#i listened to more 80s music this year than i did in the actual 80s | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

itsharleystuff · 5 months

Text

╰─▸ 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

‘ I just wanna be one of your girls tonight ’

— 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Rockstar!Joel x afab!fem!reader (no outbreak alternative universe).

— 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 8.7k

— 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Your best friend’s boyfriend has an older brother that turned out to be the guitarist of a famous rock band from the 80s. You meet Joel by accident before his concert and things take an interesting turn.

— 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ content (minors dni!), age gap (Joel is 48, reader is said to be in college tho her age isn’t specified), sex, p in v sex, porn with barely any plot, sex with a “stranger”, a bit of dirty talk, oral sex (f), use of ‘slut’, praise, mirror sex, fingering, some oral (m), cum eating, reader calls Joel an ‘old man’, smoking (they share a cigarette), pet-names (sweetheart, darling, honey). Also, I know nothing about guitars or concerts so this is probably very inaccurate. This one’s roughly edited, forgive meee. No use of y/n.

— 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬: One of the girls - The Weeknd, Lily Rose-Depp, Jennie. Breakin’ dishes - Rihanna. Todas mueren por mi - Cartel de Santa.

Third-wheeling has now unintentionally become your most recurrent hobby since your best friend started dating Tommy Miller. Not that either of them minded, given that it was their idea.

Tonight was different, however.

"I could've been a part of it, y'know?" the man boasts, "I just didn't know how to play any instruments or how to arrange tunes... I have a nice voice, though. If that counts for anything."

Ary, your friend, giggles at his statement and replies with a comment that you didn't quite listen. Tommy's car stereo is currently blasting The Clashers' latest album— Joel Miller's rock band, that is. Two days ago, you had no idea who the eldest Miller was –only that he existed–, much less that he was the guitarist of a very popular 80s band. Now his brother is taking you and his girlfriend to their gig, to which he was given front row tickets. Nice.

Their music was actually pretty good, though some of the songs sounded more country than rock. Tommy explained that those were most definitely written by his brother, due to his love for the genre. Apparently, The Clashers have had a recent comeback with their newest album and a small tour, all after a long, undefined hiatus that went on for nearly a decade and a half. "Joel's fault", the younger Miller said, "he became a father. A single one, to top it off. But he's the best at it, don't ever doubt that."

"How old is he again?" you wonder, suddenly curious about the age gap between the siblings.

"Forty-eight. His girl Sarah just turned nineteen a couple months ago." You nod absentmindedly at the response.

You met Tommy almost a year ago, when Ary and you used to work at a cafeteria outside of Dallas' university. She'd graduated a few years ago, but needed money to pay her rent and coincidentally, you did too. You hit it off right away, becoming friends but also roommates in further time. Though you were still in college and she was a bit older, that never seemed to be an issue with your friendship or your schedules. Tommy came along shortly after, turning up every day at the café with his charisma and nice manners, making his intentions with Ary very clear since the beginning.

"D'you think there'll be a crowd?" your question makes her raise a brow quizzically.

"Most likely," she retorts thoughtfully. "Why? Are you regretting your own idea?"

Her boyfriend chuckles at that, knowing perfectly well how much you disliked loud, cramped places. It's not that you didn't enjoy this sort of events once in a while, but being someone who gets easily overwhelmed around people, you mostly prefer the sort of lay-back dates. Nevertheless, it was you who came up with this plan for today. With college giving you such a hard time and your colleagues being tremendous assholes lately, you needed something out of your comfort zone to fully unwind. Some action to pull you off the dull routine.

"Are you subtly implying that I'm a boring person?" you ask, falsely offended, crossing both arms over your chest. "Cause I swear I know how to loosen-up, I just need time to... Get used to it."

Tommy seems to be holding back laughter, but Ary doesn't even try to hide her amusement. "Girl, you're lucky I'm your friend, or else you'd be rotting in our local library," she scoffs.

You roll your eyes playfully, a smirk pursing your lips, "Yeah, cause that'll be such a tragedy. Who'd support you financially if I didn't study, huh?" you turn your head to her boyfriend. "Tommy?"

The man shrugs his shoulders, fighting against the urge to grin. "Oh, dear," she glances over her shoulder to look at you from the shotgun seat, bright smile painting her face. "Don't give him any ideas. He might just marry me."

✩ ° ｡⋆⸜ 🎧

Whilst Tommy went looking for a place to park, you and Ary walked to the nearest convenience store to grab some beverages. You were still running early anyway, which only meant a quick stop wasn't going to imply much trouble.

"I'll wait for you out here," with a head tilt, you silently indicate your friend to go ahead. "I need a cig."

She nods understandingly, "Want me to grab something for ya'?"

"No, I'm alright. Don't worry about it."

Ary stopped at the entrance to look back at you, staring intently for a weird extent of time, her eyes sparkling with joy. "Did I mention you look stunning?"

"You might've had, but that doesn't mean I don't love hearing it," the reply widened her smile. Once she went inside the store, you took a chance to peer at your reflection in the showcase.

This whole eighties vibe was certainly not something you were used to, but there was no denying how hot it made you appear. Aiming for a 'rockstar girlfriend' kinda look, you went for that smudgy, dark eye-makeup; as for the clothes, the mini skirt, low-cut bustier and oversized leather jacket paired with some nice boots kept the whole outfit together.

You blinked away, stunned by how confident you suddenly felt in your own skin. Chuckling to yourself, you started digging in your purse for a smoke. And as if the gods decided to toy with your faith, you luckily found a single one sitting at the very bottom; putting the filter between your lips, you then turned your bag upside down to search for the lighter, only to find that you hadn't brought it with you.

"Damnit," you spat in frustration, closing your eyes to picture in your mind where the last place you'd left it was.

Maybe it was next to your bed, on the nightstand; or perhaps in front of the stove... No, it definitely wasn't in the kitchen. The blurry image in the back of your head resembled more of a–

"Hey," a low, masculine voice called from beside you in a mellow tone, almost as if this mysterious man had a naturally sly nature but wanted to cool it down. "Need a light?"

He had a deep, soothing ring; raspy, profound and very southern-like. Frankly, you didn't know what you were expecting before setting your eyes on him, but it definitely wasn't a man such as he was. A wave of emotions washed over your body as you pried on him; big, broad, rugged and devastatingly handsome. Not to mention older than you— however, how much older is not a detail you care to find out. Your skin felt ticklish and warm, added to the sudden acceleration of your pulse.

First thing you noticed were his big brown eyes, shiny in sort of a childish way, regardless of the wrinkles that surrounded them when he politely simpered. You could tell he was a total heartthrob by the way his lips quirked and his head tilted downwards when addressing you.

He's thick in the arms and wide in the shoulders, something that was noticeable despite the black leather jacket he was wearing over a plain white t-shirt, tucked into a pair of worn-out denims. The cowboy hat on his head casts shadows upon his face but you're still able to make up his features: aquiline nose, strong jawline, soft lips under a styled mustache and a patchy, graying beard. Tall and handsome as hell.

"Yeah," you answer as soon as your mind allows you to, suddenly feeling your mouth dry when realizing you were staring. He bit back a smirk as he gauges at your reaction. "You've got one?"

"Lucky for you, I do." His left hand disappeared in the pocket of his jacket, taking out a simple red lighter. "I don't suppose you've got a cigarette to spare, do ya'?"

"Sorry," you frown apologetically, "this is my last."

He closed the gap between you, but instead of handing the lighter, he hunched down to lit the end of the dart still hanging from your lips, caging it with his big hand. And fuck, he smelled good. A mix of cedar and sandalwood, fresh and manly.

"No worries, doll." Dizzy with his presence, your eyes unconsciously bored into his. You can't move away, diving inside his pupils like you're hypnotized. "I'll just buy a pack for myself."

Caught up in that urge of keeping him near, you take the dart between your fingers and hear yourself say: "Unless you wanna share."

It was impulsive, not to mention irrational. Yet, all of the rational thoughts inside your brain had unforeseeably vanished in thin air, replaced by a strange need that rested in the pit of your stomach, a wicked desire that rushed through your veins like a drug. His brow shot up in surprise, giving you a subtle, pleased nod. He realizes there's something else behind your proposition, nothing that could be hidden with the way you're shamelessly looking at him.

"Let me guess," he commences, his calloused fingers brushing against your own when he takes the cig, orange end stained with your lipstick, "you're headed to the concert."

Your eyes squint with a crooked smile, "Are you that perceptive or am I just that obvious?" he takes a short drag, holding the fag with a nonchalant attitude and a mannerism that expressed experience.

"Bit of both," the shadows of smoke surround his face, hiding his features behind a thick, mysterious fog. "You've got that groupie vibe to ya'. The kind of girl that has her walls filled with boy-band posters," he jokes.

"Oh, is that it?" you ask playfully, mirroring his action to let the nicotine circle your system. "Cool it, cowboy. I ain't trynna get in trouble for fighting an old man."

He chuckles at your sarcastic remark and you can see the spark of a thin chain around his neck, along with the soft curls that gathered at his nape. Jesus, his side profile was divine.

"What's your name, darlin'?" he asks. You tell him, that southern drawl of his being more noticeable when echoing it. "You from around?"

"Yeah," you blow the smoke away from him, though he takes back the dart while you're at it. "Been here my whole life. You?"

He shakes his head lightly, "Austin. But I've been all over."

You can't help but smile inwardly, "That explains it."

"What thing?" the man asks with a certain intrigue.

"Nothing... You've just got that particular vibe." He's already laughing when you point at the cowboy hat, rejoicing in the way you played with his own words.

"I see that, groupie." He takes the almost consumed cigarette between his teeth and removes the hat from his head, running a hand through his soft curls. "Let's trade."

You watch in awe as he unexpectedly places the hat atop your own head. It sits well there and the way his eyes grow dark and his lips curve upwards can only mean he likes it too.

"What'cha think?" you inquire, slightly adjusting it.

"I think..." he eyes you up and down, ashing the cig with a tap of his index, "You should keep it. In exchange, I'll just take what's left of this lung-junk."

"Well, that doesn't seem like a fair trade," you cross both arms over your chest. "Isn't there anything else you want apart from that half-burnt smoke?"

His head tilts to the side as he meditates his answer, his chocolate hair now messy and a couple of those brown curls hanging loose across his forehead. For a moment, you're worried you might've sounded too raunchy for the occasion, but he looks pretty pleased. His eyes lock with yours and you feel your knees wobbly just from that undeniable tension that lingers in the air.

"I'll tell you what, sweetheart." Sweetheart. Damn, he's good. "Find me after the concert's over. You can repay me then with whatever you might find convenient."

Your brows crease at the scheme, curious, "How will I find you, though? I'm certain there'll be a lot of people."

He laughs darkly, like he knew something you didn't –which, to be fair, was probably true–. "Just ask for Joel. I'm sure someone will point you to the right direction."

Joel.

Joel...

Joel?

Could it be...?

"See ya' around, groupie." He sets off with a subtle head gesture, waving back at you.

Your mind was spinning so fast that you didn't even notice when Ary reappeared beside you, rambling something about a woman being annoying over the prices and fighting cashiers, too worked up to even notice your distraught— or your new acquisition.

✩ ° ｡⋆⸜ 🎧

The venue was crammed with people and there was a heady scent of pot all over the place, not unusual in these sorts of businesses. Thankfully, Tommy had arrived earlier to guide you through the masses.

"Here," he said, taking you and his girlfriend by the wrist. "We've got VIP seats, no need to go all the way down there." He pointed the barricade, where a ton of people were congregated to get the better spot.

The area in which you were located had a better view of the stage and was way more comfortable. Only till you finally sat down did Ary notice the new addition to your outfit.

"Did you buy that outside the store?" she wonders, sorta screaming to make herself heard over the mass. Tommy's eyes land curiously on you.

"Yeah, something like that."

"Funny," the man mumbles to himself, shaking his head lightly. "Very funny."

"What?"

"Well," he clears his throat and licks his lips nervously, "I just think it's funny that you'd get a cowboy hat in one of my brother's gigs."

Still in the shadows, you raise your shoulders to beguile him into spilling the details, "Why's that?"

Tommy taps his knee anxiously. "You see, when Joel was younger he'd often 'gift' his hats to any girl that would catch his eye. It was a way of... I don't know, making them one of his girls, you could say. By doing so, the other band members would see her and no one would dare to make a move."

His words fell upon you like an ice bucket. Joel, Joel, Joel. It just had to be the same Joel, because honestly, what were the chances?

Before you can retort, or even form an answer in your brain, the lights go out and the crowd bursts in cheers and shouting. But you can't for the life of you pay any mind to them, too focused on Tommy's story ringing in your ears. Seconds prior to the lights going on again, the sound of a single guitar key reverberated through the venue.

Did Joel Miller just mark you like cattle so no other man would approach you? Was that some kind of sick game he liked to play? If that were the case, you can't really say you're mad about it... Mostly thrilled, so to speak.

"So what would happen afterwards?" you asked, leaning to his ear, so you could make yourself be heard.

"Huh?"

"He'd make his move and then what?"

The man slightly winced as if you had just asked him the dumbest question in the book, "I think you know the rest."

You knew.

Of course you knew.

There's a voice saying "Goodnight, Dallas" and the spotlight is now on the five men standing on stage. You didn't even need to search for his image, your eyes immediately attaching to him like a magnet. A feeling of beguilement settles in your bones as you realize you've achieved that excitement you hoped to get tonight, at last.

Amidst chaos and loud screaming, he stood there in all his glory, perfectly aware of the impression his sole presence could cause. Messy brown hair, sun-kissed skin and that patchy, graying beard. Convenience store Joel turned out to be rockstar Joel.

The only thing that was different about his appearance were the dark aviator sunglasses that gracefully framed his face, a belt with a big, round buckle and the black Epiphone Wilshire guitar that was strapped to his shoulder with a sash. All of this new fashion somehow made him more physically appealing, if that was indeed possible. He looked like the type of man you'd rip off from a magazine and stick up in the corners of your vanity; the kind of star that girls and women would salivate over.

You could totally see the fascination and understand why it was easy for him to simply pick out someone he liked and take them back to his dressing room for a nasty time. Joel Miller was that guy.

In the back of your mind you register the fact that you're probably eye-fucking him whilst his younger brother and your best friend are both standing at your right. But you can't really help it— he was just so electrifying, such a magnetic force of a man. The whole world seemed to stop as the concert carried on, though you can only make out the melodies when you're far too distracted by Joel's charisma and mysterious air.

The way he moves on stage, too focused on his own act, fingers tugging at the strings and metal vibrating underneath his touch... It's fascinating how he makes it look easy and like a tremendous labour at the same time, pulling it all off with a wolffish smile on his face. The other band members had their own charm too, but your preference was undeniable.

They played the songs that you had been previously listening to, and the fact that they're being played live just amplifies the feeling of intimacy regarding the lyricism and musicality. Songs that talk about life's hardships, love, heartbreak and carnal desires. They all just hit different.

Towards the end of the concert, Ary started feeling dizzy, the amount of people and sudden dehydration giving her signs of a posible migraine. She tried not to say anything for the sake of your fun, realizing just how much you're enjoying yourself tonight. But at the end she truly couldn't, deciding to tell Tommy she needed to step back for awhile and go get some fresh air.

"I should go with her," you said in concern. His boyfriend shook his head and patted your shoulder.

"I'll go. You can stay if you want to, just call me if something feels off and I'll be back in a sec," he said reassuringly.

It took a few seconds to agree, although you eventually did. The event was almost over anyways. "Tell me if anything happens."

"F'course."

You watch as he leaves behind her with a certain remorse in your gut. The Clashers play three more songs afterwards, turning out to be much more emotional and heartfelt than you could've expected.

One by one, every single band member thanked the audience before the lights went out completely and the crowd stopped their clapping and cheering.

In order to avoid getting stuck at the exit from the people storming out, you decided to stay back and wait. You intended to reach your friend via message, sending a short "everything alright?" that did not deliver due to the awful signal. Only then did you start to grow nervous and more worrisome.

"Excuse me," out of nowhere, one of the security guards called for you when no one else was around –aside from the scattered people that had the same idea as you did–; a tall man with a 'staff' pin on his shirt. He asked for your name, but something about the way he worded the question made you believe he already knew it. "You've got a backstage invitation."

"A backstage invitation?" You tried holding back laughter. "From whom?” your eyes narrowed at a new clue. “Wait... Did Tommy meet up with Joel?"

The staff member furrowed his brows in surprise, "You came here with Miller's brother?"

"Huh? Yes... Isn't that why you approached me?" the stranger gave you a kind, slightly embarrassed smile.

"No, but you should come with me. Joel's in fact the one that asked."

"Oh..."

So, it was him after all.

'Someone will point you to the right direction', turned out to be quite literal.

You agreed to follow the guard. Maybe Joel could just reach Tommy and tell him you were fine. Although that'll mean you'd have to explain how you two had met. Well, shit... It’s not like it was a bad thing, right?

✩ ° ｡⋆⸜ 🎧

Backstage dressing rooms tend to be different depending on the facility where an event is held. In this case, there were rooms with the artist's names hanged on them and a handful of people moving around, spitting orders and following instructions. Everyone was so involved in their own affairs that no one really seemed to notice you, specially standing next to the security guy, who knocked twice on the guitarist's door.

It didn't take long before he appeared before you, that post-concert glow brightening up his features. His cocky smirk told you just how certain he was that you'd end up here eventually and how glad he was for it. You gave a quick nod to the man that guided you here and he disappeared just as quick as he came.

"Hey there, groupie."

"Joel." Your lips unconsciously curved, too. "I believe I owe you something." His hair was ruffled and the sunglasses rested atop his head, looking better up-close than he did on stage.

"Wanna come in?" the question sounded so genuine and innocent, it almost made you believe there wasn't a meaning behind it... Yet, you knew; you were both aware.

"Sure, but-" there was something you had to tell him... God, he smelled good— what was it you had to tell him? "Won't they scold you for having me here?"

His dressing room was fairly spacious, with a small leather couch, a coat stand with a couple of jackets and shirts hanging. His guitar rested on the corner, tucked inside its case; facing the couch was some kind of vanity where celebrities could get their makeup done, the lights around the mirror reflected a warm light.

"Don't think so, darlin'. I'm way too old for a scolding," he joked, closing the door behind you.

The very moment you were left alone, away from any prying eyes, the air shifted entirely; as if this whole space was your own private setting. That same feeling you experienced outside the store somehow crawled under your skin once more, adrenaline rushing through your veins in a crushing expectation.

"Did you enjoy the show?" you nod distractedly.

"I did. But I ain't gonna lie, it was a total shocker to find out that the hot guy I'd just met was actually a part of the group." Joel's eyes gleamed with an unfamiliar simplicity that invited you in and provided a certain comfort.

"I wish I could've seen your face," he retorted, his voice smooth and low.

"Why?" you bicker, "So I could further boost your ego? No, thanks."

He chuckles softly, his eyes squinting to reveal the tiny wrinkles that form around them; a sign that he's always been the type to laugh without remorse. Those are the small details that make him even more attractive in your perspective.

You lean against the makeup board, giving your back to the mirror and crossing both arms over your chest. The heel of your boots had started to feel uncomfortable, so you placed one leg across the other to shift some of the weight whilst his gaze followed your every move intently; the unfathomable depth of his eyes stirred something inside you, an urge to unleash your impurest thoughts.

"You've got quite an attitude, don't ya', groupie?" the man questions with humor. "But I'm pretty sure you just called me hot, so, either way, my ego was boosted," he pointed out smugly.

"Joel," you click your tongue, subtly shaking your head. "I bet there's tons of women saying that about you, and there's no doubt in my mind that you’re aware of it already."

That could not be denied. Throughout his life, Joel had always been aware of his charm and good looks, which eventually brought him popularity amongst the group. After having Sarah, he saw himself forced to tone down the amount of affairs and adventures he'd have, specially as a single father, always trying not to get his daughter's hopes high if she saw him with someone.

Honestly, despite him being back on track with the 'celebrity' lifestyle, he still wasn't planing on keeping up with his old tricks of bringing women backstage and giving them something to gush about with her friends. He really hadn't gotten involved with anyone during the tour until now... And it wasn't something he'd intended to do either. Everything happened so spontaneously, the way you two sort of bonded and just met out of the blue. Joel's goal wasn't any of this at first, he merely thought of how gorgeous you were and how comfortable he felt in your presence.

However, logic and good sense abandoned him the minute your eyes gaped at him; dark and alluring, with a spark in them that he could not escape, an intriguing verve that entranced him and crept under his skin. From that moment forward, he could only think about you while being on stage, hoping to catch a glimpse of your skin amongst the crowd but having to settle with the fresh image of you on his mind: your confident mannerisms, your striking smile and how good your legs looked in that mini-skirt. He tried to put on his best performance just to impress you.

"Yet, your perception of me is the only one I currently care about," he declares, taking a few decided steps towards you.

You beam, keeping your head held high, "I gotta give it to you, Joel. The hat thing, your whole performance... Very clever."

He's taken aback by your words, surprise written all over his face. "What d'you mean?"

"Come on, Joel," you reply with a roughish grin. "You really thought I wouldn't hear all about your schemes? Oh, here I believed I was special," you joke.

The man gets rid of that 'respectful' distance that kept you apart, slowly making his way to you, exuding that perpetual arrogance he naturally carried and never breaking eye contact. You returned the same energy; piercing his soul with those siren eyes, barely tilting your head back to expose your throat and unhooking your arms to give him a better sight of your breasts. Intentional or not, those little details were driving him insane.

"You are special, sweetheart," he murmurs, emphasizing the second word. "All of my girls are."

He was quite close now, his scent dazing your senses and the warmth of his body, plus that southern drawl of his, formed goosebumps on your skin. With boosted confidence, you reach out to softly grab the lapels of his jacket. You wait for him to push you away, scold you or react negatively... though he never does. Instead, his eyes fall from yours to your lips, licking his own distractedly. You motion to remove the shades form his head and place his hat back on, adjusting it lightly. In the meantime, you take your time to run your fingers through his hair, drag them along his jaw, feel the raspy sensation of his beard scratching your fingertips.

"S'that so?" you whisper, your breath fanning across his cheek. "You know what I want...?" His eyelids shudder, a muscle twitching on his neck as you lean to pour the next words into the shell of his ear. "I just wanna be one of your girls, Joel Miller..."

Those words have an immediate effect on him, his eyes darkening with blown away pupils. Your hand lowers to his chest, conscious of the strength with which his heart was beating, the heat of his feverish skin there where you touched him. His palms land on your hips, caressing the covered skin as they make their way to your waist.

"We'll see 'bout that, darlin'," he hushes, cupping your face with his right hand to keep you steady, restrain your control over him. His face is barely inches away from yours, practically breathing each other in. "You know what's gonna happen now, don't you?"

You gulp in suspense, eyes glued to his lips, waiting, wishing he'd just kiss you. "Yes..."

"Good," Joel's thumb swipes across your bottom lip, slowly coaxing your mouth open. "Is this what you want?"

You can barely muster up the courage to speak, nearly falling from the tension. "Please..."

"Mmm..." his nose rubs against yours and your eyes close instinctively. "That's not an answer, sweetheart."

Your hands fist on his shirt, desperate to touch him. "Yes, Joel."

"That's my girl," he praises, effectively creating a pool of arousal that smothers your underwear. But you've barely got any time to process it before his lips are finally on yours.

The kiss knocks the air out of your lungs, his plump lips molding against yours. Your fingers play with the curls at the base of his neck, your nails scratching his skin deliciously. Everything feels hot all of the sudden, the need to get rid of your jacket latent on the edges of your body. Joel holds your waist and quickly sits you fully on top of the board, making you squeal from the abruptness of the action; this way he can settle himself between your legs and flush his chest to yours. His lips never part from yours, swallowing down any noise that escaped your mouth.

The coarse fabric of his jeans feels rough against your exposed skin, his hands coming to grab the back of your thighs, sliding them beneath the hem of your skirt as you wrap your legs around his waist. The kiss is breathy and intense, you taste him when your tongue drags inside –a mix of mint and cigarettes–, your teeth crashing when he tries to assert his dominance by pulling your body closer to his. Your perfume, sweet and floral, lingers around him in a way that makes him want you even more. When he slowly licks your lower lip, you moan faintly and the sound makes him throb.

His fingers splay on your asscheeks, prodding you to feel the weight of his hardening cock against your inner thigh, consequently setting a fire in your lower belly. You catch his grunt in the kiss, the feeling of his mustache tingling on your skin whilst you grind your hips just to experience that friction once again, relishing in the familiar sensation of your arousal spilling into your panties, wet and warm. And fuck, part of you doesn't believe that this man is hard for you. Joel suddenly backs away, just enough to stare blankly into your eyes, casted with desire, and regain a bit of composure.

"Not a word about this, 'aight?" something you had figured he'd state sooner or later.

"Yes, sir. It'll be our dirty little secret," you grin right as he whispers a goddamnit.

Before he pulls you in for another heated kiss, you struggle to take your jacket off, taking your phone out of the pocket and hastily throwing it to the floor as he mimics your action. Joel uses this moment to fully take in the sight of you; the way your tits sit perfectly in that top, chest rising and falling from drawing ragged breaths, your exposed neck and shoulders, flushed skin ideal for him to nip at and trace with his lips. So he does just that.

He ghosts your mouth, towering over you but ignoring the need to reattach your lips to his. Alternately, he gently kisses your chin, making his way down your throat and between your collarbones. You're a panting mess under his touch, trying to keep yourself collected for the sake of not getting caught, yet failing when his teeth sank onto the pillowy flesh of your breast. You audibly gasp, holding onto his arm for dear life; though he simply huffs a laugh that vibrates through you.

"Don't worry, darlin'. In here, you can be as loud as you want to," he assures.

Joel descends to his knees in front of you and the image is far too erotic for you to hold back a whimper. He coaxes your knees farther apart, your denim skirt hunched up around your hips so he can peek at the red lace of your underwear. He grabs your calf and places a kiss to the side of your knee, looking up at you hungrily.

"Should we take this off?" he taps on your boot, calloused fingers tracing random patterns on your leg.

"Let's keep them on," you say, your hand stroking his cheekbone. "I want to wear them when I come on your cock."

His eyes glint with lust, "Fuck..." he rumbles, almost pained. "Who would've thought a pretty girl like you would have such a filthy tongue."

You can't help but smirk as his lips roam upwards, "You think I'm pretty?"

His gaze scorches with intensity, both his hands languidly sliding up your sides till his fingers hook on the edge of your panties, pulling them down your legs to take them off, "I think you're beautiful," he murmurs amidst. Your heartbeat hammers in your ears at the time he leans into the apex of your thighs, one of his brows quirking up at the sight of glistening slick sticking to your swollen skin.

"Poor thing," he coos, taking off the hat like a cowboy who's worked his whole shift and comes home to eat the best dinner he's ever had, placing it beside you. "You're so sensitive, baby..." you inhale sharply when he lays a teasing kiss on your inner thigh. "Been a while?"

You nod, though even if it has been a while since the last time you slept with someone, you're certain that most of your responsiveness falls onto Joel's doing. He tsked, shaking his head in the meantime and using his thumb to barely spread your folds. Your eyes look at him beneath heavy lids, lips parted as his mouth explores the area, his breathing tickling the sensitive skin.

"I'll take care of you, sweetheart."

Without warning, his tongue darts out to lick the slick around your entrance, ravishing on the sweet taste of your juices. Your fingers thread through his curls, swallowing hard at the new sensation. He takes his time with you, leisurely allowing your wetness to gather on his tongue, his nose nudging at your clit when he moves his head a certain way. It all makes your brain spin, overcome by the pleasure you're experiencing, actually permitting you to loose your cords and spill uninhibited whimpers that only egged him on.

"Shit, you're doing great..." you can feel his smile against your dripping core.

"You just taste amazing, darlin'," he's not lying. Joel's enjoying himself far too much as he buries his tongue between your folds, holding you tighter. "So fucking good..."

The back of your mind registers the brief pain of his fingertips digging in your flesh, thinking it may bruise in the morning. The other part can't even form a rational thought. You moan his name, calling out for something to ground you; but he's just as gone, if not way worse. Joel is bewitched by the headiness of you, clogging his senses entirely. It's been so long since he gave head, but he doesn't remember it like this— like he couldn't get enough, so eager to make you feel good, to hear those pretty sounds spill from your mouth.

"Oh my god..." you mewl when his lips close around your puffy clit, gently flicking his tongue over it whilst you run your hands through his locks.

He flattens his tongue against the bundle of nerves, tracing delicate circles that make your whole body shudder. You're messily dripping all the way down to the wooden surface as he selfishly alternates his attention between your aching bud and your hole.

"Look at you, honey," he mumbles, voice laced with desire. "Doin' so good for me."

His fingers swipe across your slit, making you squirm. "Joel, please-"

"I know, baby, I know..."

Though when he's about to dive in again, you catch the light of your phone through your peripheral vision: an incoming call. The ID read the name 'Tommy <3'.

Tommy???!!!!

"Shitshitshit," you quickly reach for the device, swiping the green button and muttering a wary wait to the man before you. Joel simply gawks at you with intrigue, the pads of his fingers still roaming around your core. "Hello?"

On the other side of the line, Tommy says your name with utter relief, "Thank god. I left you a thousand messages. Are you okay?"

More than okay. Your brother's tongue was inside my cunt just a few seconds ago, actually.

Obviously you can't say that.

"Uh... Yeah, everything's fine." You clear your throat, trying to mask the gasp that threatened to escape when Joel started rubbing tender circles on your clit. "The signal's just really bad."

"Yes, I noticed," he mutters, a bit frustrated. "Should I go get you? There's still plenty of people at the entrance and I don't want you to get lost."

"No- no..." you have to bite your bottom lip in order to muffle the unholy moan you were about to slip out. The bastard had just sinked one finger inside you experimentally, watching your face contort in pleasure as he reached for that particular spot. "I- have... Is Ary alright?"

"She took a pill and is knocked out in the backseats of my car right now," you can practically hear his smile as he speaks. "But... Are you sure you're okay? You sound... Agitated."

That was a way of putting it.

Joel is a greedy, jealous man. He wants all your undivided attention and will make sure to let you know. He decides to add a second finger, watching your eyes screw shut and your mouth gape as he curls them, your slick covering all the way to his knuckles.

"Yes, I met with a friend-" you tug at his hair hard enough to make him groan, his cock twitching with interest. "She's taking me home."

Your thighs start quivering and your body feels hot all over, an abrasive feeling of bliss rushing through every single nerve ending. You're close, and judging by the way you clench around his fingers, he knows too.

"Oh... Well, in that case just let me know once you get home. Please?" You think you answer, but you're not entirely sure. The call ends and your phone slips from your hand.

"Joel, I can't..." you whine when his lips latch to your nub once again, his fingers still working you open.

"Yes you can," he vows. You clutch at his curls with enough strength to work him up. "You're a big girl, you can take it."

And it's right then, when he repeatedly hits your g-spot, licking and sucking at your delicate clit, that your hips get a mind of their own, barely kept in place by Joel's strong grip on your hip. The coil finally snaps. You're not sure what you say, what words fall from your mouth... But they do dawdle on his mind. You shake from the magnitude of your orgasm, muscles starting to relax as Joel licks up every drop of your release, absolutely lost in the sweet taste of you. Your grasp on his hair loosened as he rose to his feet, letting you catch your breath.

He's on edge, his voice a hoarse rumble when he spoke. "Didn't anyone tell you," his left hand came up to brush his fingertips over your lips, "how rude it is to answer phone calls when this pretty pussy of yours is getting eaten?”

You lick your lips nervously. "I'm sorry..." he hums in response, "I'll make it up to you."

There's no time for him to reply since you crash your lips to his once again, frenetically searching to feel his weight pressed on top of you for a second time. This kiss is messy, rushed and needy. You can taste yourself in it as he pushes his tongue past your teeth.

Amidst the fuss, your hand snakes between your bodies to tug at his belt, fumbling to pop his pants open. Once you do, you can feel how warm and heavy his cock is, rock hard beneath your touch. He hisses at the flick of your wrist, moving up and down his length over the thin fabric of his boxers. Joel rests his forehead against yours to even his breaths, his chest heaving with a lustful sigh.

"Fuck," he grumbles, swiftly manhandling you so you're facing the mirror. His hand holds your face for you to stare back at your own reflection. "Aren't you a sight to behold?"

And you're certain that for a man like him, those words couldn't be truer. Sweat beads around your neck and sticks a couple hairs to your temples, eyes teary in the corners and lipstick smeared from the make out. Here and there your skin displays signs of his presence, part of you wishing they'd stay there till the next morning. If there was an accurate way to describe how you looked, that'll be wrecked.

"You should see yourself, Miller," you smirk, gesturing in his direction. His eyes reflected a prurient nature that added to his sex appeal, hair messy from your doing and an eager expression that gave him a downright pornographic aura. "Not bad for an old man."

His lips caress the back of your ear, hands driving the denim skirt farther up your hips. You cling to the edge of the work desk, making an effort to stand up in your weak knees, chills running down your spine when he gently nibbles at your earlobe.

"So much for not wanting to boost my ego, huh, sweetheart?" his gruff voice is both soothing and stirring, making all the blood rush straight to your pussy.

He parts your legs, spreading them with his knee and forcing you to bend forward a little. Your head turns to peek behind your shoulder, his every move being closely monitored by you, eyes widening when you finally fathom the sheer size of his cock. Your lower body pulsates with anticipation, another wave of arousal sticking to the inside of your thighs.

"Holy fuck-" you ramble as you watch him expertly roll a condom on his length. He's long and visibly thick, a prominent vein running from base to tip; your mouth waters just from the idea of wrapping your lips around it. "Shit..."

"Don't be getting all shy now, honey. Tis' what you wanted, then you're getting it," he rasps, lining himself between your legs.

"M'not shy," you retort, staring back at him through the mirror. "Was just thinking about how badly I wanted to blow you."

Joel stifles a groan, his hands snaking to your front to pull down the top and expose your tits. There was no need to wear a bra with a bustier, which you were glad for, cause it made it easier for him to pinch the peaked buds of your nipples. The head of his cock glides across your folds, coating it with the slick that keeps dribbling each time he bumps against your clit or makes you watch as he gropes your breasts.

"You talk like a slut." Your cheeks soared red and your pussy fluttered at the name-calling. The heat of his body on yours was simply intoxicating, making it difficult for you to think. "Is that how you want me to fuck you?" he whispers in your ear, nudging his cock at your entrance but not quite going in yet. "Nice and hard until I make an absolute mess out of you? Mmm?"

You nod, "Yes, god- yes. Please, Joel..."

He takes that plea as his cue to press himself inside you, slow and steady, allowing your body to adjust to the intromission. Your mouth falls ajar, nails scratching the wood under your fingers, vaguely squirming at the sharp sting of the stretch.

"That's it, takin' my cock so well," words of encouragement fall hoarsely form his lips like a chant and your body willingly melts into his. "See? I knew you could take it."

His thighs plunge to yours when he bottoms out at last, letting out a few pants and groans, his fingers pushing stray hairs out of your face. You can feel him jerk inside you, your walls enveloping his girth tightly, a wave of pleasure licking his spine at the feeling. He doesn't waste any more time, finding a pace of his liking as soon as he started moving and being relentless with it. The way his neck chain hits your shoulder blades with each thrust, the scrub of his beard when he kisses your temple and the dirty praises that he murmurs in your ear, somehow make the situation grounding; like it's really happening and you're not dreaming about it.

As Joel cradles you in his arms, your hand skirts to his nape in order to bring him in for a kiss. Each roll of his hips is calculated, deep and unswerving, knowing exactly how and where you liked it, studying your reactions. When he kisses you, he does so earnestly, almost affectionate in contrast to the rhythm in which his dick drags inside you– but it's short, the need for oxygen overpowering both. At this point, not even your stilted whimpers and his soft moans can mask the lewd sound of your squelching pussy or the sporadic noise of skin slapping against skin.

"Good fuckin' slut," he locks your jaw in place, pushing you to keep eye contact with your own reflection. "Sneakin' behind your friend's back to get fucked by a stranger –shit– an 'old man', nonetheless..."

Your stomach tenses each time the head of his cock grazes that sensitive spot within you, legs shaking at the way he speaks to you. Through the mirror, you see the way his thumb digs into your cheek, his hand cupping your breast as he twists your nipple in his fingers and the worst of all: that haughty fucking smile that suited him perhaps too damn well.

"I always did like them older," you utter, out of breath.

He chuckles darkly, heftily, letting his hand coast down your abdomen and reach your clit to tease it while he takes you from behind. The feeling was so intense that all you could do was claw at his bicep and let a hushed whine slip past your lips, knowing that a second orgasm was approaching faster than you had expected.

"Fuck, Joel- It feels so good..." your moans are like music to his ears, a syrupy melody that he wants to maintain on replay.

The way your pussy clenches around him, squeezing his length with every push, has his head fuzzy with sheer pleasure. And god- you look beautiful coming undone for him. No; because of him. He sees you looking at him through the reflection, pupils dark with an obscure desire, feels your cunt soak him every time he tells you how good you are, with each sound he makes just for you.

"I'm so close-" you warn, white sparks blurring your vision at the building of your crescendo.

"C'mon, come for me," he purrs, skillfully teasing your nub. "Wanna feel it— oh fuck, wanna feel you live up to your promise..."

Joel fucking whimpers, nuzzling his face on the crook of your neck as he pulls your hips to meet his pace. The sound is so enticing that it throws you off, wanting to engrave it in your mind. Your thighs waver and your back arches, an overwhelming sense of euphoria partaking your body. "I've got you, let me hear you," he fucks you through it, slowing down but never losing precision. "Right there, you did so good..."

In your state of frenzy, you feel his cock throbbing inside you, his grip on your body tightening: the classic telltale of his own climax looming. Through it all, with your heart thumping so loud that it's almost deafening, you blurt out a dulcet: "Come in my mouth..."

God help him.

He nearly loses it right then and there.

"As you wish," he sighed, his deep voice raspy with passion.

But he's an indulgent man, so he musters up the strength to pull out and snatch the condom away, throwing it to the trash can. You fall to your knees with no hesitation, arms stretching to reach the outline of his hips. Joel guides the ruddy head of his cock to your lips, spreading precome all over them before you fully take him in your mouth. You suck him earnestly, focusing on the tip and tracing the vein on the underside of his dick. He's so worked up that it doesn't take him long to start panting; head thrown back and hand grabbing firmly the back of your neck.

Your gaze stick to his, knowing perfectly the power of looking into his eyes. You love the taste of him, musky and strong; all man. All you can think of right at this moment is how you want more, so much more of him.

"Perfect," he slurs through gritted teeth. "Perfect girl."

You can't contain the hum that reverberates through him, pushing him over the edge whilst you massage his balls. A deep, guttural groan claws its way from his throat, hips stuttering and thighs trembling as he comes in thick, hot spurts down your throat. You swallow instantly, not thinking much about it and stroking his shaft unhurriedly until he's whimpering from overstimulation; though he doesn't tell you to stop or pushes you away, letting you work him up to the time of your choice. Once you're content, you straighten your posture and rearrange your top, roughly registering when he tucks himself back in his pants.

"You okay?" he asks, helping you get on your feet. His thumb swipes around your lips and chin to clean the smeared lipstick, a sweet concern dithering in his eyes.

“Feelin’ great,” you say with genuine joy, pulling your skirt downwards and grabbing your panties from the floor, laying next to your jacket and his guitar. “Thank you.”

“I should be the one thanking you,” he lends you a hand in putting your jacket back on. “It’s been a while since I’ve… Uh, well, you get it.”

You turn to face him, beaming radiantly. Gosh, you’re stunning. He’s certain he won’t forget those mesmerizing eyes of yours.

“Joel, let’s be honest with each other…” your hands shot up to caress his cheek and thread at his curls. You don’t believe him one bit. “We’ll meet again. You know we will.”

You didn’t really mean it, merely wanting to make an impression. But there was a minuscule possibility that your paths would cross for a second time; after all, you did know his brother. Though you never mentioned that. Deep down, you were scared that he wouldn’t want to make a move if he knew of that connection— specially after seeing Tommy’s reaction when he saw that hat on your head.

“Hope that’s true, groupie.”

Joel insists on calling his chauffeur to take you home, arguing that it was past midnight and it was dangerous to take a cab. Eventually, you let him, making a quick stop to the bathroom to set things right with your appearance. He waits for you patiently, the cowboy hat presented to you as a gift when you walked out.

“Keep it,” he sways, “as a little souvenir for if we don’t end up meeting again. Besides, it suits you better.”

“Won’t you have another pretty girl to gift it to?” he rolls his eyes at your inquiry.

“I can always buy more,” he laughs. “I want you to remember I sent you home sore and aching each time you look at it.”

You giggle, getting on your tippy toes to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Don’t worry, Miller. I’ll be thinking ‘bout it… About you. That’s a promise.”

And he truly hopes you mean it.

#pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #joel miller #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x reader #joel miller tlou #joel miller the last of us #the last of us hbo #the last of us au #joel miller au #alternate universe #smut

304 notes · View notes

ohmyeyesmyeyes · 1 month

Text

IT'S NEVER OVER - PROLOGUE (sept. 2005)

summary: if anyone asked sid, he wouldn't say that he liked pittsburgh more after meeting nat. no, that would be absurd.

warnings: short and sweet! (none)

a/n: hi, hello! am i posting this without having finished it? yes. i don't know how long it's going to be but i'm slowly chipping away at it and i'm pretty excited about it. it might even be my favourite series thing i've done so far, and weirdly my first one? i've had the entire thing outlined for months but i've been too busy to even think about posting it, so...here you go! i can't promise posts for this will be regular because the chapters are so long, but i'll try my best to keep you posted! hope you enjoy (a series mastrlist will be out soon too so you can get the gist of where i'm at in the entire process) xo

sneak peak | pinterest board

(It started with music, but Nat didn’t know that.)

It was a total accident, a random encounter that Sidney couldn’t possibly have predicted – one that, without exaggerating, changed his life to an extent. On a whim, he’d decided to go into that coffee shop he’d walked past everyday for the past three weeks, and it was also on a whim he actually made it to the counter to order an uncharacteristic coffee – he was newly eighteen, being pulled in all sorts of sports-diet directions, the confinement of which kind of irked him, so to him, buying that coffee was a subtle rebellion.

It was also a complete accident that he’d wandered off to the right after taking his coffee from the counter, instead of left, or forwards, or even backwards.

Sidney wasn’t one to believe in fate or destiny: he believed those terms were too magical – they alluded to some other worldly forces coming into play, and he liked to stick to facts. Coincidences. Accidents. Nevertheless, he did find it almost inexplicable, the way that his life hurtled into a completely different route after a mere forty minutes inside a coffee shop that he’d just spontaneously decided to make a trip of. He couldn’t quite get his head around it all.

To him, it was a coincidence that he’d walked past her table. A coincidence that she happened to be blaring the only song he’d been able to listen to for the last four days. He’d barely made it three steps past her before he froze.

She was wearing those over-the-ear headphones, the ones with orange sponges from the 80s, plugged into the iPod that had come out a few years back. He recognised it because everyone that had one in his high school before he left never shut up about it. Sidney admittedly did own one at the time, but he never really felt the need to show it off – it was much easier than lugging around a cassette or CD player with songs burnt in.

The song still had him halting in his tracks and turning around, his body much further ahead than his brain because he had to steady his mug of coffee; his sharp actions had the liquid almost sloshing over the edge, but he managed to catch it just in time.

He wouldn’t have done either of those things: stop and turn, if it had been any other song he’d heard. He was just so taken aback by it – the exact, precise song.

The girl at the table didn’t pay him a single dime of attention when he froze, despite the fact that his hip was practically nudging her table. She wasn’t even looking in his direction, her eyes gazing out of the window on her right, skipping over empty faces as people walked past. It was clear she was supposed to be doing work of some sorts: there were textbooks, novels, and flashcards scattered across the entire table, a pencil case half emptied with pens strewn all over. She had a pen clutched in the fist she was resting her chin on, not caring for the study cards at all – entirely enamoured by the view.

Sidney followed her eyes. There wasn’t much to look at, just a street, and her chair was directly facing the side of a retail store, clothes and mannequins displayed in the window.

In hindsight, Sidney didn’t really know what compelled him to do what he did next.

He couldn’t tell if she was bored and just looking out, not paying attention to the music flowing into her ears, or if she was just so absorbed in what she was hearing that she couldn’t physically bring herself to think about her work – that she’d tuned out the outside world entirely.

What caught his attention the most was the crease between her brows. It drew him to look straight at her; an alluring combination of chestnut hair and pale eyes – though not too pale that they made him uneasy. She was also probably the only person in the establishment that was around his age.

She had impeccable music taste, if he did say so himself.

Yet, he couldn’t shake the inkling that this girl was wholly feeling the brilliance and soul-crushing heartache of Jeff Buckley’s genius – and he found himself hoping she was.

That was why he cleared his throat and took a small step to the other side of the table. He threw a quick glance over his shoulder, noting that the cafe was pretty busy, so he knew he could at least try to get away with what he was about to do.

He made sure to tilt his head up, because the hat covering his face would be nothing short of slightly suspicious in a public setting, and it wasn’t until he purposefully knocked into the chair that she flicked her eyes to look at him.

He held his breath, a moment when all they did was look at each other, until the crease in her brows disappeared and she reached to pause her music on her iPod, slowly sliding her earphones off so they rested around her neck.

“Hi.”

His assumptions had been correct. She was around his age – her voice was deeper than he’d originally anticipated – and when he found himself slightly closer than before, he was able to make out that she was studying for her SATs.

It was September.

“Hi.” He replied, forcing a smile that he hoped would convey the apology he felt for intruding on her personal time and in her personal space. Her clutter was all over the table, and he knew that if she was hopefully as kind to strangers as he hoped she’d to be, that it would be somewhat of a hassle to shove some of it away, “I’m really sorry, but there aren’t any other tables free. Would I be able to–”

“Oh, sure.” She interrupted, immediately going to reach to sweep a space clear for him over the other side of the table. Sidney watched with a mildly amused gaze; she didn’t seem to care for the way her flashcards seemed to mix themselves up, or the way her textbooks snapped shut and she lost her page.

She flashed him a welcoming, slightly embarrassed smile as she piled the books on top of each other, and before Sidney knew it, he was sitting in the chair opposite, accidentally knocking their knees together in the process, and sipping from his coffee mug. He fought to maintain the thankful smile on his face, despite the utterly bitter taste of the coffee that seemed to fester on his tongue.

No wonder he’d never tried coffee before, it tasted like dirt.

The girl broke a small chunk of a muffin off, a smile breaking out on her face as she fought a small laugh.

Sidney blushed, “I’m not a big coffee-fan.” He reasoned, shrugging.

“I can tell.” She pressed her lips together momentarily, looking down at the plate before turning her attention back to him. Sidney felt stunned at the colour of her eyes. He’d never seen grey eyes before, but hers seemed to balance more on the green side – only when the sun struck the side of her face, they turned a watery, clear blue. There was also a tinge of brown thrown in there.

What was that called? Heterochromia?

He felt his mouth dry, and before he could stop himself, he was taking another sip of his coffee, this time managing to control the urge to wince, “Thanks for letting me sit here.”

She shrugged, gathering the flashcards and lining them up, “It’s no problem. Sorry for the mess.”

He let his eyes wander over the books once more, the green ‘SATs’ letters jumping out at him, “You got an important date?”

The girl swallowed, not entirely understanding what he meant. That crease formed between her brows again, and she opened her mouth to question him, but Sidney beat her to it, a finger pointing at her stack of books.

She sighed, “Not entirely, they’re at the end of the school year, but one of my teachers gave us an assignment to get some study material done early.”

Sidney couldn’t say he understood her stress – it was something displayed across the planes of her face; evident when she looked rather tiredly at the stack of books, and hesitated at the flashcards, before throwing them to the side. She folded her arms across the table, then switched so that her hands were interlocked in front of her.

She looked as though she didn’t quite know what to do with herself, and Sidney couldn’t tell if it was because of the presence of a stranger, or if she was already feeling some sort of academic guilt for throwing her attention away from her studies for a couple of minutes.

He saw her jaw clench, and at that observation, the thought that maybe he was paying a little bit too much attention to her crossed his mind, so he turned his focus to the cup of coffee. He was beginning to feel its effects; his knee was shaking softly under the table and he could feel an influx of energy spark at his fingertips. Or maybe it wasn’t the coffee at all.

He hadn’t thought about hockey for five minutes.

He saw her turn her face towards him out of the corner of his eye, and he looked up, “What about you? Are you in school, or…?” She trailed off, her eyes skimming over the logo that had flashed itself from the safe and unzipped confines of his hoodie.

He felt his heart quicken at having been caught, worried that perhaps she’d shout out who he was – if she knew – across the entire cafe. He remained optimistic; she didn’t seem the type.

He cleared his throat, “Not anymore.” For some reason he hesitated. He could play off the logo as merchandise – he could be someone other than Sidney Crosby, the New Rookie of the Pens – or he could be honest. When he looked back at her, there was a challenge in her eyes, and Sidney knew then that she already knew who he was. “I just got drafted to the Pens for my first NHL season.”

She sighed, “Can I tell you something?”

Sidney furrowed his brows, his mouth tilting down in a smile. He was new to the whole ‘local celebrity’ deal, but this by far, is probably one of the least impressed reactions he’d ever had. She clearly knew he wasn’t in school, but had still taken the kind courtesy to ask him the question, despite the futility of it.

He nodded.

“I only know one Pens player.” Then she pointed to something out of the window, “That banner has been staring at me every week for the past three months.”

Sidney huffed a laugh, thinking she was joking, but followed her finger anyway. He was immediately faced with a street corner, tens of people walking past each other – he could even make out their voices if he concentrated hard enough, and it took a while to figure out what exactly she was pointing at, until his eyes settled on a billboard at least a block down.

He’d been told that for press reasons, the Pens had come up with the idea of a way of promoting him as a player, and a ‘person of Pittsburgh’, by plastering some action shots of him – still staged – around the city. He’d neglected to look up lately, fearing that if he did, he’d be faced with some images of himself, but he hadn’t escaped that entirely.

The billboard was small, and he wasn’t the only player on there, either, but he saw it nonetheless.

When he spun back around to look at her once more, the only thing that came out of his mouth was, “There’s two other players, not just me.”

She shrugged, “I was talking about Sergei Gonchar.”

Sidney felt the blush colour from his chest to his cheeks as he slowly put his hands over his face, consumed by humiliation. He felt himself smile into his hands when he heard the girl huff a snicker. He’d had quite a few people as of late kissing up to his ego, and apart from his teammates, she was the first one to really deliver a considerable blow – and he was thankful for that; that at least someone still had the ability to look past who he was and tease him like he was a normal person. He was aware of the irony that lay there.

He gathered himself, unabashedly removing his hands and displaying the creeping blush for her to see, and sticking his hand between them, “Sidney Crosby, rookie center for the Pittsburgh Penguins.”

She rolled her eyes, not commenting on the state of his cheeks, her smile fading slightly but still remaining, “I was joking, I know who you are.” She took his hand in hers, gripping it tightly, “Nat Brooks. Student.”

Sidney swallowed, his blush remaining for other reasons, and pulled his hand away, flexing it under the table, “Is Nat short for anything?”

“Natalia.”

“‘S very pretty.” He mumbled, and she smiled sweetly.

“Sidney’s very pretty, too. It suits you.”

Something clenched in his chest.

#sidney crosby x oc #sidney crosby fic #it's never over prologue #nhl fic #nhl series #sidney crosby imagine #sidney crosby oneshot #sidney crosby x reader

65 notes · View notes

ein-shtink · 3 months

Text

Sometimes I think about the fact we’re neighbors. There are more things that bring me and a Palestinian woman living in Gaza together than things bringing us apart.

We grew up watching the same sunsets, the same sunrises. If there were no borders, it would take about an hour for us to go and visit one another. We grew up listening to the same music. Our parents did, too.

Our grandparents read poetry in the same language, watched the same Egyptian movies. The foods are similar, the hobbies are, too. When I was in high school I met a girl my age, who grew up in Gaza but relocated with her family to an Arab village within Israel, a five minute drive from where I used to live. We made movies together. We joked a lot. We were one and the same, more often than not.

I can’t stop thinking about the Palestinians in Gaza. I can’t stop thinking about the horrors they endure. I can’t stop thinking about Palestinian men, women and children, having to fight for food. For hygiene products. For water. I can’t stop thinking about them having no time to hide before a bomb hits, about them not being allowed to evacuate. I can’t stop thinking about the ones who died protesting for a better life, long before this war started. They are my neighbors. We watch the same sunsets.

I can’t stop thinking about the hostages, either. I can’t stop thinking about the desecrated bodies of innocent women paraded around Gaza’s streets. I can’t stop thinking about the sisters who were raped and murdered together, aged 13 and 16. The older one was my sister’s friend. I can’t stop thinking about Shlomo Ron, the art-loving 80 year old man who sacrificed his own life to save his wife and grandchildren. He looks just like my grandpa. I can’t stop thinking about Thomas Hand, who was told his little girl was dead and cried tears of joy, because being dead is better than being taken hostage. I can’t stop thinking about the fact Emily Hand didn’t die, and actually was taken hostage. Ever since she was released, she only whispers, too afraid to speak up.

I can’t stop thinking about the suffering. About the loss. About the mothers on both sides of their border who had to watch their children die. About the pain.

Their faces haunt me.

I don’t understand why the West is calling for a ceasefire when they should be calling for peace. I don’t understand why the West is calling for the destruction of Israel when they should be calling for a solution that will allow both people to live side by side, in peace. I don’t understand why the existence of Israel is a bad thing. I don’t understand why the West refuses to call out Hamas, for the crimes of October 7th and their gross mistreatment and neglectful leadership of the Palestinian people ever since they rose to power. I don’t understand why the West views this decades old conflict through a one sided lens, amplifying the voice of one people’s crying and shutting down the other’s.

We deserve better. Palestinians and Israelis deserve better. We deserve to prosper, we deserve to live long and proud of our heritages in the land we both call home.

Maybe one day nations around the world and our own corrupt leaders will stop making us paint one another as the enemy. Israelis and Palestinians, we’re not each other’s enemies. We’re each other’s neighbors.

We deserve to let our children play.

#israel #palestine #gaza #i/p war #I don’t know. just had to let it all out #I’m sad and I’m angry and I’m frustrated and I’m so fucking scared #I just want this war to be over already #am yisrael chai #non Palestinians/israelis can rb but as I mentioned before idc about your opinions on the matter

64 notes · View notes

lemoncrushh · 1 month

Text

The Entertainer II - COMING SOON

Summary: What if it wasn't the end? What if Sky did actually see Harry at the Forum in the early 80s, and he saw her too? What if fate took hold of them both, and they realized their journey was not over? Set in 1981, Harry and Sky's story continues with more music, more romance, and a few more twists and turns.

Author's Note: This was originally going to just be a few chapters, like "bonus tracks", but it ended up being a full fic, even longer than the original. Hard to let these characters go; they're such a part of me now. As always, you must be 18+ to read. This fic will contain lots of sex.

COMING SOON

Updates will be weekly, Mondays at 4:00PM CST.

Please let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist.

Read The Entertainer

Sneak Peek:

Who was I kidding? It couldn’t be him. He was probably overseas in London or some exotic place I’d never heard of. I’d learned that Wildfire broke up earlier that year, so most likely he was resting somewhere - anywhere but Los Angeles. Still…

One more sneaky look out of the corner of my eye, but someone was blocking my view. With a sigh, I listened to Steve finish the song before the band gave their fake goodbyes, and I waited with the rest of the crowd for their encore.

The audience went wild during Journey’s last two songs, and their enthusiasm returned my focus to the reason I’d come. By the time the lights came on in the arena, I’d just about forgotten about him, or whomever the mystery man had been.

That is, until I turned the corner in the hallway after leaving the restroom.

“Sky?”

The sound of my nickname in a crowd full of strangers was odd enough, but the familiar voice threw me for a loop and back in time five years. Turning slowly, I wondered if my mind was playing tricks on me again, but when his handsome face came into view, my thoughts were confirmed.

It was him. And he was standing right in front of me.

tagging: @daphnesutton, @fkinavocado

34 notes · View notes

raisedbythetv89 · 2 months

Text

I hate all of this “well he was Buffy’s first love!” talk when discussing how much pain and devastation Angel caused in Buffy’s life as if for women our first loves MUST be horrible and painful always???? As if it was unavoidable anyway so let’s not be too critical of him.

First off, HE LITERALLY WASNT EVEN HER FIRST LOVE

The show acknowledges what happens in the movie so canonically what happened in the movie happened to tv show Buffy INCLUDING HER RELATIONSHIP. ANGEL WAS NOT HER FIRST LOVE.

Angel was just the first guy who stalked and targeted Buffy when she was at her most vulnerable and continued to constantly lie and manipulate her for his own selfish gains only to toss her aside once she no longer served her original purpose while continuing to lead her on and show up in her life every time she tried to move on and THAT is why it was so painful!!!

STOP NORMALIZING THE PAIN CAUSED BY ABUSE AND MANIPULATION AS THE SAME THING AS REGULAR HEARTBREAK IN NORMAL RELATIONSHIPS.

I did not have a good childhood, my parents had a horrible divorce when I was 7 and I had never seen a healthy relationship modeled IN MY LIFE - AND YET - my first serious relationship when I was 16 while it definitely had it problems like all young love does (his friends didn’t like how much time he spent with me and his mom both hated me for “taking her son away” but also loved me because she wanted a daughter so badly but only had sons - she was insane lol and we were both teenagers who made stupid teenager mistakes) he was with me for 3 1/2 years and absolutely would have married me if that was what I had wanted.

He would sneak out to see me when I was sad despite his strict parents, always bought me lunch because I would eat what I was sent to school with by 10 AM because I was STARVING because I had an almond mom who never fed either of us enough. Would happily listen to me rant about the twilight books as I read them during that whole phase, WROTE ME A SONG for my birthday (he was actually a talented musician and works as a sound engineer and music producer now) and basically just spent every second he could either with me or talking to me when we were apart. He loved taking me on dates and writing me love notes and we just laughed all the time. He was my best friend as well as my boyfriend and ending that relationship because I had outgrown him was SO PAINFUL because he loved me so much and even during the break up - which I handled HORRIBLY - he was kind and even gave me the birthday present he had bought me because he wanted me to have it even though it was still months away. (I say all of this to try and just show first loves CAN be more than just pain and devastation and if it isn’t making you happy a minimum 80% of the time and you instead just feel sad and confused THAT IS NOT NORMAL AND YOU DESERVE BETTER 🩷)

I know good experiences are not the case for everyone when it comes to first relationships and that’s awful and is not fair because young love SHOULD be innocent and naive. Just two idiots in love who have no clue what they’re doing but just happy to be around each other no matter what they’re doing (like what willow got to experience with Oz in high school) and Angel robbed Buffy of those experiences. He broke her trust of other people and in love and her trust in HERSELF - that’s not her “first love” that’s her first abusive relationship and calling it “her first love” or worse “her soulmate” only serves the patriarchy and harms little girls everywhere who grow up not knowing to look for or expect better because everyone around them and society is telling them “your first experiences with love and sex will be awful and painful and there’s no escaping it” when that is just NOT TRUE at all, especially if you date someone age appropriate in high school. Angel is the first older “man” she dated and like all older men with high school girls do, he took advantage of that imbalance in power in literally every way possible and I will despise that whiney little bitch until the end of time for that and wish he would have just stayed trapped in that hell dimension until the end of time as it is what he deserves.

“True love” doesn’t require severe pain and tears for it to be deep or meaningful. Don’t believe the lies terrible men like jw and so many others feed us.

#fuck joss whedon #fuck the patriarchy #fuck misogyny #buffy summers girl you deserved better 🖤#anti angel #anti bangel #spuffy #btvs meta

37 notes · View notes

notyouraryang0dd3ss · 1 month

Note

Having a #1 Song doesn't mean SHIT anymore! It doesn't mean the song is a hit.

Let's be so serious rn. Nobody knows any of her damn fault track that keep charting. I asked my mom to name one song of hers and she could name "Shake it off."

Smooth Criminal went #7 in the US.

Remember the Time went #3 in the US.

Heal the World went #27 in the US.

They don't care about us #30 in the US. But it still went viral on tiktok. A song that is almost 30 years old!!

Thriller the song also never went to number one, but ask people to name one Halloween song they gonna name that song.

And what is more impressive, having 1M EAS the first day or still selling 1M EAS 15 years after your passed and more than 20 years after you dropped an album. Longevity is quality. 1M first day sales she's gonna sell that much for years. Hell, she be lucky if she even sold 50k in a year in 30 years.

5 music videos of his that are made in the 80's and 90's are about to have 1 billion views this year.

Billie Jean still gets 1M daily streams on Spotify.

I'm sorry if you aren't an Mjfan and I bring him up but he's the best example I can give you also because Swifties keep comparing her to him.

If people don't like the song they won't keep listening to it. And if Taylors song just stay in her fanbase and they just massstream her shit. Nobody is gonna know this song in 20 years.

Because what is the last hit Taylor Swift had that was known to the general public? Anti Hero maybe? Cruel Summer?

And something that is also funny is that, Remember when her drunk self got on stage and snatched the grammy from Celine Dion and didn't even look at her.

And people were pissed and her team was quick on working getting a picture with her to mend the damage.

Celine Dion has 5 Grammys and Taylor Swift has 14.

But they knew that Celine Dion got more respect from the GP then Taylor will ever have. And that is something you cannot buy. And they know if someone wins out of pure talent or just because of favourism. And let's be real. Most people know these award shows are rigged and they don't care about it.

Like when RollingStone came out with that fuck ass best singers list that put Taylor at #102 and excluded Celine Dion. People were mad that Celine was included but Taylor was.

Or just recently they also called her the better Adele. Nobody from the GP was like oh yeah that is true.

I mean they can try to name her the Queen of Pop in one of the award shows alà Michael Jackson style, but it's not gonna work with her. When he got that name people actually agreed and they still do. Outside Taylors cult nobody will agree with that.

Taylor's Team is aggressive with the Marketing and pushing these numbers onto us because they know outside of it she has nothing to offer. Her talent isn't marketable. Her singing and dancing isn't that impressive. The most marketable things about her career are her wealth and business success. Have they ever talked about her performance while she is on tour. What is so impressive what she does on stage? No they just keep talking about the money she makes.

No I completely get why MJ is a relevant comparison here. Swifties do keep comparing TS to him and for that alone they need to collectively get their asses beat. But you used good examples and I just want to applaud you for that

& you’re right, I can’t name a single vault track. Every time I’m exposed to her its against my will through my recommended (and its usually so out of place too because i watch really weird video essays).

Charts truly don’t reflect cultural impact because Drunk in Love by Beyoncé never went #1 and neither did Toxic by Britney Spears but both are super well known. Anti Hero is probably the last single to go #1 but I genuinely felt harassed by that song 😭 its sooooooooo bad

Yes! The vocal trinity—Celine Dion, Mariah Carey, and Whitney Houston—have done SO MUCH for music and all have less than half of Taylor Swift’s amount of Grammys. Celine and Mariah each have 5 and Whitney has 6.

I didn’t watch the Grammys this year (forgot to) but I heard about the Celine Dion incident I was SHOCKED because the audacity of this woman! Her entitlement shows in everything she does and she’s really starting to believe her commercial success makes her a better artist.

THE ROLLING STONE LIST WAS BULLSHIT. THEY DIDN’T INCLUDE JENNIFER HUDSON EITHER! Their definition of a “singer” was soooooooo bullshit too like that magazine’s merit has gone down so much in the past 20 years it should be regarded with way less status and credibility. And who tf called TS better than ADELE?

You’re right, her moniker will be chosen by the general public (probably from a viral tweet/tiktok/etc).

And she needs aggressive marketing because she really is a below average musician in all respects! She has her songwriting but she should’ve just been a hit songwriter (like Estelle Dean) not a singer. What makes her marketable is very “ordinary” image—which makes her relatable to “every girl, like me and you” 🙄 her soft voice really creates an intimate atmosphere especially with her vulnerable (but superficial) lyrics. She has to be friends with her fans for her success to work. Because there is no way you can justify her being regarded as a “god” the way people do with Beyoncé and MJ otherwise.

🎯 with the Eras Tour coverage. No one ever references or cites a particular jaw dropping vocal performance or dance number. It’s always the amount of wealth she’s generating.

#ask #anon #anti taylor swift #mj #beyoncé #celine dion #artist comparison #eras tour #notyouraryang0dd3ss #mariah carey #whitney houston

19 notes · View notes

dailyunstableeve · 4 months

Text

I’ve been non-stop listening to this song, Natalie by Mckenna Grace. I couldn’t help it but to think this song is my Spidersona, Eve and Miguel.

I wish I could draw it out but my talent in art is limited so I thought maybe it would be nice if I just used words to visualize it.

You can listen to it while reading it too 💕

°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .

She's got something about her

It's easy when you're around her

Miguel is used to working solo like any spiderman would, after the spider society is founded, he’s mostly with Jess. Since Jess is pregnant, Miguel would secretly look after Jess. Eve joined the group and Miguel would find his job of capturing anomalies a lot easier than before. As in dropping the idea of constantly getting worried at Jess because Miguel and Eve would get it done most of the time.

A big smile and dark eyes you get lost in

Eve is a cheerful person, she’s a big sister to everyone or a mom figure for everyone, because of her ability to look after people, like how she cares for Miguel. Eve basically cares about everyone more than herself.

Eve and Miguel would hang out from time to time, Eve is always there to try to crack a few smiles or laugh from Miguel but Miguel is mostly in his serious mode. But little does that Eve doesn’t know, Miguel loves watching Eve smile, holding onto eye contact as she was talking to him.

She's the first on the dancefloor

Eve is an 80% extrovert, she will never be able to resist the temptation of music and always dance along with it.

Small Flashback from the Christmas fic (You can find it in the Masterlist), Miguel gifted her a vinyl of classic music and she loves dancing with it.

Watch her laugh, the kind you would fall for

This will be the same explanation of “A big smile and dark eyes you get lost in”

She'll always be there when you're calling

She'll hold your hand in the crowd (Ahh)

Miguel often would have nightmares about what happened in Gabi’s Universe, that he will keep on working and working until he thinks he did enough (he never did). When it comes to night that he couldn’t sleep, Eve would accompany him, she would sit in the office together with Miguel as he continued the work.

The kinda girl you'd write a song about

Or, write a poem about (They had a poem bet before)

Natalie

You move as natural as the breeze

Every sentence that you speak has a hold

Her flexibilities, her ideas of fixing problems, all learned from F.E.A.S.T. Which brought her a huge advantage when it comes to keeping everyone on check.

Oh, Natalie

You're as wild as the sea

Could you teach me how to be so beautiful?

Miguel believes he’s a monster, sometimes he wishes to be like Eve, that everyone in the Society adores Eve while Miguel is just a boss to them.

I'd like to know

Natalie

She's always fun at parties

Walks in looking so carefree

She shines and I feel a little lighter

‘Parties’ take it as the band show she’ll be in every weekend with Hobie, Gwen, Miles and Pav. Eve would never know that Miguel actually watches her show every time. At start Miguel is just watching from his office then he starts to appear in Hobie’s universe just to watch the band show.

Miguel loves to watch how Eve just spreads her wings and sings out her best, it does give him a slight relaxation of how he doesn’t need to be so strict to everythings.

Brown hair right past her shoulders

Confidence that makes her seem older

Eve has brown hair, except she dyed it to red (since Red is her favorite color). Miguel and Eve have an age gap of around 8-9 years (I heard Miguel is around his age around 30 while Eve is 23 by the time she joined the society) Sometimes, Miguel would forget about Eve’s age due to how she handles the situation no matter how bad it is.

I wish I was a little like her

She'll hold your hand in the crowd (Ahh)

The kinda girl you'd write a song about

Natalie

You move as natural as the breeze

Every sentence that you speak has a hold

Oh, Natalie

You're as wild as the sea

Could you teach me how to be so beautiful?

I'd like to know

Natalie

(Oh, oh-oh-oh, oh)

Natalie

Feel like the moon watching the sun

Miguel is like the moon, and also he is a crazy workaholic at night. And the moon is only able to shine because of the sun. He thinks that with Eve around, he could do so much better, turning the society into a better place

So many stars but she's the one

That everybody needs

Out of every Spiderman he recruited, Miguel believes Eve is the one (no hate towards other spiderman, spiderwoman and spidersona, I love all of them)

(Oh, oh, oh)

I'd like to be like that for once

How does it feel to be so loved?

Could you show me how to be?

After losing Gabi, Miguel basically told himself that he doesn’t deserve anything anymore until Eve appears. Eve showed Miguel that it’s okay to embrace the mistake and learn to fix it, she showed him warmth and he wishes to return that favor too.

Natalie

You move as natural as the breeze

Every sentence that you speak has a hold

Oh, Natalie

You're as wild as the sea

Could you teach me how to be so beautiful?

I'd like to know

Natalie

(Oh, oh-oh-oh, oh)

Natalie

°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .

a/n: this is mostly of how Miguel viewed my Spidersona and I've been urging to write about it for so long because the song is so beautiful 😭😭😭

Masterlist

22 notes · View notes

thislovintime · 7 months

Text

Head premiered on November 6, 1968. (Edit featuring the two Tork songs - in the studio and demo versions, respectively - and a line from the movie.)

“What’s happening as time goes on is that the movie [Head] is becoming a chronicle of an age. At the time, it was just a chronicle of the Monkees.” - Peter Tork, The Monkees Tale (1985) Q: “What do you think of the music from the film ‘Head’?” Peter Tork: "Well, since I wrote and produced two of the songs myself, I think it’s fine. I did ‘Can You Dig It?’ And ‘[Long Title:] Do I Have To Do This All Over Again.’” - Goldmine, 1982 “The funny thing is that the lyrics [to ‘Long Title: Do I Have To Do This All Over Again?’] came to me right out of the air. I was just playing those chord changes on the guitar, and I opened my mouth and that’s what popped out. The song was weirdly prophetic. I had no idea that was going to be my attitude about anything having to do with music when I wrote that song." - Peter Tork, Listen To The Band liner notes (more about "Long Title..." here) “‘Can You Dig It’ is about the Tao. The hook line I wrote in my dressing room on the set [of the television series in 1967]. The chords for the chorus I’d written in college, and [they] had just stuck with me.” - Peter Tork, Head box set liner notes (more about "Can You Dig It?" here) "I think they're ['Can You Dig It?' and 'Long Title...'] the best songs in the movie [Head]. I love both of them. I thought they were just terrific. He had plugged himself into that whole Stephen Stills connection and was working with those guys. I think they fit the movie better than anything did. When those two songs start up in the movie, it comes alive for me.” - Michael Nesmith, Head box set liner notes “Thorkelson expressed a preference for the Monkees’ ‘Headquarters’ album, because it was the group’s first self-performed album […]. The soundtrack to the [...] movie ‘Head’ also is among Thorkelson’s favorites. ‘It was a little tinny, but back then I guess we were a little tinny,’ he said. ‘That movie will always look good,’ commented Thorkelson.” - The Bowling Green News Revue, May 24, 1979 "'When we made Headquarters, I thought I'd died and gone to heaven,' says Tork. 'My whole goal had been to be a member of a band that worked. The next thing I know we're making a movie and it doesn't have anything to do with the business of being in a band together.' [...] 'There's some weight behind the idea that Bob and Bert wanted to wreck the Monkees, to stop it cold in its tracks,' says Tork. 'I've never known for sure. Bert and Bob might have thought out loud: "Let's kill the Monkees!" Or they may have not thought so out loud but at some unconscious level, they were sick of the Monkees and wanted to do something else.' [...] 'It was a joy seeing a movie being made, but I didn't like working for Bob Rafelson,' Tork says. 'I did what he told me, but I can't say that I ever had any heart connection with him.' His favorite scene, in which he recounts what he has learned from an Indian mystic, was actually directed by Nicholson. [...] Tork has seen Head around 80 times but it took him years to work out why it bothered him so much. In the movie, the Monkees are hoodwinked, bamboozled, chased, assaulted, mocked, trapped in a black box and reduced to dandruff in the hair of actor Victor Mature, before ending up back where they started. In the words of the sardonic Nicholson-penned theme tune, 'So make your choice and we'll rejoice/ In never being free.' 'Most people are dazzled by the psychedelia, and that's fine, but for me finally the point of the movie is the Monkees never get out,' Tork says sadly. 'Which is to say Bob Rafelson's view of life is you never get out of the black box you're in. There's no escape.' So how would a Peter Tork cut of Head end? 'There might have been a scene where we get out,' he says wistfully. 'We jump in the water and get away.'" - The Guardian, April 28, 2011

#Peter Tork #Tork quotes #Davy Jones #Micky Dolenz #Michael Nesmith #The Monkees #Monkees #Head (1968)#long read #<3 #Tork songs #Can You Dig It #Long Title: Do I Have To Do This All Over Again?#Bob Rafelson #Bert Schneider #et al #can you queue it

50 notes · View notes

one-vivid-judgment · 11 days

Text

Remember when I said I was gonna dice into the differences between the Eng and Spanish subs of Infinite Wealth?

WELL WAKE UP BABE, IT'S TIME FOR 'Vicky analyzes language differences'!!

Believe me when I say I would've loved to start this by dwelling on character interactions and whatnot, but as it turns out, that is a VERY time-consuming task and I'm still working on it (can you believe the Eiji-Kasuga interactions in chapter 2 ALONE take up 25 Word pages? Between Spanish subs-English translation of Spanish subs-English subs? Yeah, crazy). So, for now, let's focus on something else!

The chapter titles

As we all know by now, the English names of the chapters are all based on Elvis songs. In previous RGG games (and by that I mean the ones who actually have Spanish versions: LAD, Judgment and LJ), the chapter titles were all direct translations of their English counterparts. However, this doesn't happen in IW for the reason listed above; the meaning would pretty much be diluted, even if many Spanish speakers DO know about Elvis and have listened to his music. So, what did they do for the Spanish version:

Simple! Change the titles to Spanish songs (oldies, mostly) who convey a similar meaning. Or, as we'll see with chapter 1, a radically opposite meaning to the original, but which highlights a different side of the chapter itself/the characters personalities.

This would be a PRETTY long post if I talked about every chapter here. So, for now, let's focus on just one per post, yeah? Starting up...

In English: Doin’ the best I can

In Spanish: Voy a pasármelo bien (I’m gonna have some fun)

The songs chosen are pretty much opposites in terms of... everything, really.

In the English version, we have a very mellow Elvis song. It’s more about heartbreak than anything else, which is pretty fitting when you think about what happens in the chapter. Ichiban is living the life, with a stable job and carrying on Arakawa’s legacy (Doin' the best he can), he scores a date with Saeko and they have fun. It all comes crashing down afterwards though: Saeko rejects him then ghosts him for a year, he is exposed by the Tatara Channel and loses his job, and he goes from being ‘the hero of Yokohama’ to being at rock bottom again. At some point, after being fired, Ichiban says “Everything is back to how it used to be.” He tried his best, but it wasn’t enough (“I’ll be a dreamer, I’ll be a fool”, “Doin’ the best I can but it’s not good enough for you”).

Overall, the vibe of it is more about what goes wrong rather than the good things that happen.

Then there is the Spanish version picking a very hype song from Hombres G, a band that was very popular here in the 80s (they are still active, if anyone is interested, and they have many iconic songs under their belts. We still quote "Sufre, mamón" ('Suffer, asshole') to this day where I'm from).

The vibe is the complete opposite:

Hoy me he levantado dando un salto mortal

Echado un par de huevos a mi sartén

Dando volteretas he llegado al baño

Me he duchado y he despilfarrado el gel

Porque hoy algo me dice

Que voy a pasármelo bien

(Today I woke up doing somersaults / threw a couple eggs in my pan / doing cartwheels I made it to the bathroom / I showered and wasted the shower gel / Cause today something tells me / that I’m gonna have some fun)

Sé que tengo algunos enemigos

Pero esta noche no podrán contar conmigo

Porque voy a convertirme en hombre lobo

Me he jurado a mí mismo que no dormiré solo

(I know I have some enemies / But tonight they can count me out / Cause I’m gonna turn into a werewolf / I swore to myself I won’t be sleeping alone)

Voy a cogerme un pedo'e los que hacen afición

Me iré arrastrando a casa con la sonrisa puesta

Mañana ya, si puedo, dormiré la siesta

Pero esta noche no, esta noche no

(I’m gonna get shit-faced like never before / I’ll drag myself back home with a smile still on / Tomorrow, if I can, I’ll take a nap / But not tonight, not tonight)

So yes, this song is all about the positive vibes before it all comes crashing down. Even so, after things do go sideways, Kasuga is still smiling and not letting it get to him (at most, he feels like shit because he dragged Adachi and Nanba down with him). The song goes very well, not only with the ‘happy’ part of the chapter, but also with Kasuga’s personality in general. Especially the “I know I have some enemies, but they can count me out.” Cause boy does Kasuga have enemies after the Tatara exposé. And even after all that, what he is worried about is how his actions affect other people, his vibes are that pure.

Overall, I would say that, although the vibes are completely different, it works as a sort of contrast. English goes for the ‘downfall’ and the sensation of failing even after trying your best not to, which is was Kasuga was trying to do employing former yakuza through Hello Work; meanwhile, Spanish chooses to go for a more light-hearted, slightly unserious tone that just so happens to perfectly match Kasuga’s personality and how he chooses to see the good side of things despite being back at rock bottom.

#ryu ga gotoku #like a dragon infinite wealth #lad infinite wealth #yakuza 8 #.txt #media analysis #yakuza series #infinite wealth

10 notes · View notes

winters0689 · 2 months

Text

Stefano Valentini Headcanons!!!!

Note: The Photo refers to the photo of the soldier dying that also happened when he lost his eye.

He has always had a love for photography. When he got his first camera, he took pictures of anything that he saw. Experimenting with it and learned to become a professional at using a camera

He has always worn gloves, but after he returned from war he began wearing them because his hands were slightly scarred. He hated how people would stare at them so he began wearing them.

He cut his hair when he went to war and began to immediately grow it back when he lost his eye. He wore a patch at first because people would just stare, but once his hair grew long he stopped wearing a patch and let his hair cover the scar.

After the war, for his first weeks back he was in a depressive state. It wasn’t until he saw The Photo that his passion was reignited

He has the original printout of The Photo on him at all times. He looks at it from time to time

As much as he loves The Photo, he can’t bring himself to remember the details leading up to it. He begins to panic and his eye begins to ache more than usual.

While not an expert, he knows how to use basic firearms and how to use a first aid kit. He prefers using a knife because he loves being up and personal with his art

He and Emily were friends and just that. He didn’t have a crush on her or anything, he just considered her beautiful, which is why he became her photographer

Stefano has never dated anyone. He is passionate about his art and while he finds people beautiful, he would rather focus on his art than be in a relationship with someone

His favorite colors are red, blue, and black

He owned a fish for two years. He grew attached to it and still has a photo of his pet fish to this day (he named it ‘Fish’ because he didn’t think he would get attached to it but he did and the name stuck around)

Even though he is a murderer, he hates getting blood on him, which is why he is always clean whenever he kills. He makes sure that his clothes don’t get stained

He acts all classy and eats fancy foods, but every so often he will teleport and grab a random greasy cheeseburger

Besides Classical Music, his other music tastes are Jazz and 80s Disco

He isn’t really a people’s person. He only likes being around certain people and prefers to focus on his art instead

He suffers from horrible headaches that sometimes makes him not able to be around bright light. That’s why his domain has some dark areas, so that he can stay there until his headache ceases

When he was younger, he had wavy hair, but after cutting it one time it became straight

He was often mistaken as being emo. He told anyone who commented on his hair that he didn’t know what ‘emo’ was but he actually did research and listened to some ‘emo’ songs. He didn’t like it, but he does know some emo bands, but whenever asks he pretends like he has never heard about the bands before

His natural hair color is a light brown but he dyed it black

I have many more headcanons about him but then this post would be endless. He’s such a fascinating character.

#the evil within 2 #the evil within #stefano valentini #headcanons

16 notes · View notes

broken-clover · 8 months

Text

16- Halfway There

Not sure why I put this prompt in here, it was hard! Hence why this took me so long. Here I tried to focus a lot on sensations, despite not having been to a concert in a while the post-show high still sticks with me. I thought it'd be fun to combine some of that with Sol and Axl since they seem the type to be familiar with it.

“How much longer ‘s it gonna be, chief?”

The motor beneath them rumbled, muffling out any actual grumbling that may have been happening elsewhere. “Five minutes after the last time you asked.”

“Which was…?”

He sighed in frustration, loud enough that it was audible over the vehicle itself and the wind whipping by. “We’re ‘bout halfway, give or take. Another hour and a half, probably.”

“Huh. Damn. Didn’t seem that far on the way out.”

“Going to that show was your idea, y’know.”

“Hey, show was good!” Axl shrugged innocently. “Commute’s shit, but the show was good.”

Sol gripped the Firewheel’s handlebars tighter in a desperate attempt to avoid smashing his passenger’s head in. Even if he really deserved it. He heard the man yawn, and, despite not being tired himself, copied the gesture.

“...Guess it was a decent show.” Despite being a music guy, it had been a long time since he’d gone to a live show. Post-apocalyptic bands didn’t hold a candle to the classics, but Sol would admit he missed the simple act of rocking out in a crowd to ear-bursting guitar and drinking a shitton of crappy beer something fierce. Plus, Axl had paid for the tickets, so it wasn’t like it had been a waste of his own money.

A cool spot of wind filled his lungs as he breathed in, and he paused to toss his head back to loosen any stray hair pinned against his collar. The trailing ends of his limiter and the long strands of his ponytail flapped behind like a thin flag. Driving in the dark on a quiet stretch; he’d missed that too.

He momentarily checked the sidecar. Axl had made himself more than comfortable, slouching back into the seat until his knees were almost higher than his head. One arm hung over the edge, fingers spread to feel the air go by.

“Just make sure you’re belted in. Don’t wanna hit a bump in the road and have you go flying out at 80 miles an hour on the highway.”

Axl yawned again. “Dunno ‘bout you Yanks and your weird measurements, but tha’ sounds pretty fast.”

“Yeah. It is. So don’t do it, unless you’re excited to burn most of your skin off on the asphalt.”

“Ew. Nah, pass.” He scooted up until he could prop his chin atop his arms draped along the edge of the car. “Man, it’s kinda nice out.”

“‘s fine if you wanna sleep the rest of the way.”

“Y’don’t mind?”

“Nah. Still a ways to go.” Sol shot him a dirty half-smirk. “Saves me from having to listen to you talk, too.”

Axl gave his sleeve a playful smack. “Piss off, mate, you’re a century old and ya still need driving tips!”

“I’m not taking driving advice from someone who drives on the wrong side of the road.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Mr. Imperial Measuring System. B’sides, we still have better tea.”

“Tea is shit,” Sol shrugged. “Why d’ya think we chucked it in the harbor?”

“Ugh, like five hundred years and you’re still on that?” Replied Axl, rolling his eyes. “...Look, gonna be honest, I did get stranded around there one time. Didn’t realize what I was doing until after the fact. Actually kinda fun. Like trashin’ a hotel room, ‘cept it smelled nicer.”

The driver gave him an odd look. “Bullshit. You’re drunk.”

“Prolly.” Yawning again, he burrowed into the warm bend of his arms. “We almost there, chief?”

“Only been five minutes since the last time you asked. Which was five minutes before the time before that.”

He waited for a response. He didn’t get one. When he could spare a look away from the road, Axl had already conked out, long hair trailing behind in the breeze like a comet-tail.

“...Figures,” he grunted, pressing harder against the gas. “Was actually havin’ fun for a second.”

#frog writes #comfortober #guilty gear #sol badguy #axl low

25 notes · View notes

turkfra · 7 months

Note

Do you have any pink genre recs in terms of music? I want to get more into the genre.

-Hypermobile Françoise anon

hello!!! do you have any idea how hard this is for me to answer. i love rambling and being pedantic and going off on tangents. almost as much as i love punk music...

tl;dr i compiled a playlist for you, containing 3 songs from (most of) the bands mentioned below, plus a few extra from miscellanious artists bc 54 is my lucky number. it was hard to choose just 3 from some of my faves but i feel like this is a good introduction. long post to follow <3

instead of simply giving you a list and sending you on your merry way, i am absolutely going to spout off bc thats what i do and ur gonna regret asking. do you think you were gonna get off that easy? you absolute fool. sit ur ass down ur about to get schooled.

disclaimer; this isn't exhaustive. i'm not rattling off every single punk artist that's ever existed. just a few of my favorites.

the clash, the quintessential punk band in my opinion. defined the genre and embodied the political ethos. explored different subgenres througout their expansive discography. they were probably my first introduction to music as a whole since they're my dad's favorite band. i may be biased but i'd definitely say start with the clash. i'd recommend listening to their third album, london calling, first.

the pogues - the folk punk band of all time. NOT folk-punk like some smelly white man with dreadlocks screaming over poorly-tuned guitar. you'll know exactly what i mean when you hear it. they have a unique sound that just can't be replicated. and shane macgowan is actually such a beautiful person. their lyrics are also politically tinged, kinda gritty and edgy (i.e. gratuitous slurs) so not for senstive ears.

(i actually have a playlist of my fave pogues/shane macgowan songs)

the cure, in my opinion, invented goth or at least popularized it. their earlier stuff had more of a punk sound but every one of their albums is a perfect 10 to me. they're one of my favorite bands of all time and i could go on about them for hours so i'll leave it there. joy division, also more goth/post-punk but i love them, i have one of their album covers tattooed on my forearm lmao 19 year old decisions. no regrets (i also love the smiths, but they're not really punk punk.)

before you ask, no sex pistols!!! don't get me started on how much i hate the sex pistols i will throw up! god they suck. to me at least.

a lot of punks also listen to ska - no, not that kind of ska. 70/80s ska that originated from rocksteady/reggae. some of my faves in that arena being madness, the specials, bad manners, and the beat.

and as for across the pond - american punk artists.

johnny cash. no, seriously. man was punk before punk was defined.

my favorite band is probably social distortion. they're pretty different than those mentioned above, owing to their unmistakable americana sound and aesthetic. to me they're the quintessential rockabilly revival band, heavily influenced by country and blues. great guitar licks. think wistful and reckless all at once.

their frontman mike ness is an outrageously gorgeous man. he has two solo albums that absolutely slap. the happiest day of my life was seeing them live a couple years ago and he winked right at me - i promise i'm not delusional i swear he really did. ok i digress.

dead kennedys - hilarious lyrics and sick ass bass lines, very political and generally pretty iconic. one of my dad's faves. the cramps and the misfits. two bands overlapping goth + punk + psychobilly. pioneers of a campy subgenre known as horror-punk. i also really like danzig, the misfits frontman's solo career.

the velvet underground/lou reed - great example of american proto-punk. very NYC vibes. the pixies are a more grungy, later punk band. one of my mommy's favorites <3 i would unironically name my child velouria. definitely iconic but i find them overplayed sometimes, as in you've probably heard them at the grocery store.

this barely scratches the surface btw but i think that about covers it for today. sorry if i bored you to death pls come back and keep me company. peace and love on planet mpregfrance <3

#thank u as always anon #ask and ye shall receive #punk #music recs #spotify #playlist #punk playlist #ska #goth #psychobilly #rockabilly

12 notes · View notes

foliejpg · 8 days

Text

sage @puppyboymikeyway submitted a bunch of fob asks from this post so here ya go <3 putting it under a read more bc its a novel 😭

tttyg

dead on arrival: which of andy's haircuts is your favorite?

honestly i liked when he had the short bob and it was straight. he looked more like a lesbian then than usual

grand theft autumn: which was the first fall out boy song you heard and liked?

actually its this song 😭 i remember hearing it in a hot topic when i was around 15-16 and going home to look up the lyrics on my computer, then listening to every album straight through from tttyg to srar straight through in order lol srar had just come out

saturday: best concert you've attended?

my first fob show is special to me bc i got m&g tickets, so is the albany show this past march bc i got to meet them again with my boyfriend and a bunch of friends<333 but the best concert that the artist has put on i mean. i have to come clean i am a bit of a swiftie and the eras tour was crazy 😭 and fenway last year during tourdust because patrick did wams during the medley just for me<333 that's My Song

the pros and cons of breathing: do you own any fall out boy albums on cd or vinyl?

yes! here's a picture because there's a lot 💀 not pictured is the we didn't start the fire 7" because its so tiny i didn't see it until after i took the picture lmao

grenade jumper: trohmania or bass spin?

i gotta go with the bass spin sorry joe<3

the patron saints of liars and fakes: last big regret?

i wish i went to the madison square garden show in march but i couldn't afford the tickets</3

cork tree

our lawyer: worst fob rumor you've heard?

i can't really think of one? all i can think of is that one interview where patrick says the worst one he heard was that he was actually 31 and not 21

nobody puts baby in the corner: favorite 80's film?

who framed roger rabbit, clue, and that's all i can think of 😭 i'm not a big movie person

sixteen candles: favorite fob mv?

young and menace, america's suitehearts, hmlag, dance dance

the music or the misery: favorite bonus track?

from now on we are enemies and my heart is the worst kind of weapon, but i like the acoustic version of the latter way more<3

my heart is the worst kind of weapon: last time you said something you regretted?

bro i can't think of anything i don't listen to myself talk 💀

ioh

this ain't a scene, its an arms race: patrick in cardigans or patrick in sweaters?

SWEATERS lemme see that fabric stretch

thnks fr th mmrs: best memory?

i have no idea lmao when i met fob idk i have a really bad memory

don't you know who i think i am?: which high school stereotype would you describe yourself with?

is "snot nosed know it all who thinks she's better than everyone else but is just sheltered and bratty" a stereotype

fame < infamy: do you like black cards?

i'm a fake fan i've never listened 💀 bebe is a queen though

folie

lullabye: opinion on 'elisa stans?'

i don't know what that means these asks are from 2018 but everyone should leave fob's family alone <3

27: favorite instrument

BASS. i love bass guitar i need to feel it in my chest

w.a.m.s. which job would you prefer, waiter/actress/model/singer?

singer bc i enjoy singing and used to be good at it lol i can't act and food service freaks me out i don't want to be responsible for other people's food and also modeling just seems awful 💀

west coast smoker: favorite 80's band?

i love the smiths and joy division bc i'm a basic emo<3

srar

where did the party go: bass lines or guitar solos?

bass lines a million times over!!!! plus sometimes guitar solos make my ears ring 😅

death valley: who would you most like to be greeted by in the afterlife?

idk my cat kayla she passed when i was like 6 she was a good girl or my cat china (my mom named her 💀) she was a good girl too. lots of good girls here

abap

irresistible: which mv was your favorite?

the original one with the basketball game they're so goofy lmao

the kids aren't alright: if you could send a message to yourself five years ago, what would it say?

run for the fucking hills girl!!!!!!!

jet pack blues: which was your favorite fall out boy era?

this one because they're all happy and healthy and living their best lives, having lots of fun on stage and being weird and interacting with fans again<333

novocaine: cause of your last time in the hospital?

uhhhhh i can't remember the last time i was in the hospital lmao

favorite record: do you collect cds or vinyls?

both! i have a lot of both lol

mania

young and menace: are you excited for the future of fall out boy?

of course<3 i hope whatever they do next is satisfying creatively for them because i would rather wait a few years for new music than have them go back to working themselves to the bone and exhausting themselves so i'm sure whatever comes next will be worth the wait, stardust certainly was<3

champion: what's your proudest moment as a fan of them?

i don't knowwww i really like the little corner of the internet i'm in with some friends and mutuals and i get a lot of asks/msgs from ppl so i like that i've made a comfy little space for ppl to talk about fob<3 does that count lol idk i'm also proud of them for like. still doing what they're doing at their age those crusty old men

wilson: if you could purchase one thing being advertised in the wilson video, what would it be?

WORKING MALE MOUTH

sunshine riptide: if you could say one thing to the band, what would it be?

i would say thank you for making art and i would also corner pete and maKe him tell me about the pool ball strike at the beginning of disloyal order he can't get away with this anymore

WHOOOO BOY okay thanks for sending all those i hope you enjoy this essay<3

#ask #idk what to tag this as 💀#mine

5 notes · View notes

bubblesandgutz · 5 months

Text

Every Record I Own - Day 807: The Rolling Stones Hackney Diamonds

This marks the end of my Stones posts. And given their age, this album may come to mark the end of The Stones as a recording entity. And as far as I'm concerned, we're going out on a high note.

Even the diehards will admit that The Rolling Stones peaked decades ago. And the diehards will also probably agree that by the time the '80s were in full swing, The Stones were a legacy act with little new to offer. No one is gonna canonize Undercover or Dirty Work. There were still hints of their magic sprinkled throughout their work through the '90s and into the first half of the '00s, but really, people held onto their love for The Stones based on their earlier classics and their continuing reputation for putting on a solid live show.

Maybe there was some sort of creative rut for the Stones. Some loss of purpose. Some struggle to hold onto their original sound while moving forward. I've been playing music long enough to know the tricky balance of pleasing the old fans while keeping things fresh and exciting. The Stones had become a nostalgia brand, and that brand generated a lot of money. Were they putting out new albums to keep the merchandising and ticket-selling machine in the public eye? Or was there some genuine creative joy embedded in those later records that just wasn't translating? Everyone knows Mick and Keith's friendship deteriorated over the years. Was that rift behind the waning quality of their albums?

And then there's the big question: did the world need a new Stones album in 2023? It'd been eighteen years since their last batch of new material. While there were defenders of A Bigger Bang (2005), it didn't convince anyone that the band was back in top form.

I was skeptical. But on a long solo drive across Eastern Oregon last fall, I decided to give Hackney Diamonds a listen. I'd already listened to Exile on the drive, followed it up with Tattoo You, and figured this might actually be my last chance to listen to a brand new Rolling Stones album while they were still active. I put on Hackney Diamonds as I drove across the high desert and, to my surprise, it sounded fucking great.

No Stones album has ever hit me on first listen until Hackney Diamonds. The band doesn't try to do anything new. The production is big and shiny, but it still sounds like a real band. Jagger doesn't address our tumultuous world like he might have back in the '60s, and maybe the album's odes to turbulent relationships are a little simplistic. But maybe there's actually more there than we hear on that first listen. Are "Angry" and "Bite My Head Off" just your typical songs about having a spat with a lover? Or is it about battling the public's expectations? Is "Depending On You" another forlorn love song? Or is it actually a plea to Richards?

Curiosity also drove me to read the Pitchfork review for Hackney Diamonds, who unsurprisingly shat on the band for "acting their image rather than their age." The remaining paragraphs go on to rail against a wealthy band wringing more money out of middle aged men. I'd counter that people as rich as Jagger and Richards don't really need to take the time to write another album and take another year off from their private lives to go on tour just to be a little bit richer in their eighties. And pandering to middle aged men seems no less noble than pandering to the twenty-something youth market that Pitchfork depends on for advertising revenue (and hate to break it to ya, Pitchfork, but your initial fanbase is middle aged now).

Is it shameful to grow old? Is it shameful for Mick and Keith to keep doing the thing they've done for 60 years? Is it shameful to love what you do and to try to hold onto it for as long as possible? Sure, maybe at some point the magic ebbed away, but the band always had their highs and lows. And if Mick and Keith drifted apart, perhaps the passing of Charlie Watts reminded them that their days were numbered, and they could either pack it in and become mired in the rusty stasis of old age, or they could go out in a blaze of glory.

I refuse to think art and music are creative pursuits that only belong to the young. Sure, I wanna hear music made by excited young people, but I also wanna hear music made by people my age. And I also want to hear music made by people with decades of experience who know exactly what they want, exactly how to do it, and how to have a fucking blast in process.

And that's exactly what Hackney Diamonds sounds like. If the story ends here, then it provides a satisfying narrative arc to the history of The Stones. Excellent work, Glimmer Twins.

#the rolling stones #everyrecordiown

9 notes · View notes

lemoncrushh · 1 month

Text

The Entertainer II - Track 01 - It's Good to See You

STORY PAGE

Track 01 Word Count: 4.1k+

Read The Entertainer

November 25, 1981

“Ooh the wheel in the sky keeps on turning I don’t know where I’ll be tomorrow”

I felt my heart race as I turned my focus back to Steve Perry singing on the stage. My mouth suddenly felt dry, my palms clammy.

It can’t be him, I thought to myself. No. No, it’s not. Just someone who sort of looks like…

I hadn’t seen him in five years. Sure, I’d seen his face - on the television, in all the rock magazines I bought, on the back cover of all three of Wildfire’s albums...and sometimes in my dreams. But I hadn’t seen him in person since that day at the airport when I’d hugged him goodbye and wished him well.

When I’d told him I loved him.

I tried to pay attention to the band in front of me, the one I’d come to see. Journey’s newest album Escape was my current favorite, so when I received a raise at my job, I rewarded myself with a concert ticket to their fourth sold-out show at The Forum, the night before Thanksgiving. Halo had been disappointed she couldn’t make it, but she’d already promised her family she’d visit them for the entire week, so I was attending alone.

I wished Halo was with me right then however, so she could be an extra set of eyes and let me know if that cute guy a couple of sections over was who I thought it was. Instead, I snuck another peek of my own. It was dark in the arena, so I couldn’t get a good look, but his hair and profile fit the memory I had in my head.

That is, until I turned the corner in the hallway after leaving the restroom.

“Sky?”

It was him. And he was standing right in front of me.

“Harry,” I barely breathed.

His chest rose and fell with his own breath as his lips grew into a smile.

“It is you,” he declared with what sounded like relief. “I thought it was and...it is.”

I shrugged shyly. “It’s me.”

Those two seconds were enough to make me forget about the commotion around us, but when someone nearly knocked me into Harry, with barely an “excuse me”, he suggested we step to the side.

“You look wonderful,” he remarked when I took my place against the wall, his gaze leaving my eyes momentarily to shift down my body and back up again.

“Thanks. So do you.”

And he did. He hadn’t changed at all. Maybe...a tiny bit. His hair was still long, if only an inch or so shorter than before. The chocolate curls still brushed his shoulders the way they had five years ago, though they appeared a bit fuller. His jaw lines seemed to be a little more defined, the sharp edges peeking from behind his stubble. The only real difference was probably his choice of clothing, though it didn’t stray too far from the style I’d known him to wear. His long legs were clad in jeans, and boots adorned his feet like before, but he wore a more conservative tan v-neck sweater underneath a brown leather bomber jacket, both of which I decided were very sexy on him. I caught sight of the familiar cross that lay in the center of his chest just before my eyes locked with his once again.

He seemed to stare at me for a few seconds, his dimples slowly disappearing from his cheeks as his lips relaxed until he finally opened his arms and stepped forward, surprising me with an embrace.

“It’s good to see you,” I heard him murmur in my hair.

“You, too,” I replied, his old, familiar scent suddenly overwhelming my senses. I bit my lip to keep the emotions at bay.

“How’ve you been?” he asked, stepping back to look at me again, his hands still grazing my elbows.

“Not bad, I-” I began when I finally noticed the man standing a few feet behind him. He was leaning against a post, probably trying to look inconspicuous, but I figured quickly that he must have been security. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Harry Styles had been a successful front man for the last several years. He was practically a household name.

“Did you come alone?” I heard him ask before I could finish my previous answer.

“Sorry?” I blinked, catching his gaze again.

“To the show? Are you here alone...or did Halo come with?”

“Oh,” I grinned, pleased that he remembered my best friend’s name as well. “No, I’m flying solo tonight.”

A gentle smile spread across his face again, and I thought he was about to ask me something else when I heard a loud gasp behind me.

“Oh my God. You’re Harry Styles!” a woman’s voice squealed.

“Yes, I am,” he nodded.

A tall, slim figure with fiery red hair and the tightest Jordache jeans I’d ever seen walked around me and stood between us as though I wasn’t even there.

“I have to get your autograph!” she exclaimed.

As she rummaged through her small, yet obviously filled pocketbook, Harry eyed me over her head.

“Don’t leave yet, okay?” he mouthed.

With a nod, I felt my insides flip. He wanted me to stay. While my heart was bursting with the joy of seeing him again, it was all so sudden; I hadn’t really had a chance to process it yet. I caught the twinkle in Harry’s eye as he shrugged at me while he waited for the woman to retrieve a pen from her purse.

“Sorry, honey, I know I have some paper in here somewhere,” she announced

“Take your time,” Harry said genuinely.

I wondered how he could remain so calm and patient. I was already keen on dumping out the contents of her bag onto the dirty floor, and it had barely been twenty seconds.

“Aha!” she called, holding up a mini notepad with a kitten on the front. “Here it is!”

Giving her another winning smile, Harry took the pen and pad from her.

“What’s your name, love?” he asked her, and immediately I saw her beam at him as she jutted her tits out.

Damn him. Why did he have to be so charming?

“Kitty,” the woman replied. I nearly choked.

“Seriously?” Harry chuckled.

“Mmhm,” nodded the redhead. “Like a kitty cat. Meow.”

I covered my mouth with the sleeve of my sweater to keep from laughing as I watched Harry sign Kitty’s little kitten notebook, his eyebrows raised to the ceiling and a goofy look on his face.

“What are you doing after this?” I heard Kitty inquire. “Maybe we could grab a drink or something.”

Although I thought I might vomit, Harry didn’t miss a beat.

“Sorry love, can’t tonight. I’m headed out after this.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Kitty pouted.

“Here you go,” Harry offered, returning the woman’s pen and notebook. “Nice to meet you, Kitty. Have a lovely evening.”

I had to hand it to him. He was definitely a pro at this.

“You too, handsome,” Kitty winked before strutting off with a wave. “Bye bye.”

I noticed the man behind Harry stood up straight from the post he’d been leaning on to watch Ms. Tight Jeans walk away, though it was unclear if it was for security or personal reasons. Before I could ask, Harry stepped closer to me.

“Sorry about that,” he said. “It happens from time to time.”

“I’m sure it does,” I grinned.

Just then, the man tapped Harry on the shoulder. “Harry, sorry man, but we gotta get goin’.”

“Shit,” Harry groaned. “Just...a gimme a sec, Stu, she’s...an old friend. And I got sidetracked by a fan.”

Stu narrowed his eyes before he nodded and held up two fingers like he was giving a peace sign. “Two minutes.”

Harry grimaced as he turned back to me. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I muttered.

“No, it’s not,” he replied hurriedly. “I didn’t expect to run into you, and...I wasn’t thinking straight, and now I’ve got two bloody minutes to talk to you after…”

“The ginger catwoman?” I offered.

Harry giggled, adorable crinkles forming next to his eyes. “Yeah.”

With a feeling of warmth inside down to my toes, I smiled. “How are you, Harry?”

“I’m...doing well, thanks. How about you?”

“You already asked me. It’s your turn. With probably closer to a minute left now.”

With a sigh, Harry tilted his head. “I’ve missed you. You might not believe it, but I have.”

I wasn’t exactly sure if I believed it; he had millions of adoring fans, girls flocking to him at any given moment. He probably hadn’t given me much of a thought. But it was still nice to hear.

“Hey, what am I thinking?” Harry shook his head. “I’m in town for a few weeks. Let’s get together and catch up!”

“Oh. Okay,” I replied, the butterflies resuming their dance in my tummy.

“Do you still live in the same place?”

I chuckled. Five years might not have been an extremely long stretch of time, but a lot had happened. Remembering that apartment I’d shared with Halo felt like eons ago.

“No,” I shook my head. “Halo and I each have our own apartments now. In fact, we’ve both moved a couple of times since then.”

“Oh,” Harry grinned as he scratched his head. “Yeah, I reckon it has been a while.”

“I’ll give you my new number,” I said.

Unfortunately, unlike Kitty, I didn’t carry around my own notepad. But I did have a pen and my ticket stub. Gesturing for Harry to turn around, I used his back for a surface to write on. When I handed him the stub, he glared at me questioningly.

“You could have just written it on my hand,” he smirked. “You might wanna keep this.”

I shrugged, both of us beginning to laugh as we noticed the song that had begun to play in the hallway.

“Call me, on the line Call me, call me any, anytime”

“That’s so funny,” I giggled.

“It’s like it was meant to be,” Harry agreed, his smile sending shivers down my spine.

Stu returned sternly then, his hand slapping Harry’s shoulder and ending our reunion as sharply as the breaking of a mirror.

“Gotta go, buddy,” he said.

“I’ll call you, Sky,” Harry promised. “We definitely need to catch up.”

“Okay,” I nodded, grasping the strap of my shoulder bag, unable to think of anything else to say.

Just as he was about to turn to leave with Stu, Harry stopped and looked at me for a split second. Then erasing the space between us, he pulled me into another hug. And just as quickly, he let go and was gone.

“Anytime, anyplace, anywhere, any day...”

Locking the door behind me and hooking the latch, I shrugged out of my jacket with a sigh, dropping it across the back of a chair. It had been a long, fulfilling Thanksgiving with my parents, but I was glad to be home. Turning on the radio, I made my way to the bathroom where I prepared a much-needed bubble bath for myself. Stepping into the suds, I sang along to Smokey Robinson.

“You’re gonna fly away, glad you’re goin’ my way I love it when we’re cruisin’ together”

Shutting my eyes, I let the melody, Smokey’s voice and the aroma of the bubble bath soothe me into complete bliss. The sudden abrasive ringing of the telephone startled me, however, and I sat up in the tub, wondering if I had enough time to get up and answer it. But I was so comfortable where I was, and I figured the caller would just call again if it was urgent. When the rings stopped after number four, I sat back and shut my eyes again.

“Let the music take your mind…”

My mind wandered to the night before when I’d run into Harry. I wondered if it had been him calling, and for a second I felt disappointed. But I told myself it probably wasn’t him. He’d said he’d call, but I hadn’t expected him to call me so soon. If I was being honest with myself, I didn’t really expect to hear from him at all.

I only hoped I would.

After listening to a couple more songs, I washed up and drained the tub. Quickly drying off, I headed for my bedroom, grabbed my robe from behind the closet door and slipped into it. Rick Springfield began to serenade me then, confessing his desire to have Jessie’s Girl as I padded into the kitchen for a glass of water. The phone rang again as I swallowed, the liquid suddenly feeling like a rock going down my throat. What if it was him? I stared at the receiver hanging on the wall as it rang a second time, and I slowly set my glass on the counter and reached for the radio knob, lowering the volume. Finally answering on the third ring, I felt fourteen-year-old jitters, like a girl getting her first phone call from a boy.

“Hello?” It came out more like a squeak than I’d wanted it to.

“Hi.” Only one, short word was spoken for his greeting, but it didn’t matter. I knew who it was.

“Hi,” I echoed as I slowly sat down in the kitchen chair.

“Sorry it’s so late. Hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No, not at all,” I said. “I just got home a little while ago. How are you?”

“Oh, I’m fine. Happy Thanksgiving.”

I giggled, grateful for the good wishes of an American holiday. “Thanks. Did you do anything today?”

“I did, actually,” Harry replied. “Had a lovely dinner with the Azoffs. Turkey and everything.”

“Oh, Mr. Irving!” I exclaimed. “I miss him. How is he?”

“He’s great,” Harry chuckled. “Same ol’ Irving. What about you? How was your day?”

“Good,” I sighed. “Dinner with my parents as usual. Ate too much. As usual.”

“Isn’t that what Thanksgiving is for though?”

“I suppose so,” I grinned. “Especially if it includes my mom’s sweet potatoes.”

“Ah, with the marshmallows on top?”

“You bet.”

Harry laughed again, and I felt that familiar tingle on my skin, giving me goosebumps.

“So, I promised I’d ring you…”

“And you did,” I finished.

“Are you surprised?”

“A little.”

“Why’s that?”

Letting a breath out of my nose, I let the phone cord wrap around my finger. “Well...Harry...it’s been five years. It’s not like we’ve been in touch the whole time, or even at all. Not…” I swallowed hard, “not even one phone call.”

“I’m deeply sorry about that.”

“It’s not that I expected you to keep in touch, you know,” I continued. “When you left, I knew it was probably forever. I wanted you to go be whoever you wanted to be. And you did, and...I’m still very proud of you.”

“I appreciate that, Sky. But I do apologize for not keeping in touch. It’s been...a crazy ride.”

“I understand,” I said, though I didn’t really. “But enough about that. You said you wanted to catch up, so…”

“Yeah, I definitely do,” remarked Harry. “There’s a lot to talk about, though, and I don’t wanna keep you up.”

“It’s okay. I’m off tomorrow and I have no plans but to sleep in. So where should we start? I heard about the band. Are you...doing okay?”

I didn’t know the details of the break up, so I didn’t want to pry too much.

“Oh yeah, it’s fine,” said Harry. “Great even.”

“Are you guys still talking, or is there some animosity?”

“There wasn’t a big fight or anything,” Harry replied. “But yeah, maybe a little bit of tension. We just decided to go our separate ways. Deacon moved back to London. Lee’s girlfriend is having a baby and they’re getting married. So it’s basically just Mitch and me now. He’s with family for the holidays, and I’m just hanging out in L.A. for a bit. Irving and I are talking about a solo project.”

“Solo? Wow, Harry, that’s exciting! Will Mitch still be in your band?”

“I dunno for sure yet, but probably. I haven’t had much of a chance to discuss it with him. It’s still in the beginning stages, so I can’t say too much about it yet.”

“Of course, I understand,” I acknowledged. “Well, whatever you do, I know it will be fantastic.”

“Thanks, Sky,” he said with a grin in his voice.

I chuckled. “It’s so funny to hear you call me that.”

“Why? Are you not Sky anymore?”

“Only to Halo,” I replied. “No one else calls me Sky nowadays.”

“Oh. So you reclaimed Mary Lou, did you?”

“Nope. Just Mary to most people. That’s what I go by at work anyway. Only my mom calls me Mary Lou when she thinks she’s scolding me.”

Harry’s laugh rang through the phone, the sound making me feel nostalgic and lonely at the same time. I’d missed him more that I’d been willing to admit.

“Well, am I allowed to call you Sky?” he asked.

“Sure. If you want to.”

“Yeah. You’ll always be Sky to me. ‘Like the colour of the sky just before the rain.’”

My throat made an involuntary gulping sound as I realized I was holding back emotions. “I...can’t believe you remember that.”

“Of course I do, love. I remember a lot of things.”

Trying my best to push down the feelings rising in my chest, I gave a short chuckle. “Like what?”

“Like...the Joni Mitchell song you sang for me. Sleeping on your sofa. The night at the Holiday Inn.”

Goosebumps erupted all over my skin, even on my scalp, and I felt like I was floating. He remembered. Which meant...he’d probably thought about me before.

“And there’s my guitar, of course,” he added. “The acoustic Martin that I play sometimes. You were with me when I bought it.”

“I’m so glad you still have it,” I smiled.

“Well, it’s a great guitar,” Harry declared with a laugh. Then I heard him sigh before he spoke again. “So tell me about you, Sky. What has...Mary Jones been doing the last five years?”

I bit my lip as I rose from my chair, deciding to make a cup of cocoa. The radio still played low, like the background soundtrack from a movie scene. As if on cue, I heard the beginning chords of a familiar song, one from Wildfire’s second album. It had been one of my favorites and one of their biggest hits. I felt a ping of disappointment that I hadn’t been in touch with Harry at that time, and a bit of regret that I hadn’t made a point to see him on tour when he’d come to L.A. that year. But I just couldn’t. I hadn’t really known why, and despite Halo telling me I wasn’t over him yet, I’d sworn that I was.

But maybe I wasn’t. Maybe I was afraid that he wouldn’t want to talk to me, the way he was talking to me now. Or worse, that he wouldn’t remember me at all.

“I um...I work for an insurance company,” I explained, grabbing a mug from the cupboard. “In an office. Nothing fancy or exciting.”

“Well, that’s great. And you have your own place?”

“Yeah. It’s nothing fancy either, but it’s mine.”

“Wonderful. Do you still play guitar and sing?”

“I do,” I replied. “But not as much as I’d like to. Work gets in the way, you know? Life.”

Harry chuckled low. “That’s too bad. I really hope you stick with it. You have a beautiful voice.”

“Thanks,” I muttered, grateful that he couldn’t see the red on my face.

“Are you seeing anyone?”

His question rang in my ears for several seconds as I waited for the water to boil. I thought fleetingly of Bill, a man one of my co-workers, Donna, had set me up with the weekend before last. While he’d been nice enough, there’d been no chemistry. That had seemed to be the normal pattern for most of my dating history. With the exception of Alan, whom I’d seen for a few months in 1980, I hadn’t had any serious relationships.

“No,” I finally replied, pouring the water into the mug.

“Oh. Well good, I reckoned I’d make sure before I asked you to dinner tomorrow night.”

I couldn’t stop the smile on my face. “You were gonna ask me out?”

“Yeah, well...if you want to. I know it’s getting late and...I’d really like to see you again. I still have loads to tell you, but I’d like to do it in person. We could catch up some more. And I’d love to see your place...if that’s okay.”

“I think...that’s more than okay,” I managed to say, somewhat surprising myself.

I actually heard him sigh like he was relieved before he said, “Great.”

After giving him my address, we chatted lightly until saying our goodbyes.

“See you tomorrow, Sky. I’m really looking forward to it.”

“Me too. Goodnight, Harry.”

My cheeks felt pinched from smiling, my face warm as I returned the phone to the wall. Time was a funny thing, I thought. It had taken me a long time to get over Harry Styles. Even when I’d thought I was, the memory of him had always lingered. Not hate or bitterness, just...longing. And then out of the blue, seeing and talking to him again...it was as though time had erased everything in between. The feelings I’d had for him all those years ago had returned in just a short telephone conversation.

I heard a slow song begin to play on the radio, and I turned up the volume as I grabbed my mug and sat back down at the table. The words hit me hard like a thunderclap through my chest.

“Hello again, hello Just called to say hello…”

Staring at the wall, every single memory of Harry replayed in my mind as tears streamed down my face. I remembered everything he’d mentioned earlier and more. I remembered dancing in my room to the old Buddy Holly record, and the way his lips felt when he’d first kissed me. I remembered the way my heart broke in two when I’d thought he was in his room with Pippa, and the way his green eyes silently spoke to me when we’d made love. I recalled the way his arms felt around me, the sound of his voice saying my real name, his laugh when I’d said something funny, the look on his face when I’d told him I loved him. I remembered the way he owned the stage in that honky tonk in Chula Vista, the way he’d cried the night he told me about Simon, his ecstatic voice when he’d called me to tell me Wildfire’s album had gone gold, and the photos that I hadn’t realized until later he’d taken of me with my camera - the same ones that still laid in the bottom of my nightstand. I hadn’t actually forgotten any of it. I’d only stored it all in the back of my brain for safe keeping.

“And I know it’s late But I couldn’t wait...hello”

By the end of the song, my cocoa was cold, and I cursed Neil Diamond for making me bawl. But it was what I’d needed. I hadn’t cried over Harry in years.

“I missed you so much,” I whispered to no one.

Then rising from the table, I poured the cold cocoa down the drain and turned off the radio. Perhaps tomorrow I could tell him in person.

Songs mentioned:

Journey - Wheel in the Sky

Blondie - Call Me

Smokey Robinson - Cruisin'

Rick Springfield - Jessie's Girl

Neil Diamond - Hello Again

How did you like this little reunion? Let's chat!

As always, feedback and reblogs are appreciated :).

tagging: @daphnesutton, @fkinavocado

27 notes · View notes