#paul in his fur coat

[kinsfaun]

[silversword7000]

I love this clip so much it’s so amazing it gives me life🥰🥰🥰🥰❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️💖💖💖💖✨✨✨✨

[tavolgisvist]

On the train ride back to New York, while the camera team from Granada shoots film for their documentary, Ringo begins to slither around and under seats like an ape.

Then John and George trade coats for no reason.

video from reflectismo

Next, Ringo, with a dozen cameras around his neck pushes through the crowd, shouting, ‘Excuse me! Life magazine! Exclusive! I am a camera!’

Then George climbs up into the baggage rack above the seat and plays dead.

gif by deadpoets

Then Ringo scuttles through the car wearing a blond fur coat and a lady’s white fur hat.

Then George, wearing the porter’s hat and white coat, comes in with a tray of empty coke tins.

At the other end of the car Paul is flamboyantly taking pictures out of the window and shouting, ‘God, how artistic! Railway lines!’

Photo by Paul (from 1964. Eyes of the Storm)

The camera keeps filming; Life, Newsweek, and the Saturday Evening Post keep taking notes, and John occasionally looks up and mutters, ‘Funny, very funny.’

(Love Me Do: The Beatles Progress by Michael Braun)

[tac-the-unseen]

The Lost Boys x Werewolf Reader

•They could all smell you before you were even within sight of each other.

•They have mixed feelings about having a big ol’ dog around

•On one hand, You are a biological rival. Both vampires and werewolves are extremely territorial, and can almost never overlap with each other.

•On the other hand, Big ol’ fluffy dog :)

•Paul is 10,000% the type of guy to drop down on off four to play with you well in wolf form

•while out on a midnight stroll in the woods they casually look at you and say ‘Do the thing.’ which means ‘howl as loud as you possibly can’

•They will absolutely howl with you!

•You lay in the sun for a while then go back to the shade so they can still feel the sun (and you get pets)

•When you were first starting the relationship with David, Dwayne, Paul, and Marko, You found a big open field and ran as fast and hard as you could in circles until you physically couldn't take it anymore. You would collapsed onto the grass and sleep for the rest of the day, just so by the time you woke up you can spend the entire night fully awake with them

•Werewolves can get very sore after transformation ( especially nearing/during a full moon) so they keep a small tube of Vicks in their pockets

•They also have on more than one occasion used their cold hands to soothe your aching muscles

•When the full moon starts to approach you get extremely hungry, more reckless, senses get heightened, and your need to hunt gets stronger.

•If you let them, the boys would love to go hunting with you. It doesn't have to be humans, anything you feel you need to hunt down, they're willing to help!

•They're your pack and you're their coven

•While in your wolf form you accidentally entered the boardwalk not realizing you were in your wolf form. When they looked at you like you had 5 heads you remembered what you look like. They pretended you were their dog so no one was suspicious

•While Werewolf strength is nothing like Vampire strength, it's not something they want to mess with. They've seen you act like a real wild animal and it terrified them.

•Paul refused to come down from the ceiling for a few hours.

•Marko loves to paint and draw you in your wolf form

•Marko has crocheted you a doggie sweater (You assured them you had enough fur to keep you warm, He made a sweater anyway)

•Paul loves cuddling you. You guys have a joke going, Paul is a lizard and you are his heat lamp.

•Dwayne likes to write down Werewolf facts, instincts, Rituals, and helpful tips. It’s how he shows he's paying attention and loves you.

•David once asked you if he could brush out your fur and now he's the one that grooms you. He's even gone the extra mile to thoroughly get the clumps of dead fur out of your thick coat.

•David likes putting his jacket on you so it smells like you. (This doesn't just apply to ‘werewolf’ you. This is just a regular headcanon of mine lmao)

•They given you nicknames like Wolfie, Howler, Bitch, Timber, and wildflower

•But those are just counters to all the vampire related nicknames you call them

•At one point you got really upset and Paul said “So it's one of those dog-days?” If you weren't so pissed you would have laughed. You walked out into the sun instead.

•They All love your fluffy ears!

[moonsdrs]

RANKING MY CONTROVERSIAL MOMENTS IN MY 60S FAME DR

all my controversies from most to least favorite. most of these are core memories/downloads.

✶ — LAP DANCE STAGE. and not just any lap dance stage. oh no. it was basically beyoncé's dance for you on a woman. it's not because it was with a woman that it was controversial but because of the raunchiness of it all.

✶ — LACK OF CLOTHES. kinda goes hand in hand with the first. i still don't know why this one was really controversial seeing as i literally did a 60s ver of victoria's secret fashion show and i wore a lingerie during my performance?? and i wore a lingerie-esque outfit with a fur coat ONCE! i just think the tabloids hate a bitch like me. pictured down below for reference.

✶ — FBI VS HENDRIX. okay, basically, the fbi thinks i'm a walking conspiracy. no woman is this gorgeous, this talented! she's an alien! a robot! an industry plant! and she's here to destroy the united states. girl..what? if anything i MAKE the country money and drive traction from other countries TO the states? but, okay!

✶ — CELEBRITY CRUSHES. this one still makes me giggle. how are you mad at ME because your fav said i was gorgeous and they wanted to date me? (side eyes paul and john girls)

✶ — STRONG OPINIONS. i'm an opinionated girl who was extremely reserved before i got with michael but as we got closer and began dating i definitely picked up his stubbornness. i will say what i wanna say and speak my mind about the industry, society, etc. again, the only ones who have a problem really is the government. (what's up with me and the government?)

note. before anyone says anything, i have a script where i scripted myself to be pretty much safe. no matter what is said about me, my career and personal are never effected greatly or at all. i just like being silly and HATE being overtly perfect(?) and like a bit of relatively unharmful drama.

[dedeinthewild]

paul aron x reader, no labels

-“You’re snoring. Like, offensively.”

summary : she has two golden balls of mischief now, and she's happier than ever

They say that, for the right person, you’re capable of pushing yourself to the edge of the world and doing things you wouldn’t even consider otherwise.

And that day, Paul couldn’t help but feel like the living embodiment of that timeless cliché, gripping the leather of his steering wheel as he drove down a countryside road in early May—when the sun had started to show itself, but sweaters were still necessary.

He’d left the city behind: the skyscrapers, the modern buildings, trading them for roads that led to open fields full of wildflowers, cared for by farmers who had known each other for generations, with the occasional horse wandering freely through the tall grass, its mane swaying in the wind.

He reminded himself to bring her there, once she had time. He knew she’d love spending the day with the animals.

A random playlist hummed softly through the car speakers while he drove on autopilot, shifting gears with the paddles, missing his favorite passenger—the one who never stayed quiet for more than five minutes and somehow made simple afternoons the most important thing in his world.

There was a disarming calm around the farmhouse he’d driven to—calling in a favor from an old friend of his sister’s, an opportunity Paul had jumped on because it felt perfect.

He walked back to the car with something warm and squirmy in his arms: a little sausage-shaped pup with fluffy blond fur and a tiny pink nose that almost convinced Paul to adopt every single puppy the man had shown him in the barn, right alongside the mares.

“You have no idea how important you’re about to become,” the Estonian murmured, stroking the puppy’s little head as it wriggled in his hands and let out the sweetest sneeze, making Paul chuckle while searching for his car keys in his hoodie pocket.

“She’s going to lose it. I mean actually lose it.” He smiled, placing the puppy on the blanket the old farmer had given him, securing it in the passenger seat so it wouldn’t roll out of its makeshift bundle if he had to brake.

A horse neighed in the distance as he got behind the wheel, and for a second, Paul allowed himself to imagine a future—a farmhouse like this, a beautiful car in the garage, and her, coming home late just to smell the cake he baked before catching a flight around the world.

The car had barely five hundred kilometers on it, still carrying that unmistakable new car smell.

“Don’t you dare throw up in here,” he mock-scolded, one hand on the top of the wheel, the other resting on his thigh, glancing sideways at the puppy every so often. “I just got this car.”

The little golden retriever rested its head on the center console with a soft whine, brown eyes locking with Paul’s.

“…Okay, fine. I’d forgive you,” he grinned, turning onto a narrow road that would take him home through orchards and open fields, chatting to the puppy like he’d known him forever, already certain they’d be good friends.

“You have no idea what kind of life you’re walking into,” he told the pup, waiting for her to get home—Anna had taken her to some sort of market downtown. “She’s going to spoil you rotten. And talk to you like you’re a person. And you’re going to go on more walks than you’ll know what to do with.”

Paul had his feet propped up on the coffee table in the apartment his sister shared with her. The puppy had nestled against his chest, breathing in his scent, comforted by his steady rhythm, while Paul gently stroked his tiny body.

The little thing let out soft, pleased sounds—like it was smiling.

“She’s been talking about getting a dog for months. ‘Just waiting for the right time,’ she says. Meanwhile, she’s got an entire Pinterest board full of dog names and knows exactly which harnesses look best on golden coats.”

He spoke about her like that—his voice soaked in love and affection, using a tone usually reserved for babies, whispering to the puppy that was quickly becoming part of his life just as much as hers.

“God, she’s going to love you,” he said again, watching the pup chew on one of the bracelet strings she’d once tied around his wrist.

It wasn’t just a dog.

It was something she’d wanted—something he knew would make her feel good, really good. The kind of warmth you only feel when you do something for the person who matters more than anything.

And then, the girls came back—finding him standing at the door just as they were putting their shopping bags down.

She was wearing a blue hoodie she’d stolen from him the previous spring and forgotten to give back, her hair tied at the nape of her neck, a few loose strands falling into her eyes, surprised to see him there unannounced.

He’d used the spare keys Anna always forgot in Tallinn and decided to bake cookies while figuring out how to earn the puppy’s trust, who, as soon as they got home, had shown his mischievous side.

“Hey,” he greeted, trying—and failing—to hide the wide smile on his face.

“Paul?” she blinked in disbelief. She hadn’t seen him in months—his schedule kept him busy, and school hadn’t exactly been kind to her either. She hadn’t been able to find the time to hop on a train or plane to visit him wherever he was.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, noticing his slippers and how settled he looked. “I thought you weren’t coming until next week.”

She was trying not to smile too hard.

“I was in the area,” he shrugged. “Had something to drop off.”

Anna shook her head and disappeared into her room with one of the shopping bags, leaving the two of them alone, hoping her brother had finally made the move she’d been waiting for.

“Every time you say that, it’s something ridiculous.”

“Define ridiculous,” Paul teased, raising an eyebrow.

“So? What are you hiding?”

She crossed her arms over the hoodie, bracelets clinking softly on her wrist—half of them matching the ones on his.

She was trying so hard not to launch herself at him and hold on like he might vanish again for months.

“Nothing.”

“You are literally hiding something. You have ‘guilty puppy smuggler’ energy.”

Paul bit his cheek at her word choice. Meanwhile, Anna leaned against the wall, stealing one of his cookies, watching everything unfold without being noticed.

And then… something stirred inside his hoodie.

A tiny head peeked out from the neckline. Two sleepy eyes and fuzzy ears twitching gently.

She gasped.

“No. No, no, no, Paul.”

He felt his heart swell at the look on her face—arms falling to her sides, her bottom lip caught between her teeth to keep from tearing up.

“Wanna say hi?” Paul pulled the puppy out of the hoodie, holding him up.

“Oh my God,” she whispered. “Is that…?”

He nodded.

“Is that the puppy? The puppy?”

“Yup.”

“In your hoodie.”

“Yup.”

He placed the little thing into her hands and pulled her into a side hug, his fingers running through her hair while her heart hammered in her chest and her hands cradled the fluffball against her.

“You’re serious?” she whispered. “He’s for me?”

She looked up, locking eyes with Paul—those blue eyes she loved so much. The ones that always made her feel like nothing could hurt her and all she needed was a car ride with him and the road ahead.

“I didn’t think you were actually listening,” she laughed quietly, blinking fast to keep the tears in.

“I always listen,” he said softly. “Especially when it’s you.”

And in her eyes, Paul saw something clear, raw, and full of love—so obvious it made his chest ache.

Anna, melting at the doorway, watched the whole scene unfold, overwhelmed by her brother’s gesture and the unspoken bond between the two.

“I might start crying,” she whispered, just as the puppy settled into the little bed Paul had bought, surrounded by new toys and bowls he’d picked out just for her.

“That’s okay,” he murmured, pulling her into a full hug, her arms wrapping tight around his torso, his hand cradling the back of her head, keeping her close.

They didn’t move.

Not when Anna stole another cookie.

Not when the puppy barked softly.

Because in that moment, the way they fit together felt like the most natural thing in the world.

That night, Anna was out of the apartment—off celebrating a friend’s birthday—so the three of them (two humans and one tiny golden ball of mischief) had the entire place to themselves.

They’d ordered a pizza from the restaurant downstairs, and Paul had gone to pick it up in his slippers, wearing the kind of smile that only comes when you feel so at ease, nothing in the world can touch you.

Then, after laying a blanket down on the parquet floor, they sat cross-legged and started trying out names the puppy might actually respond to—just in case it already had a favorite and they didn’t want to disrupt it.

“Waffles,” she offered. “Because her ears are soft and sweet.”

“Aron Junior,” Paul countered. “For legacy.”

She laughed and threw a fry at him, watching the little pup weave between Paul’s legs, hinting she was getting sleepy.

After finishing the pizza and watching the tiny belly rise and fall in a slow, rhythmic motion, they headed to the bedroom, flopping down onto the same bed.

The girls lived in a very quiet neighborhood, so the night felt still, peaceful—and sleep, when they were together, always felt even more restorative.

Paul had collapsed on the mattress, lying face down in a starfish sprawl, sunk deep into a sleep that had him dreaming about the kind of life he’d thought about all day. She, who tended to move around a lot in her sleep, had ended up draped across him, her stomach pressed to his back and her lips brushing against his jaw.

It was around 3 a.m. when she woke up, not quite realizing they were tangled together like that, startled instead by a loud sound breaking through the quiet.

“Paul,” she mumbled, half-asleep. “You’re snoring. Like, offensively.”

Paul tried to turn over, but something was stopping him—and once he realized what that something was, he figured it might be the best thing that had ever pinned him down.

“What?” he muttered, rubbing his face, pretty sure he had never snored in his life.

“That noise. It’s coming from you.”

“I don’t snore.”

“You do. It sounds like a bear trying to breathe through a straw.”

Paul shifted slightly so he could look her in the eyes, catching the soft scent of sleep and comfort her skin gave off—so warm.

But the sound persisted, echoing in the darkness of the room, cut only by the small nightlight they’d left on outside the door to keep an eye on the pup.

“…Okay,” she whispered. “That wasn’t you.”

He put his hands on her hips and gently moved her aside so he could get up and check, rubbing his eyes as she sat up in bed.

And that’s when they saw it.

The dog, lying belly-up inside one of the pilot’s slippers, clearly deep in a dream, tail flicking back and forth, head tilted to the side—emitting the stupidest snore imaginable.

“I was ready to smother you with a pillow,” she laughed as Paul flopped back onto the bed. She lay back down on top of him, wrapping her arms around his well-built torso.

“Guess I’m off the hook,” he murmured, voice raspy from being half-asleep.

“You’re lucky he’s cute.”

Her fingers absentmindedly played with the seam of his T-shirt as she chuckled sleepily and whispered:

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Paul said, pressing a small kiss to her arm where it rested against his.

“You think I’m cute?”

She didn’t move—head resting on one of his broad shoulders, lulled by the sound of his breathing in the quiet of the bedroom.

“I mean… you’re fine, I guess. For someone who steals all my clothes.”

They stayed like that for a while, both knowing, deep down, this was one of those moments where everything shifts—where something changes.

Where maybe, just maybe, it would start to have a name tonight.

Or tomorrow.

“Why’d you really bring him to me?” she asked.

Paul looked at her, adjusting so she rested fully on his chest without being uncomfortable.

The way their legs were tangled together, the way her long hair followed her with every movement, the way his old T-shirt covered her like a blanket—like safety.

He could’ve deflected. Made a joke. Teased her or simply stroked her hair.

But instead, he spoke the way someone does when they’re talking to the person they love.

“Because I wanted you to have something good. Something constant.”

She smiled, her face resting on his chest, wearing his shirt, after he’d come back to her—again.

“You’re good,” she murmured. “You’re constant.”

Paul closed his eyes as the puppy started snoring again, making them both chuckle softly, while that particular kind of silence—the kind that follows a confession—settled in between them.

And there was no need to explain.

Because the simple feeling of spending time with the one person you’d do anything for…

That’s the perfect definition of everything.

I'm just writing paul fluff about lazy and slow mornings, and I know you'll eventually get bored of it but I just need him.

[sugardollcurse]

𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒂 𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒕𝒂 𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒌

꒰ pairing ꒱ teddy boy! john lennon x femme fatale!reader

꒰ contains ꒱ violence, obsession, crime

꒰ summary ꒱ you weren’t supposed to be at the cavern club that night. but then again, john wasn’t supposed to fall in love with the girl who pistol-whipped him either.

You’re the kind of girl who smokes your lipstick off and forgets your name when you’ve had too much gin. You don’t smile for free. You keep a loaded pistol under the bed of a borrowed flat and cash in your stocking. You used to sing in a motel bar out in Birkenhead until the place mysteriously burned down—no one really asked why. You’ve lived a hundred lives. Every man who’s loved you either ran or disappeared.

You have one rule: don’t fall for the local boys. Especially the loud ones. Especially the pretty ones with big mouths and no fear.

But then there’s John.

He sees you before you see him. You’re at the back of the Cavern Club, sequins catching the sickly yellow light, drink in hand, half-listening to the set. And he’s staring. Can’t help himself. You’re danger in a dress.

After the show, you’re halfway to leaving when you feel someone behind you. The air shifts.

“Oi,” he says. "You nicked me soul or summat? 'Cause I’m not right since seein' you."

You turn. He’s cocky. Beautiful. Not in the safe way. In the kind of way that ruins things.

“You always this dramatic?” you ask, not even pretending to smile.

“Only when it matters,” he says, licking his teeth. “I’m John."

“I don’t care.”

He laughs. Like you’re the funniest thing that’s ever happened to him. Like you’re magic. He doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, just watches you with that crooked grin like he’s already decided he’s in love.

“Right,” he says, “but you will.”

He walks with you anyway. Like a puppy with a switchblade in its teeth.

“Where you headed then?”

“Anywhere you're not.”

“Well, guess I’ll just have to tag along till you change your mind.”

You roll your eyes. Keep walking. He keeps talking. Says stupid things. Says smart things. Keeps looking at your mouth like it's a hymn. When you reach the end of the alley behind the club, you turn. He’s still there.

“What do you want?”

“To know your name. Maybe your whole life story if I’m lucky.”

He’s annoying. He’s charming. He’s a boy who thinks he’s invincible.

So you reach into your bag. And pull it.

The gun.

Heavy. Black. Loaded.

And point it right at his pretty little face.

He freezes.

“Jesus fuckin' Christ,” he breathes, eyes wide. “What the hell—why d'you—bloody hell, where'd you get that?”

“America,” you say flatly. “Don’t worry. I’m not gonna shoot you. Unless you keep talking.”

He stares. Then—

“Are you real?” he says. “Or just summat I dreamt up in a fever?”

You step closer. Press the cold barrel to his forehead.

“When I hit you in the back of the head with a gun?” you murmur. “You’ll know it.”

And you walk away.

He stands there for a full minute before he laughs.

Loud. Echoing. Like he’s just been blessed.

He touches his forehead where the gun kissed him and whispers to himself:

“I’m gonna marry that girl.”

━━

It’s been three days since the alley.

John’s tried to find you again. Every night at the Cavern. Every dive bar in Liverpool. He’s half-mad with it. Telling anyone who’ll listen about the girl with a goddamn gun. George says he made her up. Paul doesn’t want to know. Ringo just laughs and hands him another smoke.

But John knows you’re real. And he’s obsessed. It’s in his bones now, something feral and glitter-drenched. He sees you in every flash of red neon. Every smear of lipstick on a pub glass. You’re haunting him, and you haven’t even tried.

So when he spots you on Bold Street—draped in a faux fur coat, drink in hand, eyes like razors under heavy lashes—he follows. No questions.

You’re walking fast. Too fast. There’s blood on your knee. Smudged mascara. A bottle clinking in your bag. You don’t even flinch when you realize he’s behind you.

“What,” you snap, lighting a cigarette, “do you want from me?”

John stares at you like he’s been starving for days.

“Everything.”

You laugh.

“You’re not serious.”

“I am,” he says, stepping closer. “I’m fuckin’ mental for you. Look at you. You're the most dangerous thing I've ever seen and I want to touch it.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Did you rehearse that in front of a mirror, pretty boy?”

“Only every night since you pulled a piece on me.”

You don’t smile. Instead, you take the gun out again. Same one. Same weight. Same unspoken threat.

“Still want everything?”

“Yeah,” he says without hesitation. “I want the whole fuckin' show. Blood, bullets, lipstick, all of it.”

That’s when you hit him.

Hard.

Metal meets bone. The dull thunk of your pistol slamming against the back of his thick skull. He stumbles forward with a grunt, drops to a knee.

“Jesus CHRIST,” he shouts, “what the f—bloody hell!”

He touches the back of his head. Blood. He laughs. Of course he does.

“Fuckin' hell,” he groans. “You weren’t bluffin'. That hurt like a bastard.”

You help him to his feet. He sways a little. His blood is on your hand. You can feel the way he looks at you—like you're something divine and unholy at the same time.

“You hit me in the head with a gun,” he says.

“And you’re still following me,” you reply.

“Yeah. That should worry you.”

“It doesn’t.”

That night, you end up in a pub on the docks. Sharing cigarettes. Sharing drinks. Sharing stories you don’t tell anyone else.

You tell him about your father. The river. The weight of a body when it stops moving. You tell him about the motels. The fires. The mirrors in the dressing rooms that crack right down the middle the night before. About the stages you almost didn’t walk off.

He doesn’t flinch. He just listens. Like you’re a song he’s memorizing.

John tells you he doesn’t care what you did. Or why. He likes you this way.

“You made me nice for a while,” you say, fingering the rim of your glass, “but my other side’s true.”

He leans in.

“Good. Be dark. Be mine.”

You stare at his stupid face. So confident. So smug. So sure he’s about to get kissed.

Instead, you slap him.

A sharp crack echoes off the pub wall, and his head snaps to the side. His eyes go wide.

“The fuck was that for?!” he sputters, laughing even as his cheek flushes red.

You just shrug, wicked grin blooming.

“You looked like you needed it.”

He’s grinning again. Infatuated. And maybe a little scared.

That’s your favorite kind of man.

━━

It’s a week later and he still hasn’t shut up about it.

"Y’know you’ve got a real mean fuckin’ slap," he mutters, standing half-naked in front of your cracked vanity mirror, tracing the faint red outline on his cheekbone like it’s a trophy. “Took me four days to stop lookin’ like I lost a bar fight.”

He smirks at you through the mirror like he’s proud of it. Like it’s a love mark.

You’re sprawled behind him on the bed, tangled in sheets and wrapped in the oversized shirt he wore the night you met. One leg is hooked over the other. A cigarette balanced perfectly between your lips. Smoke coils above your head like a halo gone wrong.

You don’t look at him. You just exhale and say, “You like it.”

John turns, lazy grin stretched wide. “Yeah. I do.”

He makes his way over and drops next to you like gravity wanted him there. Like the bed belongs to both of you now. He smells like your perfume. You’d sprayed it on him the night before, right on his neck. He hadn’t wiped it off.

His hand ghosts your thigh like it’s second nature.

“You gonna hit me again?” he asks, almost hopeful.

You smirk. “Not tonight.”

“That’s sweet of you.”

You ash your cigarette in the chipped glass ashtray and roll on top of him. A smooth, deliberate shift of weight. He stills beneath you, gaze locked to yours like you’re gravity now. Eyes wide. Mouth parted. You wonder if he’s going to say something stupid again, but he just breathes your name like it’s the only prayer he knows.

You drag your fingers down his jaw. Trace his bottom lip. Then lean in—not to kiss, but to whisper something that makes him shiver.

You take your time with him. Your hands on his face. Your lipstick on his neck. Your body stretched over his like a sin made of sequins and smoke. He kisses like he talks: fast, impulsive, all teeth and tongue, like he doesn’t want to waste time. But you slow him down. You make him feel it.

Eventually, he does. He softens. His hands shake on your hips, his lips go slack against yours. He exhales your name like it’s a secret and a promise.

“You’re not what I expected,” he murmurs, fingers curling around your wrist.

“You expected a girl who wouldn’t pistol-whip you in an alley?”

“I expected someone who’d leave after.”

You pause.

And then you stay.

Not just that night. But the next. And the next.

You start leaving things at his place without asking. Your comb. Your favorite lipstick. Your pistol, tucked under his bed. He pretends not to notice it, but sometimes you catch him glancing at the spot. You know he knows.

Sometimes you lie on the floor of his room while he writes. You read old books out loud, the kind with yellowed pages and broken spines, while he smokes and pretends not to be listening. Other nights, you crawl into his lap and trace shapes into the back of his hand while he leans back and lets you.

You let him see you.

The bruises. The scars. The way your hands shake sometimes when it rains. The chip in your polish, the glitter smeared under your eyes. The things you’ve done. The ones you can’t undo. He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t try to fix you. He just looks at you like you’re art that moves.

He brings you roses now. Lights your cigarettes. Asks you about your day like it matters.

John writes you into songs before he finishes them. Swears the lads don’t know, but Paul does. Paul always knows. You catch him smiling when John hums something soft under his breath with your name buried in it.

You let him fall asleep with your thigh between his. Let him press kisses into your wrist like they’ll keep you anchored. Let him trace the outline of your pistol in the dark and say nothing, but you can feel the question in his touch.

You curl into him. Let him breathe you in.

You were born bad.

But with him?

You’re still bad. Still dangerous.

You’re just his now.

[exhausted-think-bucket]

I am obsessed with Paul during the rooftop concert ('obsessed with Paul' should go on my gravestone).

He's so elegant (that suit is doing wonders for his physique). The way he plays with his whole body, all swaying hips, tapered waist, tapping foot, luscious dark hair blowing in the wind, trademark bass-face in full effect, and I haven't even mentioned the vocals, which are insane.

The others are also cutting fine figures with their fur coats and red rain jacket, but in terms of performing they're more...subdued? I mean, they look like they're having fun, but Paul is out there playing like his life is depending on it, which... I bet he felt like it did.

[prettypinkporkchop]

Random Paul type deal

Warnings: sexual a bit not much, language, I believe that's it

Fem reader!

Your feet crunch down on the leaves. The forest floor is making you calm down. Your boyfriend's voice is ringing through your ears.

"I'll never love you like I used to. It's your fault I've cheated."

You moving in with Tyler was a big mistake. All you have done was love him. You changed your whole life for him! You quit your old job to move all the way to Forks with him. Now, you work a job you don't even like. You still aren't so sure why he has been like this since the move.

The green is surrounding you. It's beautiful, and you begin to consider camping out here. You shake your head at the thought. A motel seems safer. You're not sure who comes out here at night. You begin to leave the forest, retracing your steps.

Something big falls behind you, making you turn. It's a woman. She has dark skin and piercing red eyes. Your heart is pounding. She laughs as a devilish grin appears. You are frozen in fear. Before you can even blink, she's in front of your face. You feel the wind hit you from her impossibly fast movement. Her beauty is there, but you can't help but focus on the red eyes that are screaming at you, telling you to run.

Her cold fingers reach to touch your face. "Wrong time to wander off." She mumbles. All of a sudden, she jumps back and looks to her left. She snarls and runs away. Now, you're confused and even more scared. Something scarier than her is chasing her.

Two gigantic wolves hit your view. Black and brown fur and load roaring fill up your senses. You turn your feet and run. As your feet move, you see a dark silver coated wolf standing a few feet away.

You stop dead in your tracks, praying this beast doesn't kill you. The wolf steps closer to you, very slowly. You can't run. This thing is way faster than you. Your heart is about to drop dead from fear. You see its eyes, and it stops moving. He whimpers and then runs away.

You finally get to your car and jump in. You start crying and cover your face. Your phone in the passenger seat starts blowing up. You know it's Tyler. This makes you cry even harder. You hear a tap at your window. You scream and look up. You're faced with a young man. He's tan, shirtless, and has a tattoo on his arm. He seems concerned. You shake your head and roll down the window. "Can I help you?" You ask and wipe your eyes. "I think you need help, ma'am. I can help you. What's wrong?" He asks. "Everything." You sigh. "Hey, move over. Let me drive you back home." He says. "I don't know you." You reply dryly. "No, you don't. I don't know you either. But, you're upset, and I'm concerned. You're in the middle of La Push. I've never seen you around." He puts his hands above your window and leans on it, looking down at you. "You're not gonna kill me, are you?" You ask. "Nope. Not capable of it." He seems honest to you. "You're buff. I believe you can snap me in half." You giggle. He laughs and then opens your door. "No ma'am. I won't." He helps you out. You notice how tall he is. You look up at him. Oh, he's gorgeous. His eyes won't leave yours. You feel safe. You feel a connection. "What's your name?" He asks. You see his eyes moving around your face. "Y/n." You whisper. You observe his face, too. You can't help but be starstruck. He notices and then smiles, stepping back a bit. "Paul. Paul Lahote." He walks over and opens the passenger door. You get inside, and he gets in the drivers side. "Tell me what's going on?" He asks. You groan and lean your head back. "Where do I even begin?" Your phone starts ringing. You grab your phone and pick it up. "What?"

"Where are you?"

"Mmm, not your business. I'm packing my stuff." You hang up. Paul leans back in the seat and grips the steering wheel. "I see." He sighs. "Tyler. I moved in with him. Big mistake." You look out the window. "Would you believe me if I told you I saw something?" You ask quietly. "Yes." He replies. You face him again, his eyes right on you. "I saw a girl with red eyes and then huge wolves. I don't know. I think I'm going crazy." You laugh and run your hand through your hair. He shakes his head. "No, you're not crazy. I believe you. Where do you need to go?" He asks, reversing your car. "Take me to my place. I'm thankful you're with me. Be my gaurd dog?" You look at him. He smirks and keeps his eyes on the road. "Whatever you need."

After guiding him along, you sit in the bedroom, gathering all of your clothes. Paul came in with you, just in case. Tyler ended up not even being home. Paul helped you grab everything you need. You set the house key down on the table and lock the door behind you.

Paul starts driving, and the silence is killing you. "Do you work, y/n?" He breaks the quiet. "Yes. At the moment, I'm working at a diner and the library. I make just enough to pay my phone bill and the car." He nods his head. "Where do you want to go tonight?" He asks. "A motel." You sigh. "Okay, I'll pay." He says. You look at him like he's crazy. "Bruh! No!" You squeal. He laughs loudly and then stops at a red light. "You're going to see what it's like to be taken care of." His words made you jump in your seat and turn to him. "We just met! What are you talking about?" You laugh. "Hey, you have nobody and moved to Forks. You're on your own. I have friends and family. Trust me. You won't be alone anymore."

2 weeks later:

You've been super close with Paul and have been hanging around his family. Well, friends, but they're his family. Embry loves when you come along with Paul because you're the only person who will play video games with him. Quil does, but Quil has been busy lately.

Paul let you move in with him. You feel guilty and try so hard to give him money for it. He refuses to take anything from you. You are trying to find a place around him to live, but Paul never seems to want to talk about houses. Paul has a very small and cute house. He's very clean, which is a plus! He only has one bedroom, so at first you took his bed. You felt horrible for taking his bed, so you bought a blowup mattress for yourself. Of course, Paul made you stay on the bed and him take the mattress on the floor.

Your alarm wakes you up. You groan and stand up. You took today off because Paul says you need a break. You go pee and then sit on the bed. You check your phone.

Paul: good morning. I'll be home earlier than usual.

Emily: Hey, sweet girl.

The curiosity is building in your stomach. What do Paul and his friends do to make money? How's he able to help you?

You: Hey paul

Paul: Hey y/n

You: what do you even do all day?

Paul: Mechanic work.

Veey vague, lol. You cuddle into the blanket and fall asleep.

You wake up and check the time. It's 4:00 p.m. you get out of bed and decide to go over to Emily's.

"I'm so glad you're a part of the family now." She smiles as she soaks up the sun on the towel in her front yard. "I'm happy to be here. It's just strange how Paul is so willing to do all of this for me." You lean your head back. "Isn't it obvious?" She giggles. "It is, but I still don't get it." You reply. "You will." Her answer made you stop and think. You're too scared to push more. Embry, Quil, and Sam walk up to the house. "Hey, y/n!" Embry sits next to you. "Hey, guys! I'm guessing Paul will be home soon. I'm gonna cook dinner for us both." You stand up. "Housewife already?!" Quil playfully shoves you. "Oh stop! It's the least I can do for all he's done for me." You reply.

The front door opens as you put your dishes in the dishwasher. "Hey! How was it today?" You ask him. He takes off his shoes, and you see how sweaty he is. "It was good! I hope you got the rest you needed." He walks over to you. "That smells so good. I'm gonna shower and then eat." He smiles at you before walking away. You can't help but blush. Oh geez. This guy.

You start cleaning up when you accidentally cut your hand with a steak knife. "Ow! Shit!" You yell. Blood immediately starts dripping on the floor. Paul comes running out without a shirt and just his shorts. He's quickly at your side. "Woah! What happened?" He grabs your bleeding hand. He guides you over the sink with a hand on your lower back. He turns on the water and puts your hand under. "It burns." You groan. "I know, babe. Just hold on." He stands behind you, holding your hand under the water. You caught on to what he said but didn't want to point it out. He grabs peroxide out of the cabinet above you and pours it on your wound. He turns off the water and keeps his hands on you.

Later that night, you two are laying in your beds, about to sleep. Your hand is wrapped up. "Paul?" You ask. "Hmm?" You get nervous. "You called me babe earlier." You said blankly. He sighs and then turns on the lamp. You look at him in confusion. "I don't want you to go." He gets out of the mattress and sits on the bed. "What do you mean?" You ask. So quickly, he's hovering over you. His face is inches away. You could scream in fangirl. Your face turns red. You can't do this anymore. You grab the back of his neck and pull his head down. His lips meet yours. Automatically, your world begins to shift. You can feel flowers blooming inside of you. The magic is happening. His lips are perfectly on yours. His tongue makes its way in. You push the blankets off of you, and he rests his body on yours. You wrap your legs around his waist, and his hands grab your wrists, pinning you down.

He's not in bed by morning. You sit up and smile. That was the best night ever. You go to the bathroom and look in the mirror. Bruises on your inner arm, your thighs, and a hickey under your ear. You run and check your phone.

Paul: good morning babe.

You check the time and notice you're late for your shift at the library! Shit! You call them up so quickly. "Y/n, you okay?" Your boss asks you. He's the sweetest old man ever. He's super understanding. It's just you, him, and your coworker Angela. "Yes, sir. I'm okay! I'm so sorry for being late. I'm coming in." You urge. "You're okay! Look, I needed an extra day of work anyways, sweetie. You go ahead and relax. You can come back tomorrow. I know two jobs is hard." He sighs. You groan and sit on the bed. "You won't be penalized, y/n. You're okay. Just relax today." He reassures. "Thank you, Mr. Miller."

You call Paul to let him know you'll be home all day today as well. He picks up. "Hey. You okay?" He asks. "Yeah, I'm just calling to let you know I'll be home today, too."

Later that night, you two are sitting on the couch, watching TV. "Paul, can we talk?" You ask. He mutes the TV and turns to you. "What's up?" He smiles. "What are we?" You ask. "What do you want to be?" His face gets a bit closer to yours. "I want to be more than friends." You blurt it out. "There you go. You're mine." He grabs your hand. "But, I do want to talk to you about something." He adds. "Mhm?" He bites his lip, trying to conjure up the words. "I don't want you working so much. I want you to stay here with me. I know it's a lot and I know it's fast but there's a lot to be explained." He closes his eyes and sighs. "Paul, you've done so much for me. More than I could ever ask. Honestly, since I met you, I've been head over heels." You giggle. He grabs your waist and pulls you on his lap, attacking you with kisses. He stops as well as your giggling, and he looks at you. "I have to tell you something very serious." He says. You nod your head and watch his eyes. "You remember the wolves?" He looks so nervous. You pull back a bit and look over him. "What about them?" You ask in a panic. "That was Sam, Jacob, and I was the one who stood there in front of you." He explained. You never went into detail about the wolf in front of you or really what happened exactly. So the fact that he knew that, sent chills down your spine. "How?" You ask. "That red eyed woman is a vampire. My tribe descends from wolves. When a new vampire comes into town, one of us shifts." You get off of his lap and stand above him. "Why are you just now telling me this?" You ask in shock. "Because there's this thing wolves do." You stare at him, waiting for more. "Imprinting. The universe gives us a soulmate. I imprinted on you that day. You are my soulmate. If you don't want this bond, please tell me. We can just be friends if you want." He stands up in front of you and tries to hold you steady as you're beginning to panic. "Hey, sweetie. It's okay. Breathe. What can I do?" He's whispering.

2 weeks later:

Your eyes wander across your boyfriend's body. He looks down at you and grabs your waist. "I can't get over how such a hot man imprinted on me. I get to see this after every patrol." You lean up and kiss him. He holds onto you and then pulls you down on top of him on the bed. You straddle his waist, feeling him in between you. "I love you, y/n." He says on your lips. "I love you, more Paul." You say back and pull off your shirt.

"Uhm, guys, small house. Pack of wolves in here! Please." You hear Jared call out. Oh yeah, you were so engrossed in your honey. You forgot the wolves were sleeping over because of some vampire duty. You pull away from him and giggle. "Damn it. I wanted to be on top this go around." You tease. He groans and then kisses you again. "Don't let them stop you." You slap his chest softly causing him to laugh. "That's gross, Lahote."

[monkberryfields]

Top 5 Paul cunty moments plz I need to feed my kids

God just scroll through my blog or any Paul blog and you'll be well fed!! And your army of children. This is going to be hard because everything he does is a little cunty so....

#1.) Snow Princess Fur Coat

This is top cunty Paul for me. His sunglasses, the coat that makes him look like Liz Taylor, and his daintiness. Sorry that's a f-a-g c-u-n-t.

#2.) His training bra outfit while warming his hands in Linda's crotch.

(Thank you, @fkajohnlennon for reminding me of this work of art!!)

I don't think I should say more about this. Honestly, the entirety of the 1970s should be under here. And yes that includes "Too Many People".

#3.) Blue scarf action

Look at his strut!! No crumbs left here!! All he needs to do is lip sync for his life!! Death drop!! Other drag vocabulary words!!

#4.) The multitudes of Paul using his middle finger to scratch rather than his index finger like a normal person.

He knows exactly what he's doing. And before I hear "but Mads, Paul is British and the middle finger isn't a thing in the UK so he can't possibly know that the middle finger means -"

Take that!!

#5.) Whatever this is...

("the deer on the road going straight for my headlights" stance)

I hope your children are well fed after this!!! Give them some good soup. Maybe a pierogi if you think they deserve it!

[kinsfaun]

Paul McCartney in his fur coat being a princess, in Austria.

Help! 1965

[scozthewoz]

mercs as cat breeds + kitty merc headcanons

inspired by/in collaboration with @joonliebe (i changed a few of them sorry pookie 💔)

kitty headcanons are from my cat fortress AU where all the mercs are cats that are foster fails because nobody wants those motherfuckers and now miss pauling is stuck with them all

spy ▪︎ persian - fancy and high maintenance. the signature bond villain cat

likes to be alone. needs to be taken to the groomer once a week or he gets pissed off and starts tearing up the couch. he has a very strict schedule and if his terms are not followed he throws a tantrum. he also sneaks out of the house and dissapears frequently. a dick to the rest of the cats, except scout for some reason.

heavy ▪︎ siberian - big boys with big coats, comes from siberia

the most well behaved cat there. scarred up and scary looking from his time in the pound, but he's suprisingly very quiet and peaceful. naturally chunky and big boned. miss pauling's favorite. he's a bonded pair with medic, they can normally be found grooming each other. he tends to wrangle scout when he's being too much, he doesn't like to see miss pauling stressed.

pyro ▪︎ sphynx - just a weird lookin thing. also an affectionate and energetic breed that likes to wreak havoc

peculiar little intersex kitty covered in burns, owners died in a house fire (that she may or may not have caused). both eyes are gone, but she navigates just fine. knows how to turn the stove on and has set multiple small fires. miss pauling puts him in cute little sweaters since he doesn't have any fur to keep him warm.

sniper ▪︎ savannah - hybrid of a house cat and a wild serval

very solitary, like spy, but not hostile to the others. owners were an old couple that died and it shook up the already shy cat. miss pauling doesn't need to feed him like the others since he sneaks out and hunts his own meals. almost completely silent unless he's sitting at the window and chirping at birds. evident dislike for spy. quiet and low maintenence so not a huge headache, but he tracks mud in the house. he's very skittish too, runs off or hides whenever there's company.

medic ▪︎ turkish angora - graceful. very majestic. cunty, even

on paper, he seems like a very good cat! he's an ex-service animal that still carries out some service tasks, like deep pressure therapy when miss pauling is getting anxious or retrieving stuff. only problem is that he loves bringing dead things inside, and he goes out of his way to rip it to shreds and get blood and guts ALL over the house. he also has a temper issue, and he needs little kitty glasses because his eyesight is shit.

engineer ▪︎ munchkin - haha short legs!! oh yeah, and they're pretty smart

used to be a workshop cat around for pest control, lost a leg in an accident. workshop guys gave him a kitty sized hardhat he gets very upset without. he's got a hard time jumping up on stuff since he not only has short legs, but he's got a prosthetic one too, so miss pauling made him a few kitty staircases up to his favorite spots. he likes stealing tools from neighbors and and scrap metal from outside and stashes them under the couch.

demoman ▪︎ scottish fold - scottish, prone to eye problems

missing an eye and has some singed fur from teens with fireworks. little kitty eyepatch. he frequently gets into the bailey's irish cream miss pauling keeps on top of the fridge and has to be brought to the vet for liver issues at least once a month.

soldier ▪︎ ragdoll - developed in america !!🇺🇸 tend to rough house when playing and are very vocal

used to belong to a war veteran, then became a stray after he died. clipped ear. his body's kept shaved because of scarring and matting issues, so he's got furry boots and a puffball tail, but the fur on his noggin covers his eyes. he frequently bothers the others. a big sweetheart for miss pauling, but agressive with anyone else. likes fetch. dog in a cat body.

scout ▪︎ siamese - the extroverts of the cat world, very energetic and chatty, also very clever.

his ma and brothers are all siamese, but he's got an oddly fluffy tail like a persian.. he's a big fan of miss pauling, never leaves her alone. gets pissy and scratches the curtains or breaks a glass when she's giving one of the other cats too much attention. wayyy too clingly and always causing some sort of trouble or getting into places he shouldn't. he also meows CONSTANTLY.

[gardenwalrus]

fave genre of help! photos is just paul in his big fur coat looking vaguely uncomfortable

[m1ssunderstanding]

Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day 21: The Concert

Every time they're not on camera I simultaneously feel so relieved for them and so upset that I don't get to watch. Messed up of me, but hey. Remember that slightly disturbing quote where Paul said he actually does believe he's kind of public property and he's fine with that?

He looks so determined. Like the fairy tale prince staring down the dragon or Enjolras about to hijack a funeral (Literally my baby was conceived after I watched this in IMAX so if that tells you anything about my feelings . . . I'm going to be annoying I'm sorry I can't help it)

Her legs look so good in those tights! I love that Mo came not because her boyfriend needs his mommy but because she wants to see them perform! Kissing her on the mouth right now.

Danger boy Paul!

Fun fact, I was this John for Halloween in 2021 to a college party. My hair was already like that, and I had dirty white keds and black jeans, so I just did fake sideburns, fake glasses, and a fake fur coat. I tried to get my best friend to be Paul. She wanted to be a hooker, and I was like “It’s the same thing!”

See, look at him and his whorish ways!

John’s little lip-bit smile. He’s so happy with himself nailing that solo. Cutie. 

Cocky boys. As they should be. I love when they’re proud of their work together. Get Back is 95% just Looks between John and Paul, isn’t it?

John and Paul instantly jump into their little “humble working class entertainers” act. You know what just occurred to me? You know how they talked about the “rattle your jewelry” comment backstage and Paul dared John to say it? I wonder if they talked about the “audition” comment too.

It really is a beautiful thing they’re doing. It’s lovely, watching everyon leave their desk jobs and their shopping and whatever else to sit in their fire escapes and congregate in the street and huddle together on rooftops. It really is just like the happy end in a sixties zeitgeist movie. 

All the girls nervous to be too enthusiastic after years of being made fun of themselves and watching others like them being mocked on TV. Let girls like things, damnit!

Mo jamming! I’m in love.

John mouthing Paul’s lyrics.

“Paul McCartney singing that. What a voice.” Literally me if time travel existed. 

“And if SOMEBODY loved me like she does,” Well, it is good manners to look at the person you’re talking to, I guess. But you do have an audience, John. And a mic and a camera. 

“Absolutely disrupt all the business in this area.” Yes! Get those blue meanies, boys!

“No lay rishi gahd blay bloojaygoo” should replace all the stupid quotes the Lennon estate puts on everything they sell. Then I’d actually want their shit. Paul trying to magic the words from his head into John’s there. Successfully, though.

That “Pleeeeeheeeeease” is one of the prettiest beatles vocal moments. I love it with all my heart. And clearly, so does Paul. Doing that thing he does, inappropriately thrusting into his bass. 

Oh my gosh it’s the song Paul and John do together on tour right now!

That “Yyyyyeeeeeah, yeaaaaaah!” (I mean the whole song, the whole concert, but especially that) does things to me. 

John’s extremely blurry, because he turned his head quick enough to give him whiplash there, sorry everyone. But look! They’re having the time of their lives! They just love performing together so much!

Everyone goes to check on their accumulating audience. (except Paul. Wonder what that’s about.)Ringo’s little pleasantly surprised smile is so so sweet!

It must be so fun for them to be performing One after 909 again after all these years. Bitter sweet with everything that’s changed since then. 

LMAO Kevin thank you for your service!

He’s a silly cutie.

The mic in the street asking that girl if she’d like them to come back every lunchtime. Imagine if they did? How cute would that be? Like back to their cavern lunchtime shows. Maybe that could’ve saved them.

Them playing God Save the Queen reminds me of that story where Brian was like, “This bigger manager wants to buy your contract from me, and I just wanted to be straight with you. They could probably get better deals for you.” and they were like, “If you sell us to him we’re only playing God Save the Queen from that moment on.” It’s probably a fake story, but that’s what it made me think of. 

I always think that quote of Paul’s is so strange, where he was like “I never got the chance to watch John while we were playing.” Like. What are you talking about, baby?

Literally “Uh. Yeah. Uh. Yeah.” Fucking his bass. Staring at John. Okay? And I’m not supposed to take that and run with it? I’m not supposed to assume from that that you want to fuck your songwriting partner?

I think he genuinely wants to get arrested. I really do. I think he wants them all to get arrested so they can finally be alone in a room together. A lovely cell for four. Just shimmying at them. And Billy looking at him like, Bro. What the fuck is wrong with you?

Paul’s “woo” and shimmy :: John’s “woo” and weird little kick move. And Paul looks so fond, of course. 

God bless Mal for stalling those little fucks as long as humanly possible. And Debbie! “Don’t actually go on the roof because it’s overweight.” Gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss!

Absolutely LOVE John and George turning their amps back on. That’s right. You guys are what’s keeping the country going at this point, so if you want to play on your roof they better let you play on your roof and say thank you.

All the times when they just simultaneously turn to each other. Like, yes, this is our que to stare hungrily into each other’s eyes. 

My stomach just dropped at those words across the screen. “This was the Beatles’ last public performance.” We know, Peter Jackson. You don’t have to remind us. Jeez. 

John and Paul’s two very different but equally important leadership roles in the band at work here at the end of the concert. John delivers his iconic line, makes everyone laugh, and seals the band’s last performance with a very tight bow. Meanwhile, Paul’s climbing the gate to bypass the crowd and schmooze the police out of arresting Mal. 

THIS is sooo cute. Heads buried together and John’s very sweet, “‘s’matter? Hmm?” 

George is so cute here in the control room afterward. No wonder they don’t listen to his not wanting to do things, honestly, if he acts like this after. “What’s the law say why you can’t do that? Well how disturbing the peace? Yeah, I’m for taking over London. And every rock group in the world all on different buildings, playing the same tune.” Adorable.

Poor John. It breaks my heart that he doesn’t think his little lyric flub is funny. He’s disappointed in himself. I wish he could see that that’s one of the things everyone loves about him. George was grinning ear to ear about it. For fuck’s sake, that’s one of the reasons Paul fell in love with you in the first place. If only John could see himself the way we see him, you know? 

This little moment cracks me up. John always has to be mommy’s naughty little boy, and Yoko does a very sweet job of playing her part here. 

Linda and Paul are so touchy and clingy and it’s very romantic and I love that Ringo joins in and makes fun of them.   

The whole after-show glow for everyone was just so palpable and fantastic. I wish they could've gone on performing together. Clearly it made all of them very happy.

[tribalauthor]

THE WISEWOMAN (roman reigns ff) <chapter 5>

word count: 2.3k

Sophia's POV

After the show was over, a big part of the roster came to congratulate me. My friends Samantha, Tiffany and Bianca. Also the boss, Triple H seemed very impressed. Nobody has expected me to be this good and on my first ever televised live show.

As of now Austin Theory is standing in front of me pouring his heart out.

"You were amazing, Soph." he praised me. "How could have Paul dared to hide such a gem from us?" the man shook his head and I just chuckled.

"Better late than never." I shrugged. "And hey, hope you win the next time." I pointed my finger at him.

"If you become my Wise Woman, it will be possible." he winked at me.

Roman's POV:

Everyone was hugging and congratulating Sophia. She really made quite the impression. My colleagues looked very thrilled from what they saw. Myself included, of course.

Everything went so smoothly for her first performance. That's a huge deal. She may not be my wise woman for long but I can say that I definitely see a future for her here.

I also see a future of her being with me. It has to happen and I have to act fast because I don't like the way my male colleagues are looking at her. Especially the ones who are close to her age like Theory, Carmello and Waller.

They looked like hyenas staring at the prey. But one thing about hyenas, they get the stuff that's left from the lion. And I'm gonna make sure there is no stuff left for them.

I approached Sophia with the intention of taking her away from here.

"Soph, the jet is ready to take off." I didn't lie, though. After a show I take off immediately.

A 5-hour flight is upon us.

Sophia looked at me and nodded her head.

"Okay. I just have to grab my things." she said 'bye' to everyone and headed to the locker room.

The three men were giving me strange looks and I just crossed my arms, stared a hole through them and headed to the room.

I think I just made my statement in front of the colleagues.

I knocked on the door and I heard a "Come in" from Sophia.

The second I got in the room, she looked puzzled.

"Since when do you knock? This is your room." she said.

"I thought you might be dressing up." I scratched my neck and she chuckled.

"Weren't you offering me help with the dress up before the show? Why you act so nervous now?"

Touchè.

"You said it alone. I offered you some help, so you could dress up faster." I gave the most dumb explanation ever and she squinted her eyes.

"Do you think that it would be faster?" Sophia looked at me with a note of scepticism.

"No." I just gave up and looked down. "Not at all."

After a few seconds I glanced at her and she looked very proud, trying to surpress a laugh of victory.

"Is this funny to you?" I managed to ask in a chill tone.

I put my hair into a bun and then went to the couch to grab my backpack.

"Kinda, not gonna lie." she said as she put on her beige fur coat on and reached to grab her little suitcase but I stopped her and did it for her.

"Thanks" she said softly.

As we went to the plane and all four of us took our places, I saw Sophia loosing her bun and her beautiful long, blonde hair fell on her back like dominoes.

It looks so soft. Must be nice running your fingers through it.

She started fixing it a bit.

This view looks like those slow-mo movie scenes where there is a pretty woman doing the most normal thing and a guy who drools over her.

I am the guy.

I caught her suddenly looking at my side since she is at my left on the other part of the plane. This caused me to react quickly and turning my head at my front.

"What are you looking at?" she giggled.

"I think there is a spot on your window." I immediately lied and I know she knows I am.

Sophia took a look at the window next to her.

"I don't see anything." she said and then pulled a book from her little suitcase. "You should probably see a doctor."

"What are you implying, miss?" I furrowed my eyebrows from offence.

"That you might need glasses." she replied innocently. "They would look good on you, actually."

It's the way I was ready to drop a little scold session on her but the last sentence really got under my skin and I tried to surpress the down bad giggle that was about to come out.

"You think so?"

"Yeah." she replied certainly. "You are probably gonna look like a professor. Professor during the day and wrestler during the night." she said in a dramatic narrative tone and started laughing and I followed her too.

However, I started thinking.

Would she like me if I was her professor? Has she liked any of her professors? Or older men in general.

"I don't think a professor with my looks exists." I spoke confidently.

"I don't know but there was this one Media Law professor." she shook her head, closed her eyes and pressed her lips.

WHAT?!

"What about him?" I asked in a super cool tone meanwhile I could feel burning inside.

So she has crushed on older men before.

"Nothing." she just replied and then it hit her what impression she might have left and suddenly became uneasy. "Nothing happened cause I am all about business since day 1."

"But if you had the opportunity?" I raised my eyebrows and she stared at me in distress, her teeth on her lower lips wishing it was my teeth instead.

"I don't know. Forget it." she turned around and opened the book.

No, Sophia. I am not gonna forget it.

I need to know.

Sophia's POV:

I hope this will leave him wondering.

But yes, clearly I have crushed on some elder men before but never been in a relationship with one.

"What are you reading?" Roman continued asking me questions.

"'Goddesses in every woman'. It's from 1984." I stated.

"A year before I was born." my jaw dropped pretending to be surprised.

"So you are 1985?"

"Yup." he confirmed.

"I thought you were younger." I still acted slightly shocked.

I saw how Roman blushed from my comment. He can't really hide it.

"Stop." he waved his hand.

"It's true. Your skin is amazing and with a little beard dye you might look like my peer." I continued testing him and he looked as if he is gonna melt any second.

"I mean what can I say?" he bit his lip and shrugged. "A beard dye?" his expression changed suddenly as if he is still digesting what I said.

"That's just a suggestion." I shrugged and he started touching his beard.

"It's kinda long, too. I have to book an appointment for the barber." he concluded and I started giggling.

The girls are right. Maybe he likes me for real.

"How often do you go?" I asked.

"Every two weeks cause I also have to fix the hair and stuff." he pointed at his side hair that is kinda starting to grow already.

"Your hair is amazing." I complimented him yet again and I swear I saw a little blush on his cheeks.

"Not as yours though." he laughed and looked down. "Is this how you ask your uncle for money?"

"Never needed to ask him. He just gives it to me." I flipped my hair.

"Valid." he slightly tilted his head and started thinking something.

"Do you have nephews?" I crossed my legs.

"I have 4 siblings. Each of them has two kids. Do the math yourself." what I notice about him is he moves his hand a lot while talking and explaining things.

That hand looks big as hell, though. It would cover my face twice.

"That's so cute." I slightly pouted. "I would never be an aunt since I am an only child." this is like one of my weak subjects.

"Well, you can be if you marry a man with a lot of siblings...like me." he added the last part quickly and chuckled slightly.

I followed him and did the same.

"Guess I have to put that in my future husband requirements list." I shook my head.

"Have you ever met a man that completes all of these requirements?" I knew he would ask this. I iust knew.

What I'm hoping for is I don't get the 'What's your type' question cause we've all been there.

I showed him my hands.

"Do you see a ring on these fingers?" I asked rhetorically and he laughed softly.

For a man of his size, his laugh is very soft, comforting even.

"You are still so young, you have time." he reassured me. "As an elder, I would advise you to really choose wisely. I know you probably got this a lot, I know it's clichè but it's true."

I nodded my head.

"It's just I'm 26, soon to be 27. Most of my friends and acquaintances are married or engaged, some of them are expecting kids and here I am fresh after ended relationship." I said my life story in a nutshell.

It's really not funny. I still hang out with my friends from college and high school but it turns out I am the only one that's focused on her career at the moment.

I thought Robert was the one for me but the second we started living together, it just didn't work at all.

"I am freshly after ended marriage and look at me." Roman just shrugged as if it's nothing. "See my cousins, my siblings they all have kids except for me."

"You are divorced?" I acted shocked once again.

"Yup." he did one of these deep breathing outs men usually do and leaned back on his seat.

"And how you deal with it?" I managed to ask the question now that we are in the topic.

"Better than most people, honestly. The whole process was just scarily smooth. Maybe because it was a mutual feeling." Roman pressed his lips and slightly nodded his head.

"That's very important, yes." I stated. "But you probably wouldn't wanna marry again."

"Wrong. Why wouldn't I? The fact that I didn't make a right decision once doesn't mean I won't try again. I want to have kids, Sophia." he seemed pretty determined.

I like the way he thinks actually. Most people like him just give up but he seems certain he won't. I mean let's be real. There are millions of women dying to marry him, so he will really be okay.

"I wanna have kids, too one day." I sighed. "But I have to find the right father."

There was a loud snore coming from behind. It startled me and Roman causing us to turn back.

It was from Jimmy. Him and Solo have been in a deep sleep ever since we got on that plane.

"Quiet, big Jim." Roman playfully scolded him and then looked at me. "He won't hear me."

"They have earbuds." I mumbled as I looked at them.

"Usually after a show if we have a long flight with the jet or ride with the bus, we fall asleep immediately." he explained to me.

"Then why are you not sleeping now?" I called him out.

"Cause I wanna talk to you. Get to know you. You are my Wise Woman." he pulled out the defending tone. "We are a team now."

I smiled at him and looked away.

"Valid." I managed to say while trying to calm myself down and took my book but he suddenly got up to the little bar and opened the fridge that was underneath it.

"You want some glass of wine?" he pulled out a bottle of wine. Cabernet Sauvignon to be exact.

Of course he would buy the expensive stuff.

"You and your obsession with giving me drinks." I squinted my eyes at him.

He just laughed out loud and opened the bottle with the corkscrew pretty smoothly then pulled two wine glasses from the cupboard next to the fridge.

"It was your big night. I think we deserve a lil' celebration." he turned his back in order to sip the drinks.

"Okay, but just one glass." I said with my index finger up, pointing one.

"Alright. Whatever works for you." he took the glasses and came to me to give me one. Roman was towering over me and I was staring at him with doe eyes.

The way he makes me feel so small and soft and feminine. I know this is how you are supposed to feel around men but nowadays, it's rare to get this effect.

I was about to thank him but he beat me to it.

"As I see you don't trust yourself when you are drunk." he commented and my jaw almost went to the floor.

"Maybe I don't trust the people I am drinking with. Thank you so much." I said with aggressive tone while grabbing the glass.

Now Roman seemed like he was offended.

"Are you saying that I'm not a trustworthy man?" he is kinda cute when he gets offended because his whole face wrinkles and you can barely see his eyes.

He is so funny.

"I am not saying anything. Just that as a woman, I have to be careful always. Thinking two steps ahead of everybody. A lot of men have been trying to get me drunk and sleep with me but..." I shook my head.

"I understand but you should also understand that I am not like your peers. I know how to impress a woman without using alcohol." he spoke confidently and licked his lips while looking at me straight in the eyes.

Okay, Roman. Okay.

He knows how to talk too. I mean are we surprised? It's what Geminis do best.

I raised my eyebrows and pressed my lips, plotting my next repsonse.

"I'm sure you do." I said and he flashed his pearl smile at me.

"Cheers." he lowered his glass near mine so they could cling.

We made an intense eye contact as we drank from our beverages.

He is a charming man, indeed.

[crepesuzette2023]

Having the best time on here? George.