it was made to seem like B’s death is what caused everyone to come together, but post watching episode one, it seems to have been at least a month since Brooklyn died.

Darius and Ben haven’t talked since Brooklyn’s death, though that doesn’t seem intentional or malicious on either side.

Kenji 100% has been blaming Darius for what happened to Brooklyn, kind of like he did in CC when B was a hostage. (B was rescued, Darius was like we’re good?, Kenji said no and essentially blamed Darius for ‘putting’ Brooklyn in danger.)

Seems like that’s happening again, except it’s worse because Brooklyn isn’t coming back this time.

It’s made worse by of the wall of pictures we see in Darius’s house, bc it seems the Bowmans all but legally adopted Kenji. And now Kenji is blaming his brother- the professional dino wrangler- for not being there when Brooklyn was attacked by a dinosaur.An understandable thing to do in the face of grief, but ultimately wrong and definitely hurting Darius’s survivor’s guilt.

Moving on to the CampFam as a whole, they haven’t drifted, they still remain in touch like any split up group of friends do. I’m very happy about that. And they made their epilogue designs from CC canon which I absolutely love.

Yaz.

I stand by that Yasmina was the most affected by CC, but that *isn’t* what drove her to be as scared of dinosaurs as she is; it was the brutal death of a friend.

I’m theorizing that Yaz and Sammy *did* live together happily on Sammy’s dino ranch until Brooklyn’s death. That event probably reawakened the trauma Yasmina has from such brutal dinosaur experiences. She’s freshly terrified of dinosaurs now, and it’s badly affecting her once peaceful life on a dinosaur ranch.

So, she leaves. Yaz has either moved to, or built up a dino-free suburban area for people to live in. But her trauma with dinosaurs is obviously something Yaz wants to work past and move on from, hence the hologram and mention of safe inversion therapy.

Yaz *wants* to go back to her life on the ranch with her girlfriend, but she’s very messed up about Brooklyn’s death, and knowing Yasmina, it drives her crazy that this renewed trauma isn’t something she can just push past.

That’s all I have for now, I’d love to hear other people’s thoughts!

[art]

Creator Spotlight: @jdebbiel

Deb JJ Lee is a non-binary Korean artist based in Brooklyn, NY. They have appeared in the New Yorker, New York Times, NPR, Google, Radiolab, and more. Their award-winning graphic memoir, IN LIMBO, about mental illness and difficult relationships with trauma, released in March 2023 from First Second.

Below is our interview with Deb!

Have you ever had an art block? If so, how did you overcome it?

That implies I am over my art block, but I’m still in it! I think about Kiki’s Delivery Service a lot and how she had to stop doing a thing, and that you can’t really force it, and you have to let it come back to you. It’s a pretty humbling moment, realizing there is more to life than just drawing. I’ve been trying to consume other content like reading or watching movies—anything that is not drawing-related—and to trust that it will come back to me. I think not being afraid to do the small pieces before committing to the big pieces is helpful. Because big pieces are what I am known for, I dig myself into a deeper hole, thinking that each piece has to be bigger than the last one. So yeah! Relaxing and doing the small things before overcommitting to a big piece is the best way to go about it for me.

Which 3 famous artists (dead or alive) would you invite to your dinner party?

I feel like these are all artists that I have second-degree connections with! Jillian Tamaki, Victo Ngai, and Tillie Walden would be my picks!

What are your file name conventions?

…What file name conventions? I mean, I don’t have specific file name conventions, but I actually have a public Google Drive archive! But I usually put “djjl_whatever-the-title-is_final,” and I would always know it’s the final and legit version.

What is a recent creative project that you are proud of?

I did an illustration for the whiskey brand Johnnie Walker. It’s so wild because I only had four days to finish it, and it usually takes me a week and a half if I rush. And honestly, it’s probably one of my best pieces from this year, which is funny. It was for the Mid-Autumn festival, so I made it as Korean as possible.

How has technology changed the way you approach your work?

I only use my iPad to draw everything now, and if I want to pretend that I have a steady workstation, I’ll use my Cintiq. I still am not as comfortable on the Cintiq as I am on Procreate, but it’s still pretty solid and nice. That’s the good part about technology. The bad part about technology is how AI art has been messing things up for me. I’m currently in a lawsuit about AI art as a class rep. Some of my stuff got turned into AI art late last year, so I have to give a deposition at some point. 

What is a convention experience that has stuck with you?

Honestly, they’re all good! I feel like Lightbox Expo has been really nice because it’s truly been a convention for artists. I feel like that’s where most of my audience is, and they’re all around because their purpose is to be better at art. That’s where a lot of original artists do well because they’re getting art they’re inspired by, not so much fanart. I like the Lightbox Expo because it encompasses the pure love of art very well. 

Top tips on setting up an Artist Alley booth?

Use a Y axis, not just your X axis! Take advantage of it! Branding is also something to think about. It is definitely something I’m getting better at. Having an assistant is also very important. I’ve also heard that 8.5x11 to 12x18 inches is usually a good size for prints, but I also provide postcard-sized prints because sometimes people don’t want to commit to a larger size. 

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

You know this is so funny. I’ve been following @alicexz for over a decade on Tumblr and other platforms. I’ve followed her work since high school, and we’ve only recently become peers. I found her, and we met for the first time in real life, and she recognized me. And then I found all my drawings from when I was in my Alice phase, back in high school, and I was like, “Yo, this is when I was trying to be you so badly!” and she was cracking up and was like “Wow, this is so good!” It was such a sweet moment. I wanted to take a picture of her holding my drawing up. It’s really nice because now we’re peers.

Thank you so much for stopping by and sharing, Deb! Be sure to check out their Tumblr blog over at @jdebbiel.

[m1ssunderstanding]

My thoughts on Beatles 64

Am I a terrible person or something because I’m genuinely having such a hard time wrapping my head around these people’s reactions to their president getting shot. Like I can count on one hand the people I’d give a fuck about in DC and I’m not crying if that happens. I’m angry. I’m scared. But I’m not sad.

Who is this covering all my loving? It’s pretty.

I will forever love Paul and George’s big and little brother dynamic. Deep, cloudy scouse: they’re in perfect synchronization. Bright, squeaky scouse: Are they? Like, where is George’s little chimney sweep costume?!

And Paul’s sharp tone calling John’s name. I don’t know, I could obsess over any little scrap of footage of them. I just love picking apart details that reveal dynamics.

George’s insecure, curious, “Are you filming now?” Compared to his over-it, sardonic, “Are you recording our conversation?” He aged about twenty years between 64 and 69.

John’s reaction to his own voice in his ears is always a straight shot of joy.

I like that they’re showing all the boys. You know, because if only girls like them, then they’re just a silly pop group, but if boys like them too, well. That’s something else, isn’t it?

One of my favorite moments. No wonder Paul took so well to shepherding. His blood pressure spiking if John gets out of arm's reach. And John is of course so happy to be pulled back in.

Their hair really was so fluffy!

John spreads his legs when he’s playing because he’s an anxious attachment. Paul keeps his legs closed because he’s avoidant. In this essay I will.

This mix of She Loves You is really highlighting Ringo’s drumming for me. He’s so talented and attractive.

This is why Paul’s my favorite, genuinely. Because he goes from the most polite, people-pleasing, tender-heart to an absolute mean girl cunty bitch in the span of less than a second.

Ringo is the quickest wit, I’m telling you, and if anyone says otherwise, I’m cancelling you for classism.

Why is it always Paul these middle aged creeps feel the need to touch? I mean, I know why. But it makes me sick. That kind of thing is reserved for the mutuals. Definitely not cops.

It’s literally sooooo funny for me seeing this guy choke up about She Loves You. Like I’m genuinely happy for him, but I was literally just over at my husband’s grandparents double-wide and they Still go on about how stupid the Beatles haircuts were and how they remember the days before the Beatles when there was ‘real’ rock and roll on the radio.

So, Paul’s been telling the story of Jim critiquing She Loves You for literally sixty years now, and originally it was with mix-ins from John and George and without a lot of artificial sweeteners. Here’s the sixty-year-old version:

Back home in Liverpool, we used to sing over some of our songs to relatives—I did to my Dad and my aunties,” he recalled. “My Dad would look at me looking disappointed. ‘I don’t know young Paul,’ he’d say. ‘I try to get you to speak properly, and you drop your aitches. Why sing ‘Yeah, Yeah’ when you mean ‘Yes, Yes?’ I tried to explain this was the whole point of the song,” Paul continued. John broke in: “Anyone ever heard someone from Liverpool singing ‘Yes’? It’s YEAH.” Paul continued: “Well, we just laughed. My Dad gave us some of the worst advice ever. He said this music thing will never last. It’s all right on the side, he’d say, BUT PAUL IT WILL NEVER LAST!” “Remember,” said George, “he always wanted us to sing ‘Stairway to Paradise’?” – Ray Coleman article 1964

What a cutie. Shouldn't be allowed.

���That wasn’t really the case.” (that America was the land of the free). He always almost gets to his political views. You know? Microdosing? Left-bating? Maybe both. Whatever.

I LOVE their funny little accents with all my heart. John does posh scarily well.

Ringoooooooo!

“Go on! Defy convention!” Quotes that define the speaker. He should sell t-shirts with that slogan.

This girl’s Brooklyn accent and her confidence are so beautiful!

Why did they buy John an ID I’m actually dying! Oh! They don’t mean, they mean like Paul’s and Ringo’s bracelets. Got it. Okay. I was like ‘are you trying to help him ten years in advance with his immigration struggle?’

The juilliard girl is phenomenal.

I want the nylons and I want the shoes.

“Would you do me a tremendous favor?” “I’m not gonna kiss you like Elisabeth Taylor.” See? Ringo is the funny one. Ringo is so fucking sharp and nobody gives him the credit he’s due.

Ronnie Spector you deserved better, Queen! I love her. She’s so gorgeous, she’s so cool, she’s so young and energetic!

Two excellent Lennonisms right in a row. “Have you been watching the newsies?” and “I don’t care,” I say as I care caringly. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, he has the most sunshiny smile in the Beatles.

Ringoooooo!

Not the picture of JohnandPaul singing together as “with lovers and friends” plays.

Love Paul offering Ringo a candy. In yet another accent. People need to make them talk in goofy accents more in fic because it’s incessant. But I just love them offering each other food. It’ll always get me.

See, this is what I love about John. “People have been tryna stamp out rock and roll since it started.” “Why do you think that is? What are they afraid of?” “I always thought it was cause it came from black music.” He’s not ‘honest to a fault’ or whatever the boomer men love to say. But he’s very, very blunt, and he’s not going to try and skirt anything. You know?

Literally the most embarrassing thing a person can ever be is white.

“I thought it was very weak. You know what I think, I call a spade a spade. I thought it was weaker than weak.” Cook him! And then the mimicking! I love him so much! Holy shit, that would’ve been so enraging.

And then the quiet sass of the guy being interviewed right after. “Well, the versatility, the originality. I like anything that’s original.” I love some clever tumblr web-weaving in my documentaries.

In my husband’s grandparent’s defense, the “real rock and roll” they loved before the Beatles was literally only black artists.

I love this picture for ever. Look at how tight he’s holding on to John with one hand and the other hand raised in joyous triumph, engagement bracelet visible. This is Paul in heaven.

“The whole assumption of male vs female is not prominent. They’re sort of in-between.” Yes. Love. Keep going.

Ringo’s got all the quips, again. “Ringo, look over here!” Puts his hands up. “Don’t shoot!”

I didn’t know Smokey Robinson and the Miracles went to the Cavern, that’s cool! And here I was thinking I wouldn’t learn anything new from this doc. His whole interview is very lovely and generous.

I always think “You’ve Really Got a Hold on Me” probably spoke to John in terms of his relationship with Paul, but I go there so easily. Anyway, Smokey Robinson had every right to be pissed that they released a cover of his song without even asking. Like that would be illegal nowadays, right? And yet he’s so kind about it.

We talk about how scary Beatlemania was and we should because it was, but it really puts it in perspective for me personally hearing Smokey say he was shot at for trying to use the bathroom.

Oh I love that we have footage of Paul taking Ringo’s picture! Makes me think of “eye of the storm” obviously, but also the way he’s mocking the photographer's jargon of the time as he’s doing it. The fact that he ended up marrying a photographer who made a point to depict him as not just “some doe eyed sex object” in her pictures, and also of his song “pretty boys” and his quotes about the sexualization of “male models”. Definitely not about anything he himself experienced. Anyway, thoughts. Strings. Pins. Etc.

Also Ringo turning to the camera still filming him, “what do you think I am, a monkey?” Remember that part in this footage where Ringo says something like, “are we ever going to have a break from all these cameras?” And he’s exhausted. It really seems like, from the footage selected by this doc at least, that Paul and Ringo were doing the bulk of the lifting at this time just with cooperating with the show biz stuff. And isn’t that (interesting? Sad? Poetic? Good?) that they’re the ones still cooperating sixty years later.

How dare they cut out “but we ain’t written no poetry!”

As John’s panicking, “how are we gonna – have you seen the kids? How are we gonna get in, then?” Paul’s just calmly going, “Hi girls!” With a patient smile and a cute little wave. “I’ll just go in and speak to the people first, okay?” I love Paul “calming-down-other-people’s-hysteria-is-my-calling-in-life” McCartney.

Cute, George introducing a song he’ll do a viral backflip to in twenty years.

I wonder what that letter is. John’s being very tender with it.

“You’re fired!” “It’s Love Me Do, whacker!” With the sweetest most innocent smile. I love when John is John, you know?

“To me they’re all obviously low or middle class, highly illiterate, unintelligent wild kids seeking a little fun and pleasure . . . I think there’s something very strange about it at the same time, something very sick. . . . I’m sure that sexual reasons have something to do with it. They find the Beatles sexually attractive and they’ve made some kind of psychological tie with them. I think the whole thing’s a little bit frightening and quite sick.” Where’s that old meme with Trump describing the democrats in the most hateful terms he can think of and people being like “yep that’s me”?

Paul stopping to say goodbye by name to each of the people who've been in their hotel room one by one. It’s giving *Opra voice* “and you please don’t hate us and you please dont hate us and you please don’t hate us”

Ringo coming back because he went the wrong way is the most me-core thing.

Paul will come in with the random shouts and yelling in the middle of a song he’s singing lead on all the way from the very beginning and all the way to the very very end, huh.

I just get filled with so much rage at this image of the Bernstein family, especially after the footage of the Gonzalezes. Like, I know I need therapy. I know. But it costs money. Anyway, all rich people can go straight to hell. “I was allowed to wheel the TV set down from the library, down the corridor and into the dining room.” Oh, were you! Well, you must be very special, then.

I wonder if Paul’s title of his exhibition has anything to do with this quote from John about “It was like being in the eye of a hurricane.”

The girl hanging on Ringo like a jungle-gym is me. I love the way he flirts, it’s so smooth, physical, casual.

Classic John moment and he doesn’t even open his mouth.

My dearest wish is that these two are happily married now, holding hands in the theater watching this.

The voice of the woman asking Paul “what do you think of the American TV” sounded extremely like Linda’s. I sort of panicked for a second. Linda’s voice is lower, but the accent and cadence and the sort of wealthy slouch is the same.

I love them picking up on the dystopian beginnings of America’s version of late-stage capitalism and broadcasting the ridiculousness of it all to a public that didn’t know any different. “The situation in China is very bad. Have you ever wondered, when you’re eating at home?”

The guys setting up wearing Beatles wigs? Ew. Why?

Ringo’s so funny! “Watch any band. If anything goes wrong, they go – Blame the drummer.” And he’s so endearing and sweet. “I just always wanted to be IN the band, not like ‘oh, I’m over here.’” Reminds me of his quote about being lonely as an only child and ending up with three brothers. What a tenderheart.

Huh. Always thought some idiots just set up his rostrum backwards. The rest of the stage spinning around it makes much more sense.

That little smile between the two of them.

George in tears! Poor baby! I really do think, with the way this affected him on another level than it affected the others, and with the way he talked about his experiences at the Inny compared to Paul (not that you can trust Paul to say anything actually gets to him) that George maybe was more sensitive to classism than the others.

I hope Paul said something to that affect to George after. “They’re working at an embassy. We’re on the road, rocking. I don’t give a flying fuck.” You know? I could see it.

Another thing I love about John. You need that guy on your team, whatever it is you’re trying to accomplish. That when people are being bitchy, you tell them to fuck off and you leave. I bet Paul, George, and Ringo were so relieved that John did that for them.

After Ringo talked about not wanting to be back behind and separate from the band, I’ve noticed all three of them stepping back sometimes to stand more in line with him when they’re not singing. I don’t know if it was conscious or natural, but either way, I love that they did that and I’m sure Ringo did too.

The looks and smiles

I usually maintain that Paul is only sexy from 60-61 and from 68-98 and from 18-now. But. This is just objectively hot, I don’t care who you are.

It’s so sweet to see George being such a ham, getting John to do silly bits with him, putting on a waiter’s uniform and passing out drinks, climbing up in the luggage compartment. I wish they could’ve somehow kept it at a pace that was manageable for him so he could’ve kept on being so happy with his life, you know? I mean it’s not like it just disappears completely. There’s some of it in Get Back and even in Anthology, but it’s just not the same.

This is what happens when you’re a slut, Paul. You get paternity suits that ruin your mood. Shame, shame.

Interesting that Paul points out Brian’s “defying convention” by having them play their scandalous rock and roll shows in all these “hallowed halls”. I’d never thought about it as Brian’s conscious decision but obviously it must’ve been, and that’s very clever and snarky of him.

“That man, who is strong enough to be gentle, that is a new man.” Betty Friedan is pro-beatle. We love to see it!

Watching Paul try to behave like a human being on stage with all of his early twenties energy is honestly painful. It’s like Kurt Vonnegut’s Harrison Bergeron, you know? Like I can just see him aching to let himself free, but there are weights put in place for a reason. I know Brian was right to calm them down, and this documentary is proof that if he hadn’t done his taming, either they never would’ve made it or there would’ve been all-out class warfare or something, but it breaks my heart, it really does.

Ronald Isley, again, just like Smokey Robinson, being so so charitable here, and managing to do so without playing down the fact that things were absolutely rigged against him and his group at the time. “We should be on the Ed Sullivan show doing . . .” Yes. Yes.

I looked it up, and this quote is genuine. “If it wasn’t for the isley brothers, we would still be in Liverpool.” – Paul McCartney. That’s one thing I love about him. He’s always giving – very much due – credit to his black contemporaries. People ask him about Elvis and he always says, “yes, and Little Richard.” People say he was the most innovative bass player of his time and he says, “yes, and Fred Thomas.”

Ringo literally gets me every time. George: I don’t remember Wales. Ringo: It was before you joined the group.

The way Paul talks about George living “the good life” is very much in the tone of an older brother who’s helped his little brother do well for himself, you know? It’s adorable.

Of course Paul’s out feeding seagulls.

Not even going to comment on the “i love you” thing. Nope.

Okay I do have to say, the end of this guy’s story about going to liverpool and getting deported is incredibly sweet. I was kind of ignoring him, and then when he said he met John during Imagine, I sort of braced myself. But it turned out absolutely adorable. I love John’s little antenna miming and that he promoted this guy just for having made the front page of the Liverpool Echo. It’s all very John, very endearing.

I hope Paul and this weepy old guy had a talk about healing yourself from abuse through music. There’s like a 1/100 chance, but I still hope they did.

John loves a good boat analogy, doesn’t he? “There was a ship going to discover the new world. And the beatles were in the crows nest on the same ship [as everyone else] and we just said ‘land ho!’

Love the use of “Roll Over Beethoven” as the final song.

[neonovember]

OH MY GOD CARMYS GF (READER) GETTING HER FIRST TATTOO AND HIM COMFORTING HER AND HELPING HER TAKE CARE OF IT DURING THE HEALING PROCESS OR WHATEVA‼️💳💥💳💥 IDK I WAS JUST SITTING HERE AND THOUGHT OF IT IF YOU DOJT WANNA WRITE IT THATS OKAY

could even make the tattoo be his name or his initial or somethin 🤯🤯🤭😏

love you and your writing 😚

thanks for keeping us fed 😌

carmen berzatto x reader

okay so yes, maybe hozier has jolted me out of my writers block. i'm just a women after all.

Inked Devotion

this request was fun! i really didn't know what to make the tattoo so i left it a blank slate for whatever you wanna imagine, hope that's okay!

word count: 1.7k

things; tattoos, mentions of braces, carmen's unyielding devotion to you

Your eyes dart across the tall walls lined with inked models and men in dark beards nervously. You can't shake the tension that seems to imprint itself under your skin, your knees jittering with a rapid tap against the linoleum floors. 

When you had brought up wanting to get a tattoo, a half joking mutter under your breath as you traced the many littered on Carmen’s body you hadn’t anticipated to actually go through with it. 

And yet here you were, shaking like a leaf despite the diffuser jutting out whisper of eucalyptus that was meant to be calming. Whilst Monica, a woman you'd meant a handful of times ran through the list of after care necessities you should be listening to.

You can’t though, you don’t hear a thing as you stare unseeingly through the dark auburn tresses of her short hair, wrapped up in the thoughts that have begun to eat away at the already dwindling confidence you had when you first walked in. 

“Hey, you still with me darlin’' Monica's Brooklyn drawl draws you back to her, and you duck your head sheepishly as you nod furiously. Like a goddamn high schooler getting caught looking out the window instead of listening to Hemingway.

Monica smiles toward you, humouring warmth filling her pale skin that, surprising to you, were incredibly stark of tattoos. In fact, if it weren’t for the posters taped to the walls, the black and white tiled floor, and the ominous tattoo bench in the corner you would have thought you walked it not the wrong place. It was stereotypical of you, and you had been a loud advocate for not judging a book by its cover, but goddamn, what tattoo parlour had potted plants and candles that smell like cinnamon?

“Sorry, uh, what did you say?” 

“It’ll be alright, the pain really does depend on each person but Larry here will catch you if you faint on my tattoo bed” Monica winks with a smile, and you shift your gaze to the man stationed unmoving near some marked drawers, the mass of muscle hidden beneath dark jeans and a shirt bursting out of him.

It wasn’t the pain you were worried about, you had period cramps that sounded worse than that, it was more so the prospect of having your virgin skin imprinted with something forever. You had never done something like this, teenage recklessness had passed you by without a blink, and you had little to show for it but carved words on your old dresser from a knife and a dark eyeshadow phase that lasted less than a month. 

It was a little pathetic, getting your first tattoo eons after any respectable age, and your trepidation seems blatantly clear as Monica shakes her head with a smile.

“Many people get their firsts well into adulthood, did I tell you about my last appointment? A 52 year old woman wanting a goddamn tramp stamp.”

You can't help but let a giggle out, the unsureness leaving you at Monica’s words

“You still want this right?’ Monica replies, and you shift your gaze to Carmen, who was already watching you fondly, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he pushes his golden strands back and gives you a nod

“It’s all up yo you gorgeous, if your having second thoughts there is a really good Thai place i wanted to che-” 

“No, no I want this”  You cut him off, and he chuckles softly, “Besides we already designed the stencil and everything” Carmen nods at that, placing his large palm onto your own, squeezing it with reassurance.

“Damn right we did, thinkin it's my best work yet” Monica chirps from the other side of the bed between you.

“Alright, just sit on that bed down there, get settles while I grab some things” 

You nod, walking stiffly towards the leather bed, tissue paper crinkly under your weight as you shift into a comfortable position. Your eyes follow Monica like a laser, watching as she santises her hands and slides on powdered sterile gloves. 

It reminds you of days spent in Dentists chairs, visions of rubbery fingers tightening wires into your teeth flashes behind the darkness of your lids. Funny, you had worried about your lack of experimental youth, and yet here you are now feeling like a kid again.

The thought makes you smile, and you open your eyes to feel the heated gaze of Carmen looming over you. Face distorting in horror when Monica’s tool makes a clatter, eyes widening comically in that way that always makes you laugh.

“Alright Doll, I’m just gonna need you to sit up for me whilst I get the skin prepped. Alcohols gonna feel a little cold to the touch, kay?” Monica says.

All you can do is nod as she rips open the matte packet, pressing it into your open skin shaved clean per her request a few prior. Who knew how much prep a tattoo would need, you were sure it was on par with even one of Carm’s dishes.

Unfortunately for you the only numbing cream useful for tattoos had something that would have made you break out in hives, so it was cold turkey for you. Monica had transformed the design into a stencil, and as she was transferring it into your skin it seemed to come to life all at once. 

You had spent hours going over designs, and whilst you were extremely happy with what you both came up with, it was like when the lines and shapes had traced your skin, you finally saw it. And the moment you did you couldn't stop the wave of emotion that rushed through you, filling your eyes.

“Hey, baby, hey what is it” Carmen rushed urgently, crouching down when he noticed the way you sniffled.

“Awe doll, you don’t like the design? I’ll change it in a flash, this is just the stencil it aint permanent at all” Monica quickly stopped, looking up at you with concern

“No no, I’m fine” You squeezed Carmen “It’s so, it's beautiful Monica” You rushed out, trying to ease the lines of concern that appeared on her face. Monica bloomed at your reply, fondness heating her cheeks as she traced your skin comfortingly.

“Thank you” You whispered to her as she shushed you.

“At least we got the crying bit over and done with, it might hurt less now” She winked, before reaching for her tattoo gun.

“Ah shit” You grunted, shooting daggers Carmen's way when he snorted out loud.

Returning to your skin, Monica pressed the pointed tip of the gun to your skin, the first sink of ink burrowed into your skin causing you to clench your jaw. 

Monica looked up to watch your expression with a smile,

“See, ain't too bad” Carmen replied before you gripped him white knuckled, making him wince regrettably.

It took some time, you won’t lie to yourself that is fucking hurt. But soon enough the sharp stab had resided to a dull ache, and you instead had become all too focused on the movement of Monica's hand swaying through the strokes of the design. 

You were in awe, she breathed her being into it, and as the design took inches and inches of your skin you understood why she was booked out for months. With one last intricate curl, and a wipe of cleansing soap across the inked skin it was finished. Revealed to both you and Carmen's eyes in all its glory, and you both just stared.

“God, now I wish my first was as good as that instead of wonky stick and poke” Carmen said after a pregnant silence had passed.

“It..wow, yeah. Yep, I want to be buried with this” You said softly, giddiness erupting in your body as you shook your hand grasped in Carmens.

“I’m glad doll, I mean this is meant to be professional but goddamn does your skin just take it. Fuckin’ gorgeous” Monica replied, leaning back as she places the gun on the table near.

“Hey, I'll report you to HR” Carmen bitterly replies, moving you closer to his side as you laugh.

“It’s my business, I am HR” Muttering under her breath as she rolls her eyes. Wrapping your skin in adhesive sheets, Monica repeats the after care instructions, thankfully and this time you listen.

Carmen had already grabbed your things, motioning for you to start heading out after you both furiously thanked Monica for everything. You crinkled with joy as she hugged you, breathing in the smell of old spice and medical grade rubbing alcohol that followed her. 

Her studded rings glistened in the afternoon sun as she waved you both goodbye, as you couldn't help but skip in your stride across the sidewalk. Finger tracing the raised blotted skin, whilst your other hand hung onto Carmen as he twirled you around.

“My gorgeous ink stained sweetheart” Carmen called to you, and you were brought back to his chest gently like a tide again.

“Thank you too, you know” You said into Carmen's cotton shirt. It was the one you got him after your first date, it had been a deep cobalt then. You regretted it just as you gave it to him, fearing you were being too forward. And then he wore it until it faded into a light blue.

“Wouldn't even have this forever on me if you hadn't been the one to bring it up again” You replied softly, fingers tracing his jaw.

“Would have spent a year learning how to tattoo myself if you wanted me too. Monica just seemed quicker” Carmen mumbled before you softly hit his chest with a smile.

“Hey, it’s true. Your skin deserves to be remembered, I could trace it till my fingers atrophied and I’d still have the memory of you under my skin memorised” Carmen divulged, eyelids drooping as he leaned down into your embrace. 

You shake your head, heart panging so deeply it hurt till you pressed your lips to his. Tasting the outpour of Carmen that he let loose into you everyday.

And Carmen had stayed true to his words weeks later when it had healed, tracing it till his fingers weren't enough. Till he had to wrap his mouth around it and taste it with his tongue.

He swears even your inked skin tasted sweet.

tags <3 @parmforcarm @hansfics @kpopgirlbtssvt @nolita-fairytale

[avvwritesstufff]

𝘽𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠 𝙄𝙩 𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠

𝙋𝙍𝙀𝙑𝙄𝙀𝙒- For nearly eight months, Nicole and Paige had been secretly entangled in a relationship that felt equal parts thrilling and dangerous. They’d always known each other, but everything shifted during last year’s tournament. Paige, the star basketball player, and Nicole, the cheer captain—it was the kind of romance that belonged in a teen drama, full of stolen glances and whispered promises. Paige was known for being a player, but with Nicole, it was supposed to be different. Paige swore she loved her, that she’d do anything for her. And for a while, Nicole believed it. Even when she caught Paige in compromising situations more than once, she let it slide. Paige always promised it wouldn’t happen again. Nicole wanted to believe her. She needed to believe her.

𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙈𝙀𝙎- Angst, gaslighter!paige and gullible!oc

𝙒𝙊𝙍𝘿 𝘾𝙊𝙐𝙉𝙏- 1.8k+

𝘼/𝙉- this is NOT read over or anything and it’s so bad so i’m sorry i had to curse your tumblr with this☹️

It was a chilly evening in Storrs, the kind of night where the crisp air made everything feel sharper, more alive. Nicole had just gotten back from her late-night class, feeling the fatigue of the day settle in. Usually, evenings like this were reserved for hanging out with Paige, but tonight was different. Paige had canceled last minute for some team bonding activity that her Coach had insisted on. Nicole didn’t take it personally—she’d been through plenty of those herself and understood how it went.

Still, the change in routine left her at a loose end.

As she kicked off her shoes and considered an early night, her phone buzzed. It was her friends, Hailee, Angie, and Brooklyn.

“You have to come out with us tonight,” Angie insisted. “We haven’t seen you since school started! You’ve practically gone ghost!”

Nicole hesitated, guilt creeping in. They weren’t wrong. Ever since things with Paige had deepened, she’d pulled back from everyone else without really noticing. “Okay, fine. I’m in,” she finally agreed, knowing they wouldn’t take no for an answer.

The best part of going out, Nicole thought as she rummaged through her closet, was always the getting-ready phase. Her dorm buzzed with energy as Hailee, Angie, and Brooklyn arrived, makeup bags in hand.

Loud music blasted from the TV as they crowded around the small mirror, trading tips and compliments while brushes and eyeliner flew around. For the first time in what felt like forever, Nicole let herself relax, laughing at their inside jokes and soaking in the warmth of their company.

“Alright, Nikki,” Angie teased, narrowing her eyes as she applied her lipstick. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

Nicole froze mid-swipe of mascara. “What?” she asked, feigning innocence.

“Oh, come on,” Angie pressed, smirking. “We’re not dumb. You’ve been MIA, and don’t think we haven’t noticed that hickey on your neck.”

Nicole’s hand shot to her neck instinctively. She laughed awkwardly, her cheeks flushing. “It’s not like that. My classes have just been insane this semester.” She stood up quickly and made her way to the kitchen.

Angie raised a skeptical brow, following her. “Right, because classes leave perfectly placed hickeys on your neck. Sure, Nikki. Tell us another one.”

Nicole sighed, realizing she wouldn’t win this battle. “Fine! Yes, I’ve been seeing someone. But it’s really not a big deal.”

Angie’s eyes lit up. “Oh my God, spill! What’s his name?”

Nicole hesitated, thinking fast. “Um… Paul. His name’s Paul. He’s sweet. And hot.”

“Paul?” Angie repeated, tilting her head. “Alright, what’s his last name? Let me look him up on Instagram.”

“Oh, he’s not on Insta,” Nicole replied quickly, pouring herself two shots from the freezer. “He’s more of an off-the-grid kind of guy.”

Angie frowned but before she could press further, Nicole checked her phone. “Wow, would you look at that? It’s already 9:30. Time to go!”

The subject was dropped—for now—as they hurried to get their coats and head out.

The four of them piled into Hailee’s boyfriend’s car, who kindly dropped them off at the local bar. As they walked in, Nicole took in the lively atmosphere: the hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the low beat of music in the background.

The girls claimed a corner table, but Nicole made a beeline for the bar. She ordered a Dirty Shirley—Paige’s favorite—and as the bartender handed her the drink, it hit her.

She hadn’t talked to Paige all night.

PB💕

3:36 pm

Coach said I can't be

on my phone during this

thing, I'll call you later if

I'm not exhausted

Love you💕

(nikki❤️this message)

hey p,

i haven’t heard from

you and wanted to make

sure everything was going

good, i love u❤️

Nicole set her phone down and glanced up, and there she was—Paige. In the middle of the crowded room. With another girl.

Nicole froze. The world around her seemed to blur, her focus locked on the scene unfolding before her. All she could do was sit there, paralyzed, as disbelief washed over her. Paige wasn’t just with someone else—she had lied. And to Nicole, that was the most jarring part. Paige never lied. At least, that’s what Nicole thought she knew.

Time dragged, stretching what was barely a minute into what felt like hours. Finally, Paige looked her way. Their eyes met. Nicole felt a tear slip down her cheek, unbidden and unwelcome. The moment Paige saw her, Nicole broke the connection, pushing herself up and weaving through the tightly packed bodies in the bar. She needed air.

Outside, the cool night air hit her face as she sank onto the steps, staring blankly ahead. Her tears threatened to fall, but she blinked them away, determined not to let them win.

The door burst open behind her.

“Nik! Nicole—thank God. Please, let me explain!” Paige’s voice was frantic as she scanned for her.

Nicole didn’t turn, didn’t flinch. She just stared ahead, her face expressionless.

Paige moved closer. “Ma, come on—” she reached out, her hand brushing Nicole’s arm.

“Don’t touch me.” Nicole’s voice was flat, cold, devoid of the warmth Paige once knew. She jerked her arm away.

Paige knelt in front of her, her voice softer now, pleading. “Let’s go home, Nik. We can talk about this. You’re the only one I care about, you know that. I don’t even know that girl’s name—she came up to me, I swear.”

Nicole hesitated. Her mind raced, torn between fleeing and confronting the betrayal. She exhaled sharply.

“Fine. But let me say goodbye to my friends first.”

Paige nodded, following closely as Nicole re-entered the bar. Nicole wiped her face quickly, masking her turmoil as she approached her friends.

“Guys, don’t kill me,” she said with a forced laugh. “I’ve got an important assignment due in an hour. I promise I’ll stay longer next time!”

They groaned but hugged her goodbye, none of them catching the storm beneath her calm exterior.

Outside again, the silence between them was heavy. Once in the car, Paige started the engine, glancing nervously at Nicole.

“Nicole, you know you’re the only one I want. I was trying to push her off me, I promise—”

“No.” Nicole’s voice cut her off, sharp and steady. “Stop that. You don’t get to promise or swear on anything anymore. You’re a liar, Paige. And I’m not stupid. This isn’t the first girl, and it won’t be the last.”

Her voice cracked, but she kept her eyes fixed ahead. Paige reached out, but Nicole flinched.

“Baby, come on. You know I’d never—”

“Stop calling me that,” Nicole snapped, her voice rising. “You’re a narcissistic piece of shit, and I never should’ve agreed to this. You can’t commit to anything but basketball.”

Paige’s jaw tightened, her frustration bubbling over. “Nik, what the fuck. You don’t even know what you’re saying.”

Nicole let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, I know exactly what I’m saying. How many, Paige? How many girls have you cheated on me with? Actually, forget it—I don’t want to know. Let me out.”

“What? Are you serious? The car’s moving, Nicole!” Paige veered onto the shoulder, her voice rising.

“Let me out!” Nicole fumbled with her seatbelt, finally yanking the door open.

“Nicole, stop! You’re drunk!” Paige shouted, pulling the car to a screeching halt as Nicole stumbled onto the pavement.

Ignoring her, Nicole began walking down the dark street.

“Nicole, get back in the car!” Paige called after her, panic lacing her voice. “I’m not leaving you out here in the cold!”

“Leave me alone, Paige. My dorm’s two blocks away.” Nicole’s voice was slurred but defiant as she staggered forward.

Paige caught up to her, grabbing her arm just as Nicole tripped. She steadied her, their eyes meeting. For a brief moment, Nicole saw a flicker of the Paige she had fallen for—the girl who had made the last eight months feel like a dream.

Without a word, Nicole turned and walked back to the car. Paige followed, a small, hopeful smile creeping onto her face.

“Just because i’m in the car doesn’t mean we are good paige” nicole states turning toward the door and leaning against it

The ride back was short, but the silence between them was deafening.

When they arrived at the apartment building, Paige helped Nicole out of the car, steadying her as they walked to her dorm. The night air was cold, but the silence between them was colder.

At the door, Paige hesitated, then pushed it open and followed Nicole inside.

“Out,” Nicole said, her voice low and sharp, pointing at the door.

Paige ignored her, forcing a soft smile. “Baby, you’re just drunk. I don’t wanna leave you alone like this.” She closed the door behind her and gently guided Nicole toward her bedroom.

Nicole didn’t argue, too drained to fight. She sat on the edge of her bed, watching Paige through tired, narrowed eyes. Paige set her phone down on the nightstand and knelt in front of her, slipping off Nicole’s shoes with care.

“I got you,” Paige murmured, her voice soft, almost tender. She helped Nicole out of her jacket, then started removing her makeup with a tissue from the bedside table.

Nicole didn’t say a word, just stared at Paige, trying to decide if this was love or manipulation.

“I’m gonna grab you some water,” Paige said, standing up. “Try to lie down.”

As Paige left the room, Nicole let out a shaky breath. Her eyes landed on the phone Paige had left on the nightstand. It lit up with a notification.

Snapchat: Nessa🤫🍑📞

Nicole’s stomach churned. She picked up the phone, her fingers trembling as she unlocked it—no password. The messages stared back at her:

Nessa🤫🍑📞: When are you gonna be here? I neeeed you, Paige.

Nessa🤫🍑📞: Bro, are you seriously ignoring me because of that girl you’re “with”? Like, come on, Paige. You know I’m the one—not her.🙄

Nicole’s blood ran cold. Every doubt, every suspicion she’d tried to push aside slammed into her like a freight train.

Paige walked back in, a glass of water in hand. She stopped in her tracks when she saw Nicole standing there, holding her phone.

Nicole handed it to her without a word. “Get out.”

Paige opened her mouth, but the look in Nicole’s eyes stopped her. It wasn’t anger; it was something colder, something final. Nicole stepped past her and opened the door, standing silently as she waited.

Paige hesitated, her fingers tightening around her phone. She wanted to fight, to explain, but she knew better. She could come back tomorrow. She always did. Say she was sorry, promise Nicole the world, and somehow, break it right back.

Without a word, Paige walked out.

Nicole closed the door, locking it behind her. She leaned against it, sliding down to the floor. The tears came then, silent but relentless, each one carving out a piece of the love she’d held for Paige.

For the first time, she let herself wonder if she could ever put the pieces back together.

[frissy]

Earth42! Miles Morales x fem!spider/1610!Reader

(Part 1) Part 2

MAJOR ATSV SPOILERS

• Earth 1610 Miles Morales

• You are also a spider person on Earth 1610 with Earth 42 spider DNA like Miles

• Takes place right before, and when Miles (and you) are sent to Earth 42

• possessive Earth 42 Miles

• You and Earth 1610 Miles are not in a romantic relationship

• mentions of death, guns, and blood

• violence

• angst and fluff

• some OOC Earth 42 Miles

• not proofread

Let’s do this.. one more time. Hey, I’m [name] from Earth 1610. You’ve heard the story before, I was bitten by a radioactive spider. And for over a year, I’ve been one of Brooklyn’s spider-people, along with my best friend, Miles Morales.

We keep the peace in the city, and we protect it. but.. sometimes it’s hard. Keeping our normal lives balanced with our crime fighting lives… but somehow, we still find time for each other. . End of introduction….

.

.

.

.

.

“DON’T LET THEM LEAVE. THEY CAN’T LEAVE.” Miguel O’Hara was shouting out at every other spider person trying to get to you and Miles.

It turns out, you guys were anomalies. You weren’t supposed to be spider-people.

But the chasing was no use, you two already made it to the machine that could send you home.

Somehow, you two managed to get inside as the almost mechanic-looking-spider began to crawl from the celling and read your DNA and build a web around you two to send you home.

But Miguel lunged over, clawing at the web, almost breaking it. He was trying to get to you and Miles. But it was no use. The avatar, who responsible for the machine looked at you and Miles with sympathy. And she pressed the ‘yes’ button to send you home. .

.

.

.

You both were shot onto a roof of an apartment complex. The one that Miles lived in. However he was lucky, and ended up near his room. .

Meanwhile you were shot out onto the roof, hitting your head. On concrete, which knocked you out. .

.

with miles…

.

“Miles?” A familiar voice echoed. Entering his room. It was his mom! .

“Mom!” He walked over to her. “what did you do to your hair?”

“nothing? Mom. I have to tell you something. But you have to promise me you won’t get mad.”

“Of course Miles. What is it?”

“you’ll still love me, right?”

“yes of course. Now what is it?”

Miles took a deep breath.

“Mom.. I’m Spider-Man.”

… “who’s Spider-Man?”

his stomach dropped. He tried explaining to her.. but she was brushing him off.

“So, you shoot webs out your butt?” She laughed. “No.. but I did have a nightmare about that once—“

He heard the apartment door open. He felt sick. Even more sick when he heard his voice.

it was his uncle Aaron… but how.

He couldn’t understand what his mom and uncle Aaron were talking about. He was in shock. But Aaron noticed him.

“Miles. Lets go.”

“oh.. okay.” Miles left his room. Walking with his.. uncle out of the apartment onto the roof.

.

.

.

Meanwhile…

.

“ah.. fuck.” You groaned, standing up. You couldn’t believe you got knocked out like that. You rubbed your head.. then you looked up.

Brooklyn was in shambles. .

Then it all clicked. This, this was not your earth.

You remembered Miguel’s words. .

“BECAUSE OF YOU TWO, THERE’S AN EARTH OUT THERE WITH NO SPIDER-MAN TO PROTECT IT.” .

How stupid could you and Miles have been? The machine reads the spider DNA.

the spider was from Earth 42… not 1610. You were mortified by this Earth’s Brooklyn. .

But it got worse. So much worse. You turned around.. facing a giant brick wall. Miles’s dad was staring right back at you. .

But your own face was looking right back at you too. .

You felt like passing out again. .

You were dead, you were dead in this universe. .

The door to the roof open. Put came Miles… and Aaron. He looked just as mortified as you. Seeing Brooklyn, and the mural.

That’s when you felt a sharp ping in your neck, and the last thing you heard was,

“I TOLD YOU TO WAIT!”

Your body didn’t hit the ground.. someone had caught you in their arms.

.

.

“I told you to wait for my signal.” Aaron said looking at his nephew, who held you as if you were as delicate as porcelain.

Who held you how he would always do.

Aaron had Miles slumped over his shoulder.

“I know. Unc.. but couldn’t help it.” .

Aaron sighed, and looked at his nephew who’s looked at your unconscious, breathing figure as if he had just found something that had been lost for a long time.

he looked at you, barely whispering, putting a hand on your cheek. “Mi querida..”

Aaron sighed at his behavior.

“That’s not your girl.” Aaron told his nephew, “Remember that.” He said, pointing at the mural behind him.

.

Miles didn’t reply. Instead he brought your body closer to him, and held you tighter.

He wanted to feel the ride and fall of your chest.

He wanted to hear your breathing.

And doing that, he felt something he hasn’t felt in so long. .

“I know she’s not my girl.” Miles replied. His voice was shaky and he didn’t take his eyes off you. .

But I can make her my girl.

He thought to himself.

.

.

.

.

.

TO BE CONTINUED….

[imtryingbuck]

Black velvet

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!Reader

Summary: you and Nat are dating, recently you’ve been arguing really bad. 

Word count: 1370

Warnings: angst, swearing, Nat being a major bitch&a terrible girlfriend. Name calling bitch/slut. Accusations/confessions to cheating, past cheating

Translation: kotenok - kitten / милая девушка - beautiful girl

A/N: I’m leaving the ending the way it is so you can decide what happens

Masterlist

Dating the former Black Widow came with its fair share of ups and downs, for weeks - or if you’re really lucky a few months - the pair of you can both be happy and loving towards each other but then something would happen to annoy her causing her to take it out on you.

When it’s good, it’s incredible. The love she feels for you radiates off of her, the warmth in her arms could leave you warm all winter, her voice sounded like a melody. You loved it when everything was perfect.

When it was bad, oh it was terrible. You were often convinced she hated you, just by the way she looked at you. You didn’t have to touch her to feel the coldness coming from her, just standing across the room from her kept you frozen in place. Her voice always dropped a few octaves when she shouted at you, and some of the names she called you broke your heart over and over again.

Just like last week, you’d been arguing for the past few hours. At this point in this weeks argument you didn’t even know what started it. But what you did know is that it completely spiralled out of control-

“Oh stop fucking crying Y/n! It gets boring”

Not wanting to make her more angrier you try so hard to stop the heavy flow of tears.

“Why can’t you be normal huh? And answer me instead of sitting there and whimpering”

“I-I do-don’t know what I’ve do-done wrong”

“You was all over Steve!” She screamed, making you flinch “Be fucking normal Y/n, he doesn’t want you. Nobody does!”

“I-I was talking to him about growing up in Brooklyn, we were just tal-“

“You want to fuck him don’t you? You’re a fucking slut!” Throwing a vase at the wall, just inches away from your face causing you to scream in fear.

In the two years you’ve been dating, throughout all the arguments and her mood swings you have never been this scared off her.

The door comes flying open revealing Steve, Tony, Sam and Wanda.

“Oh the man of the hour!” Nat points at Steve chuckling to herself.

Steve and Wanda makes their way over to you “Come with me Y/n/n, it’s okay I promise” Wanda softly tries to coax you towards her.

“You leave with them Y/n it’s finished between us I’m done I mean it!” And the worst part of it all was that she was telling the truth.

You was torn between your heart and your brain. Heart wanted to stay because deep down you knew she loves you, but your brain was telling you this was your chance, this was your chance to get away from the mental anguish she was putting you through.

So you listened to the smarter one out of the two organs. Your brain.

With a shaky hand, you put yours into Wanda’s and stood up, putting one foot in front of the other, you walked out of the room.

The names Nat called you were more vile than the last, making you flinch at each word.

Just as you got down the corridor to the elevators you heard her screams, your heart ached at the sound and you almost turned on your heels to run back to her, if Wanda didn’t hold your hand in such a tight grip, you would of.

That night both Steve and Wanda took you home, even staying the night. They didn’t try and ask you about what had happened, because you still don’t know.

You were so grateful for the pair, felt terrible when you realised you were the reason they were out of bed.

The next morning Nat rang you and when you wasn’t picking up she was sending messages, all asking ‘where are you’ ‘are we still on for lunch’. Natasha always blacked out during arguments so when the next day came she didn’t remember anything, which nine out of ten times led to another argument because she was calling you a liar.

Later that day she came to your apartment, knocking on the door like a mad woman. Wanda got up to answer it, you could hear them two arguing from where you was sat. Nat pushed Wanda out of the way, just as Steve came out of the bathroom with a towel hanging on his hips. Another problem being was that you had, had a shower half an hour before Steve did…

“I fucking knew it! I knew you was fucking him. I shouldn’t be surprised really, it’s okay though kotenok I’ve been cheating on you since your birthday, I was late home remember? Yeah I was fucking Kylie” Kylie was a friend of yours who you knew since school. Your birthday was 5 months ago.

You didn’t even say anything, you just ran into the bathroom and emptied the contents of your stomach in the toilet.

Now a week on you haven’t seen or heard from Nat, Wanda did let you know that Kylie was always at the tower - you had asked her just to cause yourself more heartache. You also found out that everyone had fell out with your now ex girlfriend which pained your heart, you didn’t want any trouble between the friendship group.

Instead of putting one of the bags down to make life easier for yourself you continued to let yourself struggle to open the front door, when it finally unlocked you gave yourself a little cheer.

As you were putting things away in the fridge, head in the clouds, you couldn’t stop the scream from coming out when a cough came from behind you.

Turning round you sighed at the sight of Nat standing in front of you. “What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk”

“Nothing to talk about Natasha so please leave”

“Kotenok I lied to you, I didn’t cheat on you I swear! Not once”

Much to the redheads surprise you was always able to read her like a book but standing here in front of her, you couldn’t tell if she was telling the truth or not. And that scared you.

You had doubts about being in a relationship with Natasha not because she flirted with anyone with a pulse, or because she came home one night smelling of someone else but because she was Natasha Romanoff - beautiful, strong, independent, many more ways to describe Natasha and you was…well you. She could have had anyone but she choose you, so of course you had your doubts.

Six years prior to meeting her, your ex was standing in the kitchen of your old apartment saying the exact same thing. You apologised for overreacting then three days later you came home to an empty apartment, everything was gone - everything you worked so hard for was cleaned out. You later found out that you were correct in overreacting as she was cheating on you, and not only that but it was with Kylie’s now ex girlfriend and just to top it off, all the things your ex stole was sold to fund their new life together.

What scared you the most was if you forgave her and everything she said was false, you weren’t sure if you could trust any other human being ever again.

“Baby please say something”

“I-I don’t know what to say…”

“Anything Y/n”

“You knew about my ex, I told you that the woman she cheated on me with was Kylie’s ex so why, why would you make out that you was cheating on me with her?”

“I was mad, I see your hair still wet and then Steve coming from the bathroom only in a towel I-I got mad and said it”

“But why her? Why her out of all people?”

“Because…because she’s been helping me with something”

Your eyebrows burrowed in confusion. “Helping you cheat on me?”

“No no милая девушка, I-I, this isn’t what I had planned baby it really wasn’t but-“ Nat drops to one knee and pulls out a black velvet box “I love you Y/n always and I hope you’ll do me the honour of being my wife”

“I…”

~ banner credit goes to @sweetpeapod ~

[builder051]

NaNo 2024 day 16: From the diary of Steven Grant Rogers

(Canon departure post Civil War— Steve takes Bucky home instead of taking him to Wakanda)

Note: This is Steve’s (first person) perspective, and all of the he/him pronouns refer to Bucky. I want this to be both realistic as a stream-of-conscious diary entry and a well-rounded piece of writing.

Note: No trigger warnings. No plot. Not a sickfic (sorry).

——————————

Now that everyone knows his name, everyone knows his reputation. But he’s not ruthless and soulless. That’s not the man I know. That’s not the man I see. But then again, that’s looking through my filter.

I’ll never forget the day he invited me to Thanksgiving. It wasn’t so much an invitation as a masked order with enticing details tagged on the end. With Ma having just passed, I put on my own version of hard and cold. It’s not a good look on either one of us. I wish coming off the ice would’ve pushed away some of the raw grief of losing him. But even now, I look into his face, and I know he’s still lost.

It’s almost worse when he’s in the here and now. He knows what the public thinks of him, and he knows they’re right. It was never his fault, never his choice to be turned into a weapon of mass destruction. It’s lucky HYDRA failed in the end and left a little piece of him behind in his brain, because that’s what we’re teasing out day by day. I’m well aware of what else is left in his brain, and I know it’s luckier still that he hasn’t tried to strangle me.

I’ve tried to learn about the elasticity and healing properties of the human brain. Today’s combat vets aren’t coming away quite so bad, though I doubt any treatment could hijack him back into the person he used to be.

When we first got back stateside, I got us a place in Brooklyn. The skyline’s a little different from when we left it, but I thought he might like something familiar. I’m constantly thinking about what he might like. I don’t mind taking the lead on a project, but it’s different when it comes to how someone should think or act. I don’t think I aught to be in charge. When it comes down to it, the decades that’ve passed mean nothing. He’s lived more than I have. Survived more than I have. More than I can ever imagine.

When I first set up the bedroom, I made it like barracks. Two single beds pushed up against the walls and just the basics on the side tables. The same way as everything else, I don’t want to stress him about sleep. I want him to get comfortable in his memories on his own time.

Last night I had a shower and dressed for bed in the hall bathroom, trying not to make too much noise since he’d called it an early night. When I walked into the bedroom, I found him on my side of the room, shirtless and stretched out on his stomach, my sheets and blanket bunched up against his chest. I stood there awkwardly for a moment, trying my best not to breathe. He still must’ve sensed my presence, because he shifted a little to the side and extended his arm. His eyes were still shut and his face still buried in the pillow. He might’ve been thinking of strangling me, but through my filter, it looked like love.

[so-long-soldier-writes]

Brooklyn

kai parker x reader

kai finds you wearing his shirt

tags: fluff, love confessions, cupcakes, first kiss

word count: 1.9k

“That shirt looks familiar.”

“Mhm,” you mutter, neither confirming nor denying Damon’s questioning statement.

“Swear I’ve seen it before…”

Shrugging, you grab a cupcake off the counter. “What are these for?”

“Caroline was bored. Fair game, she said.”

“Cool. Tell her I said thanks.”

“Yeah. Hey, have you seen Bonnie?”

“Not recently. Maybe she has a class? It’s only eleven.”

“Ehh, I’ll ask Elena.”

“Okay.”

He takes one more look at you, or, more so, the gray Brooklyn shirt loosely fit on your body. “I can’t place it but it’s bothering the hell out of me.”

The sound of the boarding house door opening distracts you both. 

“Bonnie, that you?” Damon calls expectantly.

“Nope, me.” Sporting a smirk, Kai walks into the kitchen.

“Ugh, why!” The older groans, “why do you still live here?!”

“Funniest thing - I don’t know where else to go, and you actually want me nearby so you can ‘keep an eye on me’. Plus, she’s here,” he points to you. “Is that my shirt?”

A smile was already on your face from Kai’s first comment, but it grows wider at his realization, “Mhm!”

“I knew it looked familiar! Ew, why are you wearing his shirt, YN?!”

For once, Kai agrees with Damon, “I hate that shirt.”

“Well I like it.”

“Why?” Damon repeats.

“I don’t know… because it’s… soft,” you start to blush, “and smells like you.”

“Ugh, get a room, you two!”

“We are in a room. You get out of the room.”

“A kitchen is not a room, Parker.”

“Kai,” you interrupt their mini-argument, “fair game cupcakes!”

“Wait, really? I’m not gonna get in trouble this time?”

“Nope! Damon said Caroline said ‘fair game’!”

“Hold on now, you two better not eat all of those. Just because they’re fair game doesn’t mean Caroline won’t miss them. She was up from two till six in the morning baking them because she couldn’t sleep.”

“Why?” 

“I don’t know, it’s Caroline. Regardless, don’t eat them all.”

“We won’t. Just one and then Kai and I will go.”

As you speak, the door opens again, but then abruptly closes. No one walks into the kitchen, and no other sound is made. 

“Umm… I’m going to go check on that,” Damon eyes the foyer suspiciously. “You two, stay put.”

Alone, Kai turns to you. “So… my shirt…”

“Do you want it back?”

“No, no, you can keep it. Like I said, I hate that shirt. But why are you wearing it?”

“I told you, silly. It’s soft and it smells like you.”

“Why would you want it to smell like me?”

Blush overtakes your cheeks and you have to look away from his face. 

“Y/N, you okay?” When you don’t answer, he puts a hand on your knee. “Hey. You’re worrying me now.”

You muster up a bit of courage to look up, “I’m okay. Just… I don’t know, it’s comforting. Makes me feel close to you.” Then you add, “I’m sorry.”

“What? Don’t be sorry.” His eyes check over you completely, and your words finally sink in. Oh. This is one of those emotions I’m still figuring out. Thanks, Luke. “Um, to be honest…” Just admit it. It’s Y/N, you don’t have to hide feelings from her. “You look hot in it.”

“Wait, really?” You swear your blush darkens a shade. “You’re not mad I’m wearing it?”

“Of course not. I was just surprised. But no, yeah…” He doesn’t finish his sentence, but you do notice how he’s neglected his cupcake to run his gaze along your body. As if he’s found a more interesting dessert…

Kai’s mouth parts slightly. His tongue licks his lower lip and he takes a deep breath. “Can I-”

“No worries, guys! It’s Elena,” Damon re-enters the room with the girl hot on his trail. “She heard Y/N say Kai’s name and didn’t want to have to see him, so she tried to make a quiet exit. Unfortunately for her, I tracked her down so I wouldn’t have to suffer with you alone.”

The last few syllables leave more quietly as he notices your proximity. “What’s going on here?”

“Nothing,” you smile sweetly, popping off the counter. “I have class at noon and Kai’s gonna walk me there. Tell Care thanks again for the cupcakes.”

“Uh, okay. Bye, then, I guess.”

“If I see Bonnie, I’ll tell her you’re looking for her.” 

“Cool, thanks. But don’t bring Kai too close to her.”

You roll your eyes, “of course, yes, I’ll watch out for the little witch’s feelings. No matter how stupid or irrational they are.”

“Y/N,” Damon warns.

“Kidding. But seriously, out of everyone we’ve faced and she’s most scared of Kai? It’s laughable.” A second later, you change your demeanor. “Anyway, see you guys later! Come on, Kai.”

As you leave, you hear Elena mutter, “bitch.” 

It makes you laugh. And when Kai sees you laughing, despite being angered at her choice of word for you, he can’t help but chuckle. 

“Do you really have a class at noon?” Kai asks as you walk farther into the woods behind the Salvatore house. 

“Nah, I just wanted to get away. My class is at two.”

“Oh.”

The two of you sit on rocks in a clearing. It’s always been your go-to hiding spot, but it’s a place you don’t mind sharing with him. 

“So what were you saying earlier? Before Thing #1 and Thing #2 showed up?”

He laughs at the nicknames. “Well… I was saying you looked hot in my shirt. And you still do. I, uh, was also going to ask if I could admit something, though.”

You feel a lump in your throat, “of course. You can always talk to me, Kai.”

“Yeah… I know. That’s the only reason I’m comfortable telling you this. I’m still not really sure of my emotions; I’m trying to figure them out, but they’re messy, and it’s hard. Like, for most of my childhood, and the time spent in the prison world, I was angry, and also, numb. I guess I’m learning a lot of the numbness maybe was loneliness, I’m not sure. But being around you, I’ve never felt either of those emotions. I have like, a whole new set of emotions, and have been trying to Google what they are. Of course, I still feel the anger and the numbness  - like when Damon scolded you the other day for finishing his bourbon, I was angry - but I’ve never felt that way towards you. Anyway, one of the things I searched for was for a feeling of like, bugs… but in my stomach. And it said I either have gastroenteritis, or that I’m in love. Considering I’m never sick, and I’ve never felt like this before, but I do know that I think I love you, I’m going to go with the latter and uh, I guess, admit that I love you.” He only stops rambling for a second to catch his breath, “and it wasn’t just today that I realized this. I did the Google search, like, weeks ago, but I’ve been looking for supporting evidence to confirm if it’s really love, but it is. Seeing you in my shirt, hearing you say it’s comforting to feel like I’m close to you, really, uh, solidified it.”

You’re speechless. Here is this boy - that you love - admitting he’s in love with you. A boy who has never really experienced love before, to the best of your knowledge. 

“Of course, the hot part of seeing you in my shirt was nothing new. I’m not a stranger to that. Even though I’ve never actually, uh… never mind. But I’ve never wanted nor felt the love alongside the… lust, but uh… surprise… you make me feel both. So, um, please say something, Y/N, I can’t stop talking.”

You finally snap out of your haze, blurting out, “I love you, too. I’ve also known for weeks, but didn’t want to scare you away, or mess up our friendship. That’s actually part of the reason I sought out your shirt. Knew it was one you wouldn’t miss too much, but definitely gives me a sense of having you close to me.”

“Wait, really?”

“I’m sure. To be honest, I had a crush on you even before the whole merging thing. But then watching movies here, spending nights at The Grill together… I mean, first I just thought you were cute, then I loved hearing you talk, then I don’t know, at some point I fell for you.”

“You think I’m cute?”

“Have you looked in a mirror?” You blurt out without a second thought. Blush covers your cheeks immediately; it paints Kai’s face, too. “Yes, Kai, I think you’re cute. And you have a sweet side that you don’t show often, but I’ve seen it. And you’re loyal to people that you know you can trust, and I’d trust you with my life.”

The all-powerful leader of the Gemini Coven is at a loss for words.

“May I also add, you’re not just cute… it was pretty hot that time you choked that guy for information at The Grill. When you asked me to look up the location he finally revealed and I took a minute to respond, it was because I was distracted by your hands. The way your fingers curled around his neck, and how your rings rested against his veins. So, um, the lust goes both ways. Just so you know.”

He’s still speechless, but swallows hard. “Didn’t realize I had that effect on you. I thought you were just bored.”

“You could never bore me, Kai.”

As if that single sentence were a love language, he crawls closer to you. “Can… can I kiss you?” He stutters on his words.

“Please do.”

He starts slow at first, taking your face in his hands. Feeling the shape of your jaw; the softness of your skin. His eyes search for hesitancy in your own, but upon seeing none, settle on your lips. He moves in at the same pace, making the first kiss so gentle, it barely feels like he’s there. 

“Kai,” you whine.

Hearing his name come from your lips finally does him in. He deepens the kiss, grabbing a tighter hold of your face. Your hands go to his hair, pulling at it just a little. One hand travels down to your neck, and the cold metal of a ring makes you groan. Though almost as quickly as it started, it ends. Kai takes a deep breath after breaking it off, during which you can’t help but notice his eyes have turned almost black. 

“Just what I mean - cute, but hot.” You’re slightly out of breath yourself, but not as bad as he is.  

Kai smiles, then leans back, still panting. “Can I make another confession?”

“Always.”

“That was my first kiss.”

You stare at him. “Ever?”

“No touching, remember? Could barely leave my room, let alone find a girl to kiss. Then there’s the isolation,” he pauses. “But it’s okay. I’d go through all of it over and over if it means that when I get out, I get to kiss you.”

Your heart flutters like a thousand butterflies have taken flight, and you rush to capture him in another kiss. “I love you, Kai,” you mutter against his lips. 

He breaks it apart to smile, “I love you, too.” 

[stellasvault]

I’m not exactly sure where to go for requests so I’m gonna assume this is okay (I’m new to making requests 😭😭😭) but we all know that Miles grew up in New York and loves the culture there and I just think it would be really funny if he had a girlfriend who was from a very rural southern area and she isn’t used to city life at all. Idk just a silly little thing that popped into my head that I think was cute

ur in the right place don’t worry!! also ur right this is such a funny idea i love it, thank u for requesting! 💜

“sorry, i’m not a city gal”

pairings: 1610!miles morales x fem!reader

warnings: sfw, reader and miles are kinda in a long distance relationship

you loved miles, you really did. you loved everything about him.

his adorable cheeky smile when he was genuinely happy, the way he awkwardly held your hand when he was feeling clingy. there was just one thing you didn’t understand:

how did he live in such a large and loud place?

you had grown up in a country area where everyone was spread out and cars were consistently used to go basically.. everywhere. so it was definitely a change when you first arrived in brooklyn with no idea where you were going. you were fresh out the train, dusting yourself off and adjusting your headphones.

you already didn’t like this place. did people seriously just be this disrespectful and live with it? chewed gum and stickers blanketed the walls and ground, and you swore you heard the sound of tiny feet scurrying. rats? blegh, you didn’t even want to think about it.

ok.. you thought, just find his apartment, and walk up to his floor. that’s it. you reassured yourself, looking at your cell to remind yourself of the directions.

it took lots of turns, retracing your steps, and asking strangers who had no interest in you, but you made it. you looked up at the tall building blanketed in graffiti.

what if they talk in city slang and i don’t understand? you panicked, biting your freshly-manicured nails. or what if miles decides he wants to break up?! you got yourself even more riled up with your horrible scenarios, fidgeting with your phone.

your panicking was interrupted by your phone’s familiar ringtone, vibrating in your palm. you picked up, still nervous. you perked up as you heard the voice you loved so much: the voice of your boyfriend, miles.

“mi amor, you okay?” he spoke into the phone, obviously anxious to talk to you.

you smiled at his usual awkward reaction. “yeah miles, i’m fine. what’s up?” your visit had been planned for days, carefully organized so that it would fit both of your schedules.

he sighed. “my parents, they won’t let us go out until they talk to you…” he trailed off apologetically, knowing talking to rio and jeff could be a challenge.

you gasped sharply. again?! what do they want this time? you thought to yourself, ridden with fear.

“hey, i can feel you being nervous from all the way over here!” he laughed into the speaker, it was almost like you could hear his stupid grin. “it’s fine. they just want to make sure you’re ‘respectful’ or whatever.” he reassured you.

you felt a smile tugging at your lips, your boyfriend was too adorable for his own good. you sighed in a mockingly dramatic way. “fine, if you insist.” you heard him mutter ‘yes!’ in victory, making you giggle.

“see you soon?” he asked rhetorically.

“soon.” you repeated excitedly, before rushing up the stairs of the apartment.

—————————————————————————

the last hour had been a blur of sweating nervously, having laughing attacks, and sneaking tight squeezes of the hands when mrs. morales & captain morales weren’t looking. you couldn’t even count the amount of times mrs. morales had corrected you on her and her husbands names.

you now sat at the top of the apartment. it was dark, but the lights of the city illuminated the sky beautifully. miles had shared this was one of his favorite places to think, his favorite place, however, was where his late uncle told him how to spray paint.

“it can’t be that bad!” miles laughed, playfully shoving your shoulder.

you sucked your teeth. “i’m afraid it is that bad.” you placed the piece of scrap paper even closer to your chest, making sure it was completely hidden.

“if you show me, i swear i’ll show you my sketches!” he promised, waving around his chunky sketchbook in his hand.

you debated whether not to give in, all the outcomes running through your head. but, the lingering curiosity got to you, you knew you had no choice.

“if you laugh, all those precious figures of yours are going straight out of the packaging.” you warned him with gritted teeth. the anger you showed was hiding your plain anxiousness. miles absolutely adored art, you knew that. but what if yours wasn’t good enough?

he shrugged, confident that he wouldn’t let out a single chuckle. you slowly turned around the white paper to reveal a sketch of miles. in the picture, a slight smile was tugging at his lips, and his eyes seemed to shine through the paper somehow.

he almost immediately tugged the portait into his hands, observing it silently. “wow..” was all he could say.

you squirmed slightly. all his face showed was that he was definitely focused, but did he like it?

“mami, this is amazing.” he turned his head to look at you in awe, but his expression showed he was getting a burst of energy. “how did you hide this from me? you always insist you never want to draw, but there’s no way you’re bad at this!” he laughed, grabbing one of your hands with his free one.

you tried to decipher whether he was just trying to be nice or if he was being honest.

“so let’s see that sketchbook.” you smirked. his face scrunched up in anger.

“i hate you..” he muttered under his breath as he flipped through his book.

“and i love you.” you cupped his face and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek.

—————————————————————————

AHHHH I LOVE MILES ☹️☹️

thanks for reading! likes and reblogs mean the literal world to me <3

•☘️☘️☘️

[stormandforge]

Raw reactions to X-Force #6

This issue is a feast for Forge and Sage fans. I am both. I am eating well.

Spoilers below.

Note: I took down the initial version of this post because I wasn’t happy with it. Apologies for any confusion - the old brain is restless this week.

*points to blog name* I will deal with this aspect of things in a separate post, because I have too much to say. Happy things.

What comes to mind when you think of Forge? I’ll bet it’s his power, Storm, the power neutraliser gun, his status as a war vet, his magic, and if you’ve been paying closer attention, his super cool house, his simulations and Mystique. True believer, all of these things feature in this issue in some way or other. (With the exception of the magic, but that’s because Marvel won’t let Geoff Thorne write about it.) It’s a Forge fest. And what’s even better, all of these characteristics and connections are shown to be evolving. For example: Forge's guilt is no longer about Storm; it's about Surge. All writers have given him for the last 40 years is guilt and shame over the power neutraliser gun, but Thorne has given him something new to atone for. Character development. For Forge. Never thought I’d see the day.

The warrior speech is perfection. A respectful cultural reference acting as metaphor for Forge’s evolution as a character. I don't know if a Native reader would find it overdone, but to me it felt like an impactful nod to his heritage that wasn't cartoonish, for once.

I hope the mention of him abandoning his family and tribe means we’re going to get more backstory. I so want that for him.

So, Forge’s simulations. I don’t like them. They’re too easily misconstrued, and they make my boy look like a bit of a pervert. So I was a bit apprehensive going into this issue – especially since it was meant to feature both Storm and Mystique. In the end, does Forge emerge looking like a creep? No. Does he emerge looking like he needs to have his head examined? Definitely. Which is completely fair.

I've seen people complain that the characterisation of Storm and Mystique was simplistic. Guys, that’s not Storm and Mystique. That’s Storm and Mystique as seen by Forge. Big difference. Can you imagine Ororo lovingly stroking his hair after finding out he sacrificed Nori? LOL. Me neither.

The Aerie lives! But it looks like…a corner loft in Brooklyn? I have to take back some of what I said about the art in my previous post on this issue: I did cringe in places. But I also know very little about art, so it’s down to personal preference.

What kind of Benjamin Percy nonsense is that in Forge's fridge? Can we please let his protein shake/gym bunny phase die with Krakoa? It didn’t make sense then and it still doesn’t now. This is the man who got Ororo in bed through the power of his cooking, why would he survive on supplements?

We have a villain, people! Her name is La Diabla, and she is a mood all to herself. She gives off classic villain vibes, she cackles like a witch, she eats pop-corn while you're getting zapped by your ex, she singsongs the word "punishment" and she wears an all-purple outfit. Also: her name is Corazón Estrada. CORAZÓN ESTRADA. That's the most over-the-top Spanish name I've heard after the names of my own ancestors. (Or maybe Spanish names just sound dramatic. Either way, I love it.)

More things to like about La Diabla. 1/ The alchemy thing. It's magic, but reimagined, since it dabbles in science. It feels new to me in the context of Marvel, so I'm curious. Tailor-made for Forge, too. 2/ By being the official villain, she exonerates Forge. By comparison, anyway. There’s no way this man is completely clean.

You know who else is a fucking legend? You guessed it, it’s Sage. Look at her, just look at her please, crashing Forge's little holo-show with a Matrix-style entrance, reading him for filth and solving the ongoing mystery in under 4 pages. Oh, and she destroys the very concept of Mystique while she’s at it. THE FIRE. THE SLAY.

“faux-roro”, “let’s not play dueling mutations”, “placebo-Surge”, “lazy mercenary tier” – the zingers in this issue! I love it when you can tell a writer is having fun with a character.

Ok, I’m going to say it. As soon as I realised, quite early on, that Forge would be hanging out with holograms of his exes in this issue, my shippy heart started praying: let Sage shut that shit down. And that’s exactly what she did. Could be, you know, symbolic - her being the one who helps him snap out of it. Just saying.

Yes, I’m still shipping my two nerds. Their dynamic has me entranced. I love how they play off each other – intellectually at odds but riding the same brainwave when it matters. I love the open way they always talk to each other. I even love their conflict, it’s what makes things interesting.

Sage isn’t narrating in this issue, but her line "I'm thinking. Of course I am, I'm always thinking" still makes an appearance in dialogue– and it’s Forge who says it. Is he quoting her? How can he know this line? It’s also possible that it’s Sage who’s been quoting Forge all along, since we don’t know how far in the future Sage’s narrative voice is. Or it’s simply a gimmick. In any case, it’s cute.

[stupid-gay-slvt]

‼️JEDTAVIUS FIC‼️

WARNINGS: Canon divergence, implied horniness

Description: set in a universe where Ahkmenrah changes his mind last minute to return to Brooklyn with the tablet. Jed is facing some confusion over some feelings he’s experiencing about Octavius. (Side note: I love the idea of Jed having some issues overcoming homophobia due to his historical era, but i really didn’t want to mess with that tonight)

It had been a week since the gang had returned from London. Jedediah had spent all night so far working on the train tracks. Moving rail sleepers, removing broken ones and replacing them. It was tiring work, even with his small crew of helpers. He found himself with rolled-up sleeves and his hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, strands of escaped sandy hair framed his sweaty face.

He hadn’t seen Octavius in a couple of days, and what he had seen of him since their return had been brief. He told himself that they were just busy restoring order in their respective dioramas, it had been a near-death experience and they were all coping with the fact that they almost all froze forever. Though that was partially true, deep down Jed knew there was another reason.

Something had… awakened… in Jed that night in London. He always knew there was something special about that Roman, Jed knew he loved to be around the general. But something had happened inside Jed when Octavious had taken his hand, when they had hugged. Just thinking about the touch made Jed’s face warm, a swarm of butterflies erupting in his stomach. His skin still tingled wherever they had made contact. More than that, it yearned for deeper, more intentional touch.

“Jed? Ya a’ight over there, partner?” Cody, another cowboy, hollered over to him with concern on his face “Ya got all red and have been staring at that wall for 5 minutes straight…”

“Huh? Oh yea I’m fine, thanks,” Jed rubbed a hand over his face, not realizing how long he had been just standing there.

“Ya wanna maybe sit down for a bit? Maybe the heats gettin’ to ya…” Cody gestured over to a shaded bench. By now, the other cowboys had stopped work to listen on to the conversation, nodding along with Cody in agreement.

“I’m fine, fellas, now get back to work.” Jed kneeled and began hammering a sleeper onto the rail, the others shrugged and began to return to their tasks.

“Jedediah?” a voice called, causing the cowboys to once again stop their work. Jed, however, was so deep in thought he didn’t hear his name being called.

The westerner next to him gave him a nudge, getting Jed’s attention. When he looked up, his eyes were met with those of the tan, muscular, roman.

Octavious’s face warmed at the sight of the cowboy, he had grease and dirt smeared onto his face, beads of sweat perched on his brows and forehead. Octavious had been in love with Jed since the moment they worked together to stop the old nightguards. His knees felt weak as he watched Jed take a glove off to wipe the sweat from his forehead.

“Howdy, partner,” Jed insides churned and he felt the corner of his mouth creep up. The lighting made Oct glow even more than normal. What Jed would give to explore the body of this man that made the world disappear. “What brings ya ‘round these parts?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to go for a ride around the museum? We haven’t done that in quite a while, I rather miss it…”

Jed could’ve sworn his heart stopped momentarily. It took all the strength he had to keep from running over to Octy, taking him in his arms and kissing hi— wow there cowboy- he stopped himself This is your bud your talking about, don’t be gettin all perverted

“Sorry, Oct, I got work to do here, rain check?” After those thoughts, he couldn’t trust himself alone with Octavious. What if he did something?

“Don’t sweat it, Jed, we got it covered, you’ve been working so hard lately you deserve a break.” Cody smiled at him and Oct. He knew since the beginning that these two had it bad for one another.

Goddamn Cody, sweetest guy but stupid. Jedediah cursed under his breath.

“No, I need to be here. Sorry Oct, it’ll have to wait,” it came off firmer than he meant it, but he really couldn’t risk doing something stupid until he figured out what was going on with him.

Octavious’s heart dropped. Jed never used to turn down their nightly car rides. He had felt Jed pulling away all week, and it hurt. His mind spiraled, did he say something? Do something? Tears welled in his eyes as he began thinking up worst case scenarios.

“Ok,” Oct choked out

Jed sensed pain in his voice and looked at Oct to see the matching expression. “Oct–”

Octavious had already turned and walked to the edge of the diorama, climbing down the rope.

“God fucking damnit!!” Jed shouted and threw his gloves into the dirt “Fuck!” He gave an exasperated sigh and stormed further into the diorama, leaving a wake of jaw-dropped cowboys.

Cody stared for a minute before snapping out of it, “Back to work! This railroad ain’t gonna fix itself!” he smacked the nearest miniature upside the head before returning to his job. The others quickly followed suit.

“You’ve really done it now, Jed,” Jed paced back and forth in the dirt as he scolded himself “All those dirty thoughts about your best friend? What in the sam hill were you thinking?” His accent exaggerated with rage. “Thinking ‘bout what his lips would feel like, his strong arms and thighs, what he would look like na— goddamnit!” He punched the closest thing to him, a rock, and instantly regretted it. “Shit! Fuck! Shit!” he shook his wrist before examining his bruised, bleeding knuckles. He had to do something about this. Now.

He arrived at the Egypt exhibit in the RC car, it felt weird without Oct. Ahk was scolding his guards

“I have told you two more times than there are grains of sand in the desert! Larry is my friend and you mustn't threaten him!”

“Uh Ahk– are ya busy?” Jed piped up. Ahk and the guards looked over. The guards stiffened before Ahk let them know Jed was another friend and they needed to stand down.

“What do you need, Jedediah?” He waved the guards away with a smile “Where’s Octavious?” he gave a confused look

“Well,’I need to talk,,,, and it’s kinda ‘bout him…” Jed stepped out of the car, rubbing the back of his neck. He let down his hair, not seeing the necessity of it anymore.

“Oh?” Ahk cocked his head curiously as he sat on the floor to get closer to Jed’s level.

“He’s my best friend, but ever since he held my hand in London, I’ve been feeling these weird feelings. My face gets all red when he’s around and my stomach gets a weird feelin’ in it, like i'm gonna puke… I mean I got the same sorta thing before but this is so much more intense… an’ I’ve been getting all these thoughts… mental images…” He rubbed his face, trying to dilute the current mental images plaguing him, “I used to think I hated physical touch. Any time I tried it with a woman, it just felt so wrong… but even though I know these thoughts and feelings are wrong… they just feel so right.” He hugged himself comfortingly.

“Jedediah, may I be completely honest?” Ahk looked at him and received a consensual nod “I think you may be homosexual, I also think you're also in love with Octavious…”

Jed was taken aback by this. “I–” he began to defend “I–” he thought about it, letting the words sink in and find their meaning, resonating in his mind.

“I… think I am…” he gave a defeated sigh “in love with Octavious…”

Ahk gave a smile “ I’m very proud of you, Jedediah. That is amazing.”

“Thanks, Ahk, ‘preciate it.” a smile formed as he recognized the trueness of the words “I’m in love with Oct. I am in LOVE with OCTAVIUS!” he gave a texas hell yea and jumped back into the car “ Thanks again, pardner,” He exchanged a wave with Ahk before speeding off.

Octavius laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling. Was he really losing his best friend? The man he was in love with? He sighed and said a prayer to Venus under his breath.

Almost immediately, there was a pounding at the door, “Octy?” a western voice called from the other side.

Octavius sat up. He blinked at the door. He knew by the voice it was Jedediah. Either Venus had answered his prayer or some other god was messing with him. “Uhm… Come in?”

Jed came bursting through the door but froze almost immediately, sudden doubt running through his head. Oct was frozen too, terrified of the next words to come out of Jed’s mouth. They stayed staring for a minute.

Come on, Jed, ya can’t let doubt win ya over now… did ya doubt when you had to cross the Mississippi River? Exactly. Gut up and tell ‘im

“I…” His voice trailed off… What if Oct didn’t feel the same? What if he ruined everything? Oct looked so tense, did he do that?

“I–”

“I’m sorry, Jedediah, I must’ve done something to make you not want to be my friend anymore. Whatever it is, I swear I will make it my mission to make it up to you–”

This caught Jed off guard, especially when he saw tears in Oct’s eyes “What? Not want to be your friend?? NO! God, no!” He moved closer, tears forming in his own eyes, he never wanted to cause Oct this much pain.

“You’ve been pulling back lately… it’s like you don’t want to be around me anymore,

Jed sat next to Octavius, pulling his hat over his eyes with a sigh, “it ain’t that, not at all. The complete opposite, really… I’m so happy ‘round ya. More happy than with anyone else. I thought it was ‘cause you’re my best friend, but when ya held my hand in London and when ya hugged me…” his voice trailed off and he caught a glimpse of Octavius, staring at him, hanging on to his every word.

“Octy… I’m a homosexual… and I’m in love with ya…” next thing he knew, there were arms flung around him. Octavius’s arms. The butterflies became fast and vicious in his stomach

Octavius couldn’t believe the words that just came out of his cowboy’s mouth–

“Thank you, Venus,” Octavius whispered as he wrapped his arms around Jed’s body.

“What was that?” Jed gave an awkward chuckle, unsure if this hug meant ‘I support you’ or ‘I feel the same’

“Nothing. You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to hear you say that. I’m in love with you, as well” Octavius smiled, finally being able to tell Jed his feelings.

Jed’s face lit up as he returned the hug, allowing himself to bury his face into the crook of the roman’s neck, he didn’t know how much he needed this…

Octavius blushed a deep crimson “Does this make us…” he didn’t even have time to finish the sentence before Jed nodded into his neck.

Jed moved his head so he could speak clearly “would it be ok if I kissed ya?”

Octavius almost died at that. He couldn’t believe this was real. He nodded.

Soon his lips were met with Jed’s. He was kissing Jedediah Smith. Jedediah Smith, his boyfriend. After they parted, they stayed in each other's arms for the rest of the night.

A/N: am i a slut for some good fluff? yes. do i need it after today? yes. I loved writing this fic. it’s not the best but i still love it!! hope you enjoyed :))

[jeannereames]

Hello, Dr. Reames!

I was thinking and meditating a lot about Hephaistion these last days, and I also thought about the Hephaistion you wrote in your duology (which I love very much); I came to the conclusion of something and it is something Hephaistion would say/sing if he had heard this, quote:

"Yeah, my boyfriend's pretty cool But he's not as cool as me"

it is a verse from the song 'Brooklyn baby' by Lana del Rey, it fits perfectly with Alexander and Hephaistion! Yes, it's true that Alejandro is someone extraordinary and cool, but Hefestión is more so.

[Spoiler of the novel ⚠️: the fact that Hephaistion is so beautiful, so pretty in the novel makes many people look at him; but we know that Hephaistion is not only a pretty face. The point of it all is that he ranked among the best warriors or has a rather prudent and mature personality, it gives him an appealing air: Hephaistion is not only beauty, but also brains].

What are your thoughts on this? And thanks <3

I had to go and listen to the song. It’s got a very Beat Poet vibe, which, given the lyrics, makes sense. Ha. (Even before I read the lyrics, I got that feel, so she succeeded in her aim.)

The “air of cool” is something Hephaistion is trying to project—(to use modern examples) a little Fonzie, a little (more dangerous) Marlon Brando (below: Marlon Brando from "A Streetcar Named Desire").

Ironically, he doesn’t see himself that way. He’s playing a part. He wants to be cool like Agathon.

Further irony: that wasn’t Agathon’s sort of cool; he was the extroverted jokester who’d never met a stranger, his devil-may-care of a happy, friendly sort. Hephaistion can’t begin to approach Agathon’s personality, so he tries to project whatever he can manage. The devil-may-care turns into “I don’t give a fuck what you think of me.” He turns his quietness/insecurity into arrogance.*

In his own mind, Hephaistion is an outsider who feels acutely different—not cool at all. His way of trying to mitigate being the outsider is to voluntarily situate himself as a loner. “I know you won’t like me, so I’ll reject you first.” Alexandros, of course, picks up on that pretty quickly, although he doesn’t yet know the piece about Agathon.

The real Hephaistion is (predictably) different from his projections, and not only because he’s trying to be Agathon (and doing it badly). The “I don’t care about any of you” routine is immediately punctured by sympathy/empathy for Alexandros. That’s the real Hephaistion. If Alexandros has an instant crush on Hephaistion, Hephaistion doesn’t have one on him (he’s a kid still). He just sees a little brother in need of a big brother.

So, I don’t think Hephaistion would consider himself cooler than Alexandros, as Alexandros is much closer to Agathon, personality-wise, who Hephaistion idolized. And that is, initially, some of the reason for Hephaistion’s affection. He wants to protect the kid who’s like the brother who loved and protected him. Hephaistion is both a little in awe of Alexandros (as he was of Agathon), but also feels sorry for how he had to grow up and wants to shelter him.

As Hephaistion ages, more of his real self does (and will) emerge. He feels more centered, in part thanks to Alexandros. He’ll always have that broody, angsty edge—that is part of him, because he’s inclined to overanalyze and fail to get out of his own head—but he’s less devil-may-care and “too cool for school.”

————————

* To be fair, Hephaistion does have an arrogant (and sarcastic) bone. He’s incredibly intelligent, and has a hard time taking seriously, much less submitting to anybody he can outthink—which is most people. Alexandros recognizes that, too.

[jdyyshit]

a man stood in his small, cramped studio apartment right at the very edge of brooklyn

it’s quiet is all his mind musters

the roar of traffic, rumble of engines and the odd yell of a pedestrian or driver is all still very much prevalent. the laughs of teenagers rushing along the sidewalks with their friends, the car alarms blaring.

he tunes it out and focuses his attention back onto folding his shirt. this one old and the colour faded, the threads hanging. he’d outgrown it. he stares down, before shoving it into the duffel.

the creak of the floorboard turns his head. his girlfriend stands there, her eyes puffy and lip bloodied from her insistent chewing. she wears his university sweatshirt, having borrowed (stolen) it long ago. he lets her have it.

because when the bank accounts drained and the cupboards are bare, what does he have left to give?

his love?

except he’s already given all he can. he loves her like she’s his last breath of oxygen before death. the first breath of air after drowning. the virus and the cure. the poison and the antidote.

his brother would forever be more poetic she is my doing and my undoing. his beginning and his end.

she was everything.

so when she cries it cracks his heart.

she stands in the doorway, her arms wrapping around her chest, looking at him through misty lenses.

they’ve had this conversation before.

the fears, the tears. everything.

they have no other option, there’s nothing.

“we have to go, baby.”

her breath hitched “i know.”

“i’m sorry.”

“you’re not acting like it.”

he sighs, putting his shirts down. he grasps her wrist and pulls her gently onto the mattress on the floor. she curls slightly, her scraped knees drawn into her chest.

“remember our promise?” he murmured.

she hums, burrowing into his chest, tucking her head under his chin.

they fit like puzzle pieces.

“a big house with a big yard and surrounded with field.”

she nods.

“a garden with your favourite flowers. chickens, so we don’t buy eggs. maybe a cow or two. a wrap around porch to sit and watch the sunset.”

“a big fireplace that we drink hot chocolate by in the winter.” she says.

“with marshmallows?”

“with marshmallows.”

“a library” he continues “with all the books you can read.”

“a letterbox with our names on it.”

she leans into him and he breathes her in. lavender.

even if he was blind he could probably recognise her by that smell alone.

he’d feel for the soft skin of her cheek, the wispy curls of her hair, the rasp in her voice when she woke up.

“you forgot something.” her voice is low, almost drowned over by the noises of the city.

“what?”

“the pattering of little feet.” she adds

“huh?” his eyebrows knit together “like a dog?

“mhm. something like that.” she replies, and he feels something in her voice that’s like she’s revealing something hidden. a treasury of secrets almost. without another thought, she takes his arm and pulls it around her stomach.

oh.

something flutters in his chest. something unusual.

dangerous.

hope.

he blinks, twice. then looks at her, her angelic features even more gorgeous in the light of dusk. he lifts her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckle.

“one day” his voice cracks “i’m going to get you that house. those flowers. those books. i’m going to take care of you and we’ll never have to worry about food or money.”

i swear.

he leaves that unsaid, but he’s never meant anything more.

the sun’s lowering now and they turn to watch it.

all he can picture is her brown doe eyes and his chubby bright cheeks. he pictures tying shoe laces and sports practice and tiny shoes by the door of house he’s going to build her.

they watch the sun shift over it’s horizon. setting over the city, once the city of their dreams.

now all they have is their dusty apartment, their luggage, a little secret in their hearts and two plane tickets with their names on it.

and for today, that’s enough.

[leaahhh]

here are some of the songs that soundtracked my summer

maps by the yeah yeah yeahs because i have a secret theory that you must pay attention to the songs that play in the background of a first date because they might be premonitions. it was one of the first that came on the day we met. you were quieter then and everyone knew your name. i overslept far past my welcome that first night and maybe that should have been more telling than the song. maybe i shouldn’t have given myself over so quickly. maybe i should’ve listened to tyler. maybe maybe maybe a lot of things. still, i laughed the whole way home. my kind's your kind, i'll stay the same.

acolyte by slaughter beach, dog because it is one of the only unabashed love songs i can listen to several times in a row without recoiling. it is the best song to wash the dishes to, to walk into the sunset with, to believe in kinder things because of. 

group four by massive attack because the man i was seeing at the time played it once at the bar he worked at. i visited several nights a week, it became part of my routine: something to rush around for, a soft place to land. i was mesmerized from the jump, it was all i could fixate on for its full eight minute runtime — the song and also him, flitting back and forth in the dim red light. (i played it for S a few days later, saying it was the best thing i’d ever heard — he didn’t like it, said it was scary.) i remember going into the bathroom and stabilizing myself in the mirror prematurely thinking that i’d miss coming here when it all ended. each time i was met with eyes a little more vacant. a self-fulfilling prophecy. (i’m at a different bar alone now writing this. your coworker spotted me, came over, and reminded me that you’re working there tonight. i shook my head and he said “oops” three times.)

lost angel nights by james blake and alphabet city by the national because they say the quiet part loud. they made me feel justified in my self-abandonment and my masterful act of pretending to be okay with distance and mistreatment. “away from me is just fine.” “if anybody asks, i’ll say you’re coming back.” “i’ll still be here when you come back from space.” it’s not true. it shouldn’t be. but love is this way sometimes. 

montana by youth lagoon because J brought it up around 3am at a bar in bushwick and before then i hadn’t thought of it in many, many years. she joked that i should play it next to your ear while you were asleep that night because it might rewire your brain. i laughed hard then but later it made me want to cry. a couple months after, her and i sat on a couch backstage with T before he played a sold out show in brooklyn. i told him i think i might’ve met you just so i could meet her. i do believe it. 

this house by japanese breakfast because a friend posted it on her instagram story right after going through a bad breakup and i listened to it eating dinner alone at the neighborhood fast casual korean restaurant staring out the open front door while hot air hit my face and it felt like i was hearing music for the first time. what if one day i don’t know you? what if one day you leave? i could sense it was coming but i came over for a kiss despite it all. i really learned about liquid courage with you and i probably never needed to befriend it so closely. when we were together, my head was always spinning; my nose always stung. 

very overdue goodbye by runo plum because my friends all know i prefer dragged out, tortuous storylines over clean-cut endings and rightfully shake their heads. i’ve never gotten over a thing in my life, i tell david in a frankly unhinged voice message that closes with me laughing pathetically, squeezing in at the end that i hope the baby is healthy. it is the last friday night of summer. he says that 26 is the new 18, that i am the one making bad decisions, *i* am not the bad decision. he tells me to stand up for myself. it takes me several weeks but i listen. you made being alone feel so clean. i see you more as a pile-up of my own grief. 

to me it was by samia because the guitar gives me goosebumps all over. eliza and i have used the format “everything with ____ is totally fine/don’t freak out, it’s gonna be alright” back and forth all month to punctuate every nervous interaction. we ended up being wrong a lot of the time, there was absolutely reason to freak out. samia was right though; maybe i didn’t need tequila for that. someday i think i’ll look back and remember this as a good time. right now it just hurts. 

blue flower by mazzy star because it reminds me of my favorite line in that other song that makes me think about that other guy: i had a fever when i met you; now you make me cool. you were a superstar in your own private movie and i wanted just a minor part. ang is the first person to call it by its name: cruelty. i sweltered and seethed while you slipped away. 

street rat by blondshell because i fell back into my old habits as quickly as i’d tried to kick them as soon as you entered the scene. if a doctor put her hands over my liver she would tell me my resentment’s getting…bigger. i felt a lump, hard and unforgiving, growing there. my back tooth turned brown and started rotting the day you disappeared. Z yelped at me from across the street when he saw me and said i’m withering in front of his eyes. it’s a race to see who dies first and you’ve got five years on me. (as i’m typing this, the bar has begun playing sepsis by blondshell. it feels almost evil. it really should’ve taken a whole lot less to turn me off.) 

split up by boyish because i could have said all of this word-for-word in that text message. i kept it short for both of our dignities. 

aspirin - slight return by tropical fuck storm because christian responded with just the link to that after i ranted for 5 minutes straight about my rapid descent into madness. it was a perfect response. i’m a harrowing rest stop for the men i date. disarming enough to trip them up. not enough to make them stay. 

moon song by phoebe bridgers because after three years of knowing it so well, i heard it entirely differently one night and it nearly rendered me immobile. you asked to walk me home but i had to carry you. you pushed me in and now my feet can’t touch the bottom of you. i would have stuck around, by the way. like a dog with a bird at your door.

[because-she-goes]

aphrodite’s rage

warnings: swearing, nora being angry, drugs (weed), breakup. Enjoy!

author’s note: meet nora! can’t wait for everyone to see more of her :) Also, sorry about the song change, just thought this fit nora and matty’s story and plus george produced it!

“Nora, don’t be ridiculous! We’re good, we’re us. I still love you.”

“But thats the thing Derek, I don’t. You don’t value me, you don’t even let me talk about my job for gods sake! All we do is sit around and talk about you, your needs, your wants. Well, what about what I want hmm? Has that even crossed your mind for a second in our relationship? Have you ever for even a minute not thought about you?” Nora’s voice echoes around the apartment, voice as sweet as ambrosia, but tongue sharp enough to wound the devil. It has been exactly 19 days since she came home from Vegas, from Matty.

Oh Matty. The only person to make her feel seen, heard and understood. The only person to make her feel like a human again. The only person to actually love her.

“This is about him, isn’t it? That guy you met on your trip?” Derek dares, Matty’s name alone enough to strike fear in his veins. Derek doesn’t dare say it.

“So, what the fuck if it is, Derek? So what if I felt special for once? So, what if it somebody made me feel good enough for once? Hmmm answer me when I talk to you!” She spits back at him. A wildfire in her eyes. “Derek, I need you to get this through your thick, dull skull. I don’t love you. I haven’t for awhile.” She thunders.

He stands and looks at her, not a thought behind his eyes. Just a big, dumb idiot. Why did she even fall for this oaf, she thinks. He couldn’t be more opposite than Matty. Matty, she sighs again. Sweet, caring, spontaneous, funny, smart, interesting, fashionable and a menace with the smile of a saint. Nora shivers at the memory of him in that suit the night in vegas, goosebumps flood her skin.

“Matty… if you can even stomach his name… is the greatest person who has ever come into my life, you dick!” Continuing to reign hellfire on her now bumbling boyfriend.

“Oh please, Nora get real! He (Derek still refusing to say his name) just met you like two weeks ago and I have known you since you were 20.” He tries to reason with her, seeing her slip away.

“Hey dipshit, people change! If you think I am still the same young, naive, stoned-out-of-her-mind girl from all those years ago then you are more hopeless than I thought.” Her words like venom. “Derek, may these be the last words I ever have to say to you: we are over.” The final words getting lodged in his psyche. Haunting him.

And with that, she grabs her stuff and walks out of the apartment head held high. She’ll have movers come get her stuff tomorrow and get it to her apartment in Brooklyn.

Stepping out, she inhales the new sense of freedom that surrounds her. Taking out the celebratory joint she kept hidden in her tote bag, she lights up and makes her way towards Walt Whitman park. Puffing on the herb as she struts down the street, she feels reborn. A new, fresh woman. One totally disconnected from her old life, Derek being the final string to it. Derek being the only thing tugging her back in life, towards childish things. He never did understand her now thinking about it. He never got her desire for a career, always telling her she had him to fall back on and not seeing any issue with her being totally dependent on him. He never got her taste in music or her new friends, always suggesting they hang out with people from high school - people who may as well have been taking bets on her downfall and selling tickets to her demise. Her only thought regarding those people, and now Derek was fuck ‘em.

Joint now halfway gone and Nora’s head feeling light and hazy, she gets to the park. Deciding to sit on an empty patch of the lawn and finish her celebration. Digging in her tote bag, finding her phone. Going through her texts she finds one from Matty from two days ago when he got back to the UK. Checking the time, its 7pm in London.

One ring, then two.

“Hey Nor, whats up?” He asks, voice perfectly husky. She relaxes and melts at the pet name.

“Guess who is a free woman, Handsome?” His heart stops. Smile erupting across his face.

“No way, gorgeous. You finally did it?”

“Just got finished, think he is still shell shocked. Now celebrating.”

“As you should. He seemed like a fucking twat anyways.” He remarks.

“I think you’d like to know he couldn’t even say your name. Couldn’t even stomach me saying it.” She tells him, he smirks on the other end of the phone.

“Can’t believe you even liked him, honey. Sounds like a total wanker.”

“Trust me, he is. Anyways, I don’t have much tying to me to New York now and I’m sure I can find a place in London to work out of. Was gonna take a flight there next week and shack up in a hotel-“

“Or, you could stay with me. Save the money plus you could wake and bake with me.” He offers, smiling at the idea of waking up with her every day, of playing house.

“You got yourself a deal, Healy. But, no funny business mister! I’m single, I wanna have fun for a bit.”

“Oh trust me darling, you haven’t known fun until you’ve been in London at night.” He reassures, mouth salivating over the thought of her in a club dress and running around with him at night. Fuck, he is a goner.

The next day, Nora books a one-way flight to London and starts shopping, trying to pick things she deems as being especially tantalizing, deciding she is gonna torture Matty for however long she is there. A mischievous giggle leaves her throat, oh this is gonna be fun.

— 1 week later —

The double decker plane touches down in Heathrow airport. It is late and Nora slept terribly on the flight. Texting Matty that she landed safely and giving him the arrival information, she stands up to grab her overhead bag. Her hoodie comforting her and baggy sweatpants pool at her ankles. She pulls her headphones around her neck as she walks in the direction of checked luggage and grabbing her suitcases. Next is customs, thanking the lord she didn’t pack any weed betting on Matty having a full stock at his house. The customs officer asks her if she’s staying for business or pleasure and she responds by pausing and then decidedly saying pleasure and adding that she got a visitor’s visa approved by the UK embassy in New York last week. He nods sternly and confirms that yes, she did. Stamping the US passport and sending her on her way to the pickup location.

In the crowd of families reuniting, soldiers rushing to their partners, siblings hugging and lovers kissing she spots a card.

“Thee Ms. Nora Downey.”

The man behind the sign looks positively drool worthy. First off, he has stubble that dances across his defined jaw accentuating his features. Secondly, he’s wearing an old Yankees hat low hiding his eyes from anyone who may recognize them and as a way to tease Nora, fully knowing she prefers the Mets. Third, he’s wearing a tight crisp white shirt letting his iconic tattoos creep out from the hems and sleeves hugging his defined biceps. Finally, she sees a pair of baby blue adidas track pants hang low from his waist with a pair of battered gazelles. If she could jump him, she would. She composes herself, trying to get her voice to be even when she greets him.

From his view, she could not look any cuter. Hoodie tied at the neck, brunette hair creeping out from underneath and black headphones cover her neck. He makes a note to himself to litter it with hickeys at some point during her trip. Her grey sweatpants adorably too long for her frame and black sambas barely visible. She softly smiles at him as the escalator descends, her nerves increasing at he grows closer. He reciprocates.

Finally being within arms reach of her, he pulls her to his chest. Wrapping his arms around her and breathing in her perfume - coffee and vanilla with a little smoke - he hums. Content to have his favorite girl in his town and getting to be her personal tour guide for however long he is lucky enough to have her. He already scheduled for them to go on a guided tour of the Tate Modern tomorrow night and grab some dinner. The guys were gonna meet her in a couple days - Adam being the most eager since he was a fan of her work.

Her head is tucked into his shoulder, smiling ear to ear as she feels his shoulder relax under her arms. She breathes calmly - smelling the lavender and mint cologne she has come to love. She marvels at the fact that she was ready to go to bed just 45 minutes ago when she landed, but now feeling wide awake in his presence.

“Hi, honey. Missed you, can’t wait to show you just how…fun… I can be.” He smirks, ready to be just the most enchanting version of himself.

“Oh, you’re on, Handsome. I was born to be…fun.” She teases, mirroring his smirk.

She feels him shudder. Oh she’s got this in the bag.