#john lennon x sister

[warnersister]

Gonna give you a baby (smut)

The Beatles x Reader, Paul McCartney x Wife! Reader

Summary: you and Paul have fertility issues, the three men with a thing for you see this as a great opportunity to lend a helping hand. -> hate this one didn’t write it well🤧

Warnings: mentions of infertility, pregnancy, filthy smut, five-some, degrading (slut, whore, etc), hand-jobs, oral (f+m receiving), just a lot.

Requested by: @jill-smith-123

You and Paul had met in the early 50’s. Your family had moved in just down the street from him and the 10 year old McCartney was awestruck from the moment he laid eyes on you. The next day, he’d showed up at your house, to which your less-than-pleased father had answered the door, with a bow-tie and bouquets of flowers he’d taken from your mother’s new garden, to ask you to accompany him to the local youth centre for disco night.

He’d bought you a sherbet straw while he puffed on candy cigarettes before pecking your lips with tight-shut eyes mid way through you dining along to The Andrews Sisters’ song your mother had on vinyl.

When you were each a bit older, you’d accompanied Paul to the cavern club sitting in the front row as you’d hummed along with him, his eyes never drawing away from your own. Then he’d take you for dinner, a real fancy restaurant that his uncle owned, and he said that he’d pay - but it was always on the house.

Eventually, another three boys had somehow weaselled their way into your life and the product was an up and coming band: The Beatles. John Lennon, George Harrison, Pete- (scratch that) Richard Starkey and your boy Paul McCartney. And it was no secret that the three also had a thing for you - between the constant bickering and playful flirtations, Paul brushed it off because he always knew in the end that you were always his, and he was always yours.

Especially when he proposed on your twentieth birthday in 1962. Beatlemania crazed the nation and it wasn’t long before scandalous magazines began to accuse the boys of unruly acts and Paul was no different. And realistically, Paul saw the only way fit to prove his innocence to you was to ask for your hand in marriage. With your father’s approval of course… (?)

The fame never concerned you, nor did it necessarily appeal to you either - so you’d had a small ceremony in the local church, doors locked for a healthy gathering of your closest family and friends and an after party conjoined with a reception in the Cavern Club into the early hours of the morning.

“Y’know love, I never read a rule that said your first night had to be with your actual husband.” George had whispered into your ear, smirking at you after seeing the look on your face. “Not her first night.” Paul responded, hints of jealously in his tone as he threw you over his shoulder and off to his car.

That was also the night you’d discovered Paul’s intense breeding kink. His hips pushing into you at a bruising rate, lips failing him as he stuttered out his desire to see you full with his children.

But that was the problem.

“Am I the problem?” You’d asked Paul as you buried your face in his neck, crying after umpteen times, you still weren’t pregnant. “No, no, not at all dove.” He caressed your back gently. “We’re just going to have to be moved patient and keep trying. You’re perfect.” He said softy, cupping your puffy face between his hands, looking you over with a concerned gaze.

“Hey, woah woah woah what’s up lovey?” John asked as the other band members entered the room. They all ran to your side, helplessly watching the tears roll down your cheeks. “I can’t get pregnant.” You sniffed, hiccuping as the tears continued to flow. Ringo’s hands cupped yours as his sad eyes looked into yours. “Maybe there’s just not enough.” He said and your brows creased.

“Y’know our offer is always on the table.” George’s continued. “What offer?” You asked, confused. “Y’ mean you never told her, paulie boy?” John cocked his head. “No, cause I know what you lot are like.” “What y’ on about?” You ask again. “All of us.” George said. “Y’ mean-” “all of us at once.” John took your chin between his fingers and squatted down to where you were sat. “Wrecking y’ can handle us, dovey?” Shocked, you look from John to Paul who had a knowing smirk frowning on his lips. Without thinking, you nod at them. Suddenly, you were swept off of your feet and into the arms of John. “Let’s make you a baby.”

A king size bed was certainly not big enough to support the five of you, but in the boys’ desperation, you certainly managed. You were placed down gently on the bed, soft covers enveloping you as the four starved men looked down at you with lustful eyes. Your clothes were practically torn from your body, apparently them being to impatient to allow you to get undressed properly.

Paul caressed your hair gently before leaning into kiss you, as you begin to feel light kisses and licks on your breasts. You look down to see John staring back at you, a cheeky grin on his lips. He bit your nipple harshly and you hissed, screwing your eyes tight and throwing your head back. “Better get used to that if y’ want a baby.” George said, tracing his hand up and down the sensitive skin on your inner thigh.

Then all the delicious contact went again and you groaned, searching for the friction they were giving you. “Y’ want a baby? Y’ gonna have to let us get undressed first.” George chuckled. When they were undressed, John situated himself between your legs. “Oi, shift she’s my missus I’m having the first go.” Paul grumbled. “And the reason she can’t get pregnant.” John replied smugly, but was shoved out of the way by your husband. “Y’ gonna show em what a good slut y’ are for me, hmm?” He asked, fingers wandering down your thigh and towards your heat, beginning to pump them at an agonisingly slow pace.

George yanked your hair back and forced you to look at him, your mouth falling agape in the process. “Y’ gonna be good for us? Gonna give old Paulie a baby?” He taunted, rubbing himself a few times before forcing his length into your mouth. Gagging slightly, you tried your best to open your throat in the position you were in.

A heat built up inside of you, warmth rushing as you chased your high but it was soon stripped from you. Unable to complain, the disheartenment was soon replaced by something much larger - you and Paul groaned simultaneously, George doing the same as you sent vibrations flying through his cock.

After a while of Paul’s bruising pace, you rest his unwavering hips stutter as he released into you, you doing the same and realising all over him. George pulled out of your mouth and thrust himself into his hand a few times before also cumming. “Such a filthy whore.” Paul taunted, enamoured by the drool leaking from your lips.

“My turn now, birdie?” Ringo asked and you hummed, still dazed and coming off of your high. “He asked you a question. You being a disobedient slut for him?” John asked and you shook your head no. “Y-yes, your turn Richie.” You managed to stutter out.

His dick hardened at his routine nickname, needing no time to prepare you so without warning, sliding himself straight in. He let out a big breath of air at the feeling of your soft wall enveloping him. He began thrusting at an agonisingly slow pace, you in turn, crying out in desperation. “Patience now, doll.” Ringo told you. “Good things come to those who wait.” He took his time with you, not knowing when an opportunity like this one would come again.

Your head fell to the side and your eyes connected with John’s, who looked down at you with a small shit-eating grin. He leant down and licked your ear love, whispering gently “gonna give me a hand job while you let your husband’s friend take you?” You moaned at his question but nodded at him, raising your hand to rub up and down his hardening cock, swiping the tip a few times to use his pre-cum as some sort of lubricant. You pulled away and spat saliva into your palm, beginning to jerk him off at a faster rare. “Isn’t your first rodeo, is it dove?” John asked with a chuckle. “Got you well trained, haven’t I chick?” Paul said, leaning down to latch his lips onto yours.

Your high came excruciatingly slow, Richard building up the pace to the point he could no longer take it and took you animalistically, only stopping to release his seed deep into your womb and felt you cum over him. Waiting long enough for some of it to sink in, he slowly pulled out and kissed at the cold air attaching his sensitive member.

John released into your hand and felt his cock re-stiffen at the sight of you licking your hand clean. “Fuck. Me next.” He said, walking around the bed to your feet and positioning himself between your legs, feeling yourself being manoeuvred like some inhuman marionette. He moved you until your face was in the sheets and back arched for him, arse and sweet warmth on display for him. “Can’t let any of their cum get out, can we love?” He’d asked tauntingly, nails digging painfully rough into your hips.

He slipped in quickly, cock twitching at the sound you made, sensitive from the numerous rounds you had been put through. “Can’t believe Paul gets to keep you all to himself. A little slut all for him.” He said, staring to pepper kissed down your back while his hands found your breasts. Your arse was unquestionably bruised, as was your neck from the way Ringo and George were sucking at either side of it. John let out his load deep inside of you, full ovaries feeling themself being stuffed by the liquid trickling down into them.

George had waited so patiently for his turn, so patient with a so painful hard-on that he was going to make you regret giving him. Seeing himself torture you would be enough of a reason to make himself wait a few more moments. He spun you around and returned you into your back, kneeling down to kiss and worship the skin of your inner thighs, yet never close enough to provide the friction you so-desperately needed.

He kissed and sucked at your clit, thumb coming up to rub it as his tongue delved deep into your walls, making you cry out at the sight of their cum on his tongue. He thrust it into you a half a dozen more times before standing up and forcing his elongated cock into you. You hissed, pained by the repetitive beatings your intestines were receiving.

“Such a good little brat for us aren’t you?’ Paul asked, staring down at you as if a predator staring at its helpless pray. “Yes, ‘m good.” You repeated, doing as you were told as he tapped your chin to tell you to open it. You parted your lips and allowed your husband to force his dick into your already sore and throbbing throat.

George’s hips snapped at a consistent and quick pace, eyes not deferring from yours as he watched you take his bandmate’s cock so well. “Take him so well, don’t you dove?” He asked, praising you as you hummed and Macca moaned. George put his thumb onto your overstimulated clit and pressed down harshly. You cried out but tried your best to keep your throat open. “That’s if, keep it open.” Your husband taunted. And with a few more final thrusts, George cummed inside of you as you did the same, Paul releasing deep down your throat and you refrained from coughing - instead harshly swallowing and wiping the remaining resales from your mouth with your tongue and the back of your head.

“You were such a good girl.” John said, petting your hair gently and pecking your forehead. “Y’ alright, princess?” Ringo asked and you looked up at him and smiled with a nod. “Definitely gonna give Paulie boy a baby for being so good.” George added as he strolled your leg comfortingly. You enjoyed the praise you were receiving, letting the men manoeuvre you so you were in Paul’s lap. With your eyes shut, you felt yourself being lowered onto his cock and you hissed in both oversensitivity and surprise. You looked at your husband with tired eyes. “Don’t want any of it to go to waste.” He said with a wink and cheeky little smile. “Thank you.” You mumbled, drifting to sleep on his chest their quiet conversation turning into distant white noise.

A week or two later, your head was in the toilet bowl as Paul pulled your hair back into a make-shift pony tail and caressed your back at seven in the morning to let you be sick. “It’s alright love, think you’re coming down with something.” He said, pressing the back of his hand against your forehead to check for a fever. It was winter after all and your unreliable immune system was no match for England winters. “I’ll take you to the pharmacy, yeah?” And you’d nodded, wiping your mouth and letting him lead you out to the car.

You weren’t sick, unless your count baby fever. You were pregnant. Pregnant with a child. Pregnant with Paul’s(?) baby. The two of you were overjoyed and as were the rest of the boys when they found out, although offering if you wanted to have two in there just to ask, not minding the sight of you naked and belly swelling with a child.

And eight and a half months later, two weeks premature, your water broke at midnight. Paul sped to the hospital, mentally timing the distance between your contractions to tell the midwife when you got there. After a while of pushing, swearing, breaking Paul’s fingers, and him nearly dainton at the sight of the head coming out of such a small area, at seven minutes past 8, your son was born.

The boys all crowed around, in awe at the new baby in your arms. “He has his mother’s chin.” Paul notes, grinning from ear to ear. “And his fathers face.” The lads then piped up. “And Ringo’s droopy eyes-” George stated but was Vito off by the man himself “oi, oh yeah actually he does. And John’s nose.” John hummed. “And George’s eye colour and ears.” You all began laughing.

Whoever’s paternal child this may be, he was certainly a gift you yourself, your husband, and the three men who tagged along with you.

[karlachismylife]

Just finished re-watching Help! (The Beatles movie) as my birthday tradition (it's either the Yellow Submarine animated film or Help! every year since literal childhood even though I didn't understand anything they said at the time) and now I'm thinking that Ghost might actually like it a lot and find fucking hilarious. Like, sure, it's not the darkest shade of humor like he usually prefers, but it's the most absurd, silly and punny thing where every line is treated with the most seriousness (aka the best kind of humor imo lol).

It might be his mum's influence. She had good taste in music, maybe Beatles weren't her first choice, but I bet they had at least one vinyl. I bet Simon prefers them to many other things. I bet he takes the piss out of Johnny's music taste and has him over to watch Help! to teach this scottish mutt what real culture is. Even if they are goddamn Liverpool golden boys, Simon's Manchester pride can survive this.

Especially when Soap's sprawled right next to him on the couch, thighs spread, knee jiggling and laughter booming at every deadpan delivery of a silly (and yet clever) joke.

Hell, if Johnny's not in a hurry, maybe they can watch A Hard Day's Night too?

[suicidedance]

BUCK-TICK Q&A (1987)

Source: Limited_Night_ on X

Q1: Who is your family comprised of?

Sakurai: Mother, older brother, me, dog and two cats.

Imai: Grandma, dad, mom, aunt, younger brother, younger sister.

Hoshino: Father, mother, younger sister, older brother.

Higuchi: Father, older sister and older brother.

Yagami: Father, older sister, niece, younger brother.

Q2: Date and place of birth

Sakurai: March 7, 1966. Fujioka City, Gunma Prefecture.

Imai: October 21, 1965. Takasaki Hospital.

Hoshino: June 16, 1961. Fujioka General Hospital. 

Higuchi: January 24, 1967. Takasaki.

Yagami: August 19, 1962. Takasaki.

Q3: What are you called by everyone? Why is that?

Sakurai: Acchan, Atsushi. Why?

Imai: Imai. I’m Imai so that’s why.

Hoshino: Hide. Because I’m Hidehiko.

Higuchi: Yuuta. When I was a child, I was called Yuutan, which was shortened to Yuuta.

Yagami: Anii (big brother) by the other members because I’m older. (He’s U-TA’s older brother)

Q4: Height, weight, shoe size, eyesight

Sakurai: 177 cm, 57 kg, 26 cm. 1.5 on the right, 1.2 on the left.

Imai: 174 cm, 58 kg, 26 cm. 1.2 on the right and 1.2 on the left, I think.

Hoshino: 179 cm, 60 kg, 27 cm. 1.5 and 1.5.

Higuchi: 167 cm, 48 kg, 25 cm. 0.9 on the right, 1.2 on the left.

Yagami: 170 cm, 48 kg, 25 cm. 1.5. 

Q5: Favorite foods

Sakurai: Sushi (toro ebi), chahan, corn soup.

Imai: Tempura udon, katsu curry, kimchi, reba nira, asparagus, burger with pickles, generic chips, miso soup, nametake, shiokara, oyster, sashimi, sushi, yakiniku, ham and eggs, natto, sea urchin, tororo, watermelon, turbo sazae.

Hoshino: Yakiniku, salad, ramen, pudding.

Higuchi: Vegetables.

Yagami: Pudding.

Q6: Foods you dislike

Sakurai: Eggplant, shellfish, scallion, shiitake mushrooms, bamboo shoots.

Imai: None.

Hoshino: Egg yolk.

Higuchi: Jellyfish.

Yagami: Liver.

Q7: What you want the most right now

Sakurai: Everything in this world.

Imai: Good songs.

Hoshino: Love, money.

Higuchi: Bass.

Yagami: Money. (Because I think I’ll become rich)

Q8: Blood type and self-analysis

Sakurai: Type O.

Imai: Type O. Extremely optimistic. My handwriting is messy, but I’m second rank in Japanese calligraphy.

Hoshino: Type A. Quiet, sometimes I’m stupid so I can’t grasp things.

Higuchi: Type A. Humble.

Yagami: Type A. Genius!!

Q9: What do you think you’ll be doing in five years?

Sakurai: Doing lives.

Imai: Playing guitar in BUCK-TICK and doing my best.

Hoshino: I think I’ll become a celebrity.

Higuchi: I don’t know.

Yagami: I’ll become a professional top-class musician.

Q10: What does manliness mean to you?

Sakurai: Be kind to the weak, be tough to the strong. Always be cool.

Imai: There’s no such thing.

Hoshino: Being strong and being kind.

Higuchi: Men are tough.

Yagami: Be strong and kind.

Q11: A movie that recently moved me.

Sakurai: Oedipus No Yaiba.

Imai: I watched Friday the 13th Part 6 on video. That idiot Jason needs to be punished once and for all!

Hoshino: I haven’t watched any movies recently.

Higuchi: Hachiko Monogatari.

Yagami: Back to the Future. (I like time travel stuff)

Q12: A person you aspire to be like

Sakurai: My ideal self.

Imai: There isn’t one.

Hoshino: John Lennon.

Higuchi: There isn’t one.

Yagami: Eikichi Yazawa.

Q13: Please tell us the name of the celebrity who is closest to your ideal woman

Sakurai: [Didn’t provide an answer]

Imai: Probably Miss Oginome Yoko .

Hoshino: Miss Yumi Aso .

Higuchi: Yappy, Nori-P, Skippy, Noriko Sakai. [Nori-P was Noriko Sakai’s nickname]

Yagami: Kaori Torii .

Q14: What was the first record you ever bought?

Sakurai: Maybe Carol?

Imai: «Technopolis» by Yellow Magic Orchestra.

Hoshino: Beatles. (He was tricked by his brother)

Higuchi: I bought a Beatles record for my late brother for his birthday.

Yagami: «Let it be» by The Beatles. (In 2nd grade of elementary school)

Q15: What was your first impression when you met the members?

Sakurai: Imai → Weird!

                Hide → What a superficial guy.

                Yuta → This bastard.

                Anii → Is he okay?

Imai: You should never judge someone based on first impressions.

Hoshino: Sakurai → Scary but interesting.

                 Imai → The yellow-green Converse are impressive.

                 Higuchi → Caring guy.

                 Yagami Toll → Rock n Roller.

Higuchi: Hide → A tall guy.

                Imai → Quiet guy.

                Acchan → Scary guy.

                Brother → I don’t really know.

Yagami: Imai → A silent and mysterious guy.

                Hide → A good young man.

                Sakurai → Seems like a disciplined guy.

                U-TA → Cute baby.

Q16: What do you think is your role in the band?

Sakurai: A person who can get other members on board. Someone who expresses a variety of things.

Imai: Guitar man.

Hoshino: People say I’m someone who makes things run smoothly.

Higuchi: A talkative person.

Yagami: A man of high spirits.

Q17: Teach us how to flirt with a girl!

Sakurai: Don’t flirt.

Imai: Please teach me how to flirt with a girl!

Hoshino: I think it would be good to be honest.

Higuchi: I’m not good at that.

Yagami: I don’t know how to flirt.

Q18: Have you ever cried because of love?

Sakurai: I have.

Imai: I haven’t.

Hoshino: I cried when I was heartbroken.

Higuchi: I have.

Yagami: I have.

Q19: Favorite word or phrase

Sakurai: Atsushi, come out!

Imai: Freedom.

Hoshino: A boy’s heart.

Higuchi: The characters that aren’t difficult. [Japanese characters]

Yagami: Love saves the Earth. The BUCK-TICK Phenomenon.

Q20: What kind of person you cannot tolerate?

Sakurai: A frivolous person. Someone who acts overly familiar with you.

Imai: Stubborn and insincere people. 

Hoshino: Liars.

Higuchi: A selfish person.

Yagami: The guy who sold a BUCK-TICK sample copy to a second-hand record store before it was released. If we ever find him, we’ll beat him up.

Q21: What do you not want a girl to do?

Sakurai: Cheat.

Imai: Be fake. Murder, robbery.

Hoshino: Cheat.

Higuchi: I don’t want her to cry.

Yagami: Don't talk like a man!!

Q22: If you were a plant, what would you be? Why?

Sakurai: A black rose. You wouldn't think of them as morning glories or sunflowers, right?

Imai: A pansy. Yellow around the edges and black towards the root.

Hoshino: Bonsai. Because that's what people often say.

Higuchi: I don’t know.

Yagami: Pineapple. (Hairstyle)

Q23: What is your favorite number and why?

Sakurai: Odd numbers.

Imai: 4. I just like it.

Hoshino: 2. For all six years of elementary school, I always came in second place at sports day.

Higuchi: 1. Because it’s the first one.

Yagami: 3. It’s Nagasaki, Nagashima.

Q24: Someone you would like to meet and talk to

Sakurai: Me from tomorrow.

Imai: Kiyoshiro Imawano, Beat Takeshi, John Lydon.

Hoshino: John Lennon.

Higuchi: Nori-P. [Noriko Sakai]

Yagami: Yuming. [Yumi Matsutoya]

Q25: Any final words!

Sakurai: Let’s make some noise together again!

Imai: We’ll keep on doing our best, so please come to our live show.

Hoshino: BUCK-TICK is immortal.

Higuchi: I’m Yuta.

Yagami: I think the genius group BUCK-TICK looked great at Madison Square Garden!

[all-you-need-is-paul-mccartney]

Do You Want To Know A Secret (Teen!George Harrison x Teen!Lennon!Reader)

A/N: Hello, Happy Easter! I'm posting another oneshot, because why not? I feel like it could have been a little better than what I wrote, but I was in a bit of a rush to get it out. Who doesn't love some George?

Summary: It's 1961. You're John's sister and he refuses to let you talk to anyone in his band (and vice versa) despite your house being their practice location. George scores some alone time with you one day, and sings you a little song he composed for you.

WARNINGS: SUGGESTIVE BEHAVIOUR; the reader is pretty confident in this oneshot. Mentions of sex, but nothing further than a heated make out session/ neck kissing really occurs in this. Swearing, probably, but I could be wrong. George starts out shy but he is not by the end. There are probably some typos as well oops.

This one is T rated, but just read at your own risk because as mentioned, sex is discussed

It was 1961, a relatively warm Friday evening after dinner, where an eighteen year old George Harrison was accompanied by a nineteen year-old Paul McCartney, on the way to the Lennon household.

Band practice was that night, the newly renamed "Beatles" preparing for their next gig at the Cavern Club just that following evening. George had his guitar case in hand, and Paul, his base, as they walked and talked.

John's house could be spotted from where the two were now, and George, who was talking in that moment, lost train of thought when he spotted someone just outside the front door.

That someone was you. John's little sister. Aged eighteen; like George.

George could feel his heart fluttering as he watched you move around the front garden, watering can in hand as you tended to the little flowers in the window planters.

"Don't stare," Paul lightly chided in a sing-song tone, wagging his finger at George when he came back down to earth, cheeks flush at the idea of having been caught looking.

"But look at her," George groaned, hand gesturing towards you haphazardly before dropping it down helplessly at his side. "Just look at how perfect--"

"And off limits," Paul added quickly.

"... she is," George sighed as he finished his sentence, a rather upsetting frown on his face. The boys had since halted walking, making sure to be far enough away that you weren't in earshot of their conversation.

"Look, Harry," Paul rested a hand on the younger boy's shoulder in comfort. "I know how you feel. I'd be lying if I said I didn't think she was a looker, y'know?"

Paul and George glanced over at you for a moment, before he continued.

"... but if I had a sister, and three lads who couldn't keep their eyes off her, I couldn't say I wouldn't be doing what Lenny's doing right now."

George knew that Paul was right. As much as he hated it, John loved you very much, and was cautious of any guy trying to be near you, especially now that you were a young adult, and not some child.

Every time the band gathered at John's house, everyone seemed to be under a microscope-- including you. The boys weren't allowed to talk to you, and you couldn't even look at anyone without your brother hollering at you to get upstairs, or to refocus back to your homework, or whatever task you had at hand.

But in moments like this, where the protective older brother wasn't around, George took every chance he could to greet you with a smile on his face.

And he wasn't going to stop now.

"I get it, mate. I just... there's something about her." That's the simplest George could have explained it to Paul. He wasn't about to disclose that he dreamt of you almost every night, or that he relished in the moments of excitement and anxiety of being able to see you, if only for five seconds out of his entire week.

And he certainly would not have told him about the songs he was composing; his muse being you, of course.

It was all just one giant secret, and as much as George wanted to tell you, all he thought of were downsides in result of revealing such a thing to you.

George thought that you, for starters, were leaps and bounds out of his league, he was scared of being laughed at, and he would have been absolutely horrified if John were to ever find out.

The negatives drastically outweighed the positives, so he was better to keep his mouth shut.

George and Paul continued their trek to the building, and when they finally made it to the walkway leading to the door, you turned your head, smiling gently and waving to them once you realized who it was.

"Good afternoon, lads," you greeted politely, and George nearly melted at the sound of your voice.

"Hello, Miss Lennon," the boys responded in unison. George cringed a little at that, pushing through the door with Paul following close behind. As much as he wanted to stick around, he knew it would have been too risky.

And thank God he made made that choice. John was waiting for them in the main foyer, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. He didn't seem too happy, but he wasn't quite pissed off, either; almost as if he were in limbo of the two.

"'Bout time yous showed up. Me n' Pete've been waiting forever. C'mon, now." John waved his hand as he headed for the basement stairs, and the boys wordlessly continued on so they could begin their practice. George only looked over his shoulder once before descending the steps, hoping to have caught just one more glimpse of you, but to no avail.

"We have a show tomorrow, and you boys decided to be a quarter of an hour late!" John complained on as he threw his guitar strap over his shoulder. Pete was in the corner of the room on his drum set just shaking his head as he grabbed his drumsticks and tapped a little on his instrument. he must have been there for a while already.

Paul and George hurriedly grabbed out their instruments, apologizing so the older boy's complaints would cease. "As long as you're ready to play now, I don't care."

John always got sort of tense when the other three boys were over, hyper-focussed on keeping you away from them and vice versa. He was more or less worried about Paul trying to flirt with you, so a lot of John's poor behaviour stemmed from that.

Little did he know that it was actually George who'd fallen head over heels for you.

But that wasn't something to worry about in that moment. What was important was that practice began, and that they had to see improvement before their show just that following night.

Practice was going well. They had been at it for nearly an hour at that point, and the more they worked, the more pleased each boy was with the sound. They took a brief pause for some water, and John was rifling through his pile of lyrics sitting on a table in the corner of the room, trying to decide which one to practice next.

As George finished the last drop of water in his glass, John piped up, "I don't have all my songs here. Must've left them in my room."

"Which ones?" George asked, empty glass still in-hand. "I'm running up for a refill, might as well grab that for you as well."

"I think I left them on my desk at the side. You sure you don't want me running up?"

George swatted his hand as he started for the stairs. "Don't worry 'bout it. Be back in a jiff."

George hopped up the stairs, leaving his glass on the kitchen counter next to the sink before moving down the main foyer. He paused at the front door to peek out the window to see if you were still outside, but he didn't see you from where he was standing. He sighed gently before turning and making his way up to the second floor.

George made his way down to John's room at the end of the hallway. It was the only room with the door open, and before he even made it into the room, he could see the pile of lyrics on the desk, right where John said they'd be.

He picked up the pile, shuffling through them and counting the pages as he did so. He took one more brief glance around the room to make sure he wasn't missing anything else. When he decided this was all he needed, he turned on his heel and headed out to the hallway.

George was just about to make it to the stairs when he felt someone take hold of his arm, and swiftly tug him into one of the other rooms. The moment was a blur for him, and it took him a second to piece together what happened. He was standing in the middle of the room-- your room.

And you were only three feet away from him, back against the door, and cheeks glowing pink.

"Hello," you smiled gently, and George had no clue what to say, pages clutched tightly against his chest as his brain swirled with millions of thoughts.

"Hi," he squeaked, face burning in humiliation at his flustered state, but he was in your room, for Christ's sake. Your room! He had no clue what to say to you, mouth hanging open as he tried to search his brain for some other words.

"Look, I know we're not supposed to be doing this," you expressed, and George could feel his heart doing violent flips in his chest, especially when you pushed yourself off the door to take a step or two closer to him. This was the longest conversation he had with you, to date.

"Johnny would kill me if he knew I had a boy in my room, you know," you took a moment to pause, and all George could do was nod his head in agreement, intoxicated by the way you walked, and the way you talked. There was a hint of something in your voice... but the boy couldn't quite place what it was. Yearning? That couldn't be right... could it?

"But where's the fun in that, huh?" You asked, hands clasped behind your back, eyes staring right back into his, and George couldn't help but break his gaze first, utterly intimidated by your confidence. His eyes fixated to the dress you were wearing, and he could see a playful smile dancing on your lips in his peripheral.

"... You like what you see, Georgie?" You asked lowly after a moment, and his stare shot back up to your face again, certain his legs were numb. The nickname rolled off your tongue so effortlessly, so perfectly. The things it was doing to him...

"I..." he could barely speak, breaths ragged. Not one coherent thought was at the forefront of his brain, other than one simple word.

"Pretty." Your smile was a little more genuine now after he said that, and you reached a hand up to tuck a little strand of hair behind your ear.

"You think I'm pretty?"

George just nodded again. It was only now that he realized how much shorter you were compared to him, as you were only a foot away from him; the closest you'd ever been. He was looking down at you, but you were, in no way, intimidated by him. It was actually quite the opposite.

"You know, Georgie, you're pretty handsome, yourself," you professed, smiling wider as George's face burned even hotter.

He couldn't even thank you, scared of what would have happened if he tried to utter any kind of response to you. You reached out to rest a hand on his arm, and your smile faltered just a little.

"You're really tense... am I making you uncomfortable?" George's eyes widened, swallowing nervously as he shook his head 'no' as quickly as he could. He didn't want-- whatever this was-- to stop. The sincere upturn of your lips returned, and George couldn't help but flit his gaze down to your lips.

If only he had as much confidence as you, he might have just dipped down to have a taste...

"Look, I don't wanna keep you any longer. I know Johnny's gonna be looking for you soon." You thought for a moment before mentioning, "usually after you boys leave, he's down there for another hour or so practicing his own songs. Come back and see me after, yeah? Get to know each other a little more?" You raised an eyebrow expectantly, and George nodded his head again.

"Okay," he managed to whisper, resulting in you rising to your toes, and wordlessly pecking him on the cheek.

He felt like he was dreaming.

"Run along now, before they get suspicious!"

George's feet, though seemingly glued to the floor moments before, took off quickly, opening the door, and disappearing out into the hallway, shutting it closed behind him. As soon as he was on his own, he sighed heavily, the rush of oxygen in his lungs making him feel light-headed.

For someone who seemed so innocent in the open, around others, George could never have guessed how much of a minx you were behind closed doors. One part of him was still in denial that his interaction with you was even real, let alone meant to be flirtatious in any way...

But man, he would have been stupid not to take you up on your offer. It was just another hour he had to spend practicing, and he'd be right back in there, hopefully earning another kiss on the cheek from you.

George looked at the lyric papers in his hands one last time before sighing one more time, and going back downstairs. He passed his forgotten water glass in the kitchen, mind on an entirely different planet.

He returned to the basement, handing John the papers. He thanked the younger boy, pausing for a second to watch him move to grab his guitar.

"Where's your glass, Harry?"

George tensed when John asked that, hand on the neck of the guitar.

"... Left it upstairs,"  he responded.

"Thought you were grabbing a refill?" John's inquiries had George grasping for what to say next, but he was quick enough.

"Refilled the glass up there, drank it, and figured I'd be fine for the rest of practice."

His confession, though a lie, was believable enough for John, who just nodded his head slowly and drew his attention to the papers after a second, discussing which song they were going to practice next.

George just flew under the radar then, and he mentally cursed himself for being so careless. He look a quick glance at Paul, who was giving him a look; almost as if he knew something happened up there.

But he would never know the truth.

The shared glance fell apart when John advised everyone to get into position for playing, and they did just that.

The hour seemed to drag, George felt; but as time moved on, the more anxious he began to feel again. By the time everyone was packing up to leave, he was almost vibrating with anxiety.

He wanted to be close to you again so badly, but he didn't want to make a fool of himself as he had in the last interaction.

Pete, Paul, and George wished John a good night, and climbed the stairs to the main floor in that order, leaving John alone to continue practicing. Pete left Paul and George in the main hallway with a little wave, and a short "see yous tomorrow," before taking off out the front door.

Paul grabbed the door handle next and turned back to George, who stood in one spot a little too far away from the door.

"... Not walking home with me?" He asked in confusion, and when George didn't have a disposable answer, the pieces seemed to be finally clicking for the other boy.

He opened his mouth as if to lecture George on how bad of an idea sticking around would be, but instead, he tightened his jaw, shook his head, and waved to him.

"G'night Harry," he tossed a little wave out before taking off into the dusk.

He was alone now.

That could only mean one thing.

George eyed the stairs, knowing that if he turned on his heel and walked out right then, it'd be one of the biggest mistakes in his life. But he couldn't deny the fact that he was nervous; intimidated by you, and your assertive, rather sexy behaviour from earlier.

He took a deep breath, grabbing the railing, and hiking up the stairs slowly.

He stood outside your bedroom door much longer than he would have liked to admit, taking deep breaths and reciting words over and over again in his brain, as if this whole interaction were scripted-- as if he knew what was going to happen.

When he finally composed himself properly, he rapped on the door gently, hoping you would hear his presence on the other side. When you finally came around to open the door, his heart skipped a beat.

"I was beginning to think you weren't coming back," you voiced softly, leaning against the doorframe, handle still in hand. You sounded a little relieved, almost, seeing the boy on the other side of the threshold.

You were in your pyjamas, a set that showed enough skin on your arms and legs that it made George, red-faced, shake his head to reactivate his brain, which pretty much short circuited.

"You goin' to bed?" His words left his mouth faster than he realized he was even saying them. Sure, it was getting late out, but would you have really changed if you were expecting company?

"Well, that depends. Will you be joining me?" You were so quick on your feet in response that it honestly impressed George, the heat returning to his face as he tried to think of what to say next, not daring to drop his line of sight below your chin.

"I'm only teasing you," you laughed after a moment of watching George squirm, pushing off the doorframe and allowing him to enter your bedroom again. As he passed you, he caught sight of you gazing up his body, shrugging and adding a little "... maybe," to the end of your sentence.

You were such a tease, and George set his guitar case off to the side, facing away from you, so he could hide just how giddy and flushed he was just being in there with you again. He rose to his feet and turned to face you. You were only a few feet away from him again, eyes on him intensely, smile still present.

"... I hope you know just how glad I am that you came back," you expressed again, honestly. George raised an eyebrow at that, shoving his hands in his pockets. He wanted to tear his gaze from yours so badly, but your face was just so gorgeous to look at, and he didn't want to be caught looking at your outfit again; he knew some more teasing would surely ensue if he was caught staring.

"Why wouldn't I come back?" George replied bashfully, shrugging his shoulders a little. "Wouldn't miss a chance to be here, with you, for the world."

Your stare softened at his words, beaming as your own cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink. George wasn't sure you were really expecting something like that coming from him. "... You really mean that?"

George desperately wanted to elaborate a little further, but he just settled on giving you a little nod, smiling back shyly at your question.

"Maybe I thought I might've scared you off for being so forward earlier," you admitted timidly as you turned on your heel. You took a seat at the edge of your bed, and George surveyed your movements, eyebrows lifting a little when you reached out to pat the empty space next to you on the mattress after a moment.

"Care to take a seat?"

George accepted the invitation, and you felt the bed dip when he sat down. His eyes cast down to the floor, face still red at the idea of being in your presence; having your attention.

"You know, Georgie... my brother can be pretty stupid sometimes. But making this house the place for band practice, I think, was one of the best decisions he's ever made."

His eyes met yours again at your words, and you shrugged one of your shoulders.

"I'd be lying if I said I haven't been dying to talk to you. Or get to know you. You seem so kind, and you're so attractive, and John wants to keep you away from me, and I'm so sick of him deciding what's best for me."

Your eyes cast down between the both of you for a moment, and George could feel his heart trying to leap out of his chest. His fingertips felt numb, mouth hanging slack as you continued your profession.

"I knew the only way to get close and alone with you was to bring you in here. And I saw the way you were looking at me earlier, and I had to get you to come back."

It felt like the wind was knocked out of his lungs. Was he really that obvious when he was in here last?

"It's thrilling... having a boy like you in my room, while John's clueless out there as to what we're doing. What we could be doing..."

George's mind was going places he was never expecting it to that evening, especially with the help of you voicing it aloud. He was in utter disbelief of what you were telling him, convinced he'd fallen asleep throughout the day, and he was caught in some blissful dream he wished would never end.

"I feel a little selfish, springing so much information on you at once... but every time I see you, I desperately want to be with you; and today, I had to jump to take that chance. I couldn't wait another week, another day."

You smiled sheepishly, not really expecting George to say anything after that. You were honestly just trying to get your thoughts off your chest, and now that you had, you felt a lot better. You were also pleased with the little look of shock on George's face. You liked doing that to him.

You decided to break his trance by nodding over to his guitar case sitting on the floor. "So... You have plans to serenade me, Georgie?"

Your question definitely brought him back down to earth, and he took a quick glance at the case before looking back to you. Your confession was still ringing clear in his head like a bell. He felt he didn't have the words to admit his feelings as clearly as you had right on the spot...

He did, however, have the words pre-planned as lyrics, in a multitude of original songs he wrote for you.

"... I do, actually," he agreed, standing up to open his case and retrieve his instrument. George was feeling a little more excited now, knowing any girl these days would swoon at the idea of having music written for them, and he just hoped you would too.

He returned to the bed, deciding against tossing the strap over his shoulder. He faced you so you could hear and see every little thing he did. He was at least glad he didn't get performance anxiety on the guitar.

He gently strummed out a few different notes, deciding in his head which song he wanted to perform for you. One in particular stuck out in his mind, and he couldn't deny that it was the perfect choice.

He was a little worried about how you'd feel about his playing, and the lyrics, but he wanted to show you that he could be confident about this, especially since he was nearly certain now that his feelings were reciprocated. But he had to play it cool.

"It is a work in progress. I've only half of it written, but I really think you'll like it," George explained to you before allowing the notes to fill the air around you both.

"Listen,

Do you want to know a secret?

Do you promise not to tell?

Closer,

Let me whisper in your ear,

Say the words you long to hear,

I'm in love with you."

It was only then that you realized this was the first time you'd ever seen, or heard George play. This beautiful genius was being hidden away from you this whole time, and it was a blessing to see his work up close.

His left hand slid along the fretboard so easily, thumb and fingers on his right tickling the strings as if it were second nature to him. You couldn't decide which hand you wanted to look at. His digits were skillful on the instrument, and George made sure to almost exaggerate his movements to impress you.

He pretty much had you in a trance, now, daydreaming about what else those hands could do...

"I've known a secret for a week, or two,

Nobody knows, just we two,"

George had been worried the whole song about messing up the notes, eyes so focused on where his fingers were going... But he glanced up at you, realizing how hypnotized you were, like putty in his hands, and he decided there was nothing to worry about.

He decided to sing right to you now, soft eyes on your face, and when your field of view locked with his, he knew he wouldn't dare break the stare.

"Listen,"

This wasn't a song anymore.

"Do you want to know a secret?"

This was his confession.

"Do you promise not to tell?"

His way of showing you what you really meant to him.

"Closer,"

He wasn't clouded by any insecurities or doubt anymore.

"Let me whisper in your ear,"

Your gaze flitted down just enough to watch George's canines poke out from behind his lips as he sung, and your eyelashes lowered at the sight of his beautiful mouth.

"Say the words you long to hear,"

Your mind was absorbing the lyrics like a sponge in water, every single word eliciting a feeling so strong in your heart, you could hear it pumping in your ears.

"I'm in love with you."

George hummed away as he played the final notes, a little smile still on his lips when he let the last chord ring out into a room of silence.

When that stillness remained for a moment, George couldn't help but ask with a little bit of hesitation, "Well... what do you thi--"

He couldn't even get the rest of his question out before you darted at him, lips smashing into his as if he were about to disappear forever.

He let out a little surprised hum before he pulled the guitar out from between the both of you, and you took it as an opportunity to push your body closer to him, arms wrapping around his collarbone.

He blindly set the guitar down to lean it against your bed, and when he let go of the neck of the instrument, his hands went for your hips, squeezing your sides gently before pulling you right up into his lap. your actions bloomed a type of self-assurance within him he had no idea he could even possess.

It was your turn to squeal excitedly, but George's lips on yours muffled the sound. One of his hands snaked around to the small of your back before it slipped under your shirt, his palm dragging up your spine. His fingertips took note of each vertebrae it dipped up and down into, like the frets on his guitar.

This, George decided, was better than a dream. This whole situation unfolding around him made him feel as though he died and went to heaven.

He pulled his lips away from yours, free hand reaching up to grip your chin and directing you to tilt your head up. His lips suckled on the side of your neck, and the sound coming from your mouth was absolutely euphoric to him. But he removed his palm from your chin to cover your mouth, his other hand still feeling and memorizing every curve and dip in your back.

"You must be quiet, Love. Wouldn't want your brother knowing about all this fun we're having up here, eh?" Your eyes rolled back at his words, groaning into his hand as you felt George drag his teeth gently along the column of your throat.

Knowing you were enjoying this as much as he was only brought more confidence to his actions, and he let his tongue poke out to leave a large, wet kiss on your collarbone.

You were squirming in his lap, fingers sliding up into his hair and tugging so he knew he was doing everything right.

He groaned at the friction you were creating at the hips, and he pulled away from your neck to kiss your lips again after removing his hand and placing it on the back of your neck.

You swallowed his moans as you continued to grind in his lap, but both of your movements paused when you heard the guitar come crashing down to the carpeted floor. It wasn't as loud as it could have been, but it was loud enough.

You both kept an ear out, knowing that might have caught the attention of someone downstairs, and when you began to hear footsteps shuffling around, you began to panic a little, eyes wide and darting back to George, whose face was flushed from the assault of your kisses, and hair was a tangled mess from your fingers.

"You gotta hide," you rushed out quietly, and though you tried to climb out of George's lap, his hands kept you planted right where you were.

"What are you doing?!"

"... What if I didn't?" He challenged you a little, a daring smirk at his lips.

"Had you not been so naughty, with all that moving and teasing, the guitar wouldn't have fallen, eh? And we wouldn't be in this situation at all." The points of his canines were showing again, and you groaned at his words.

"George, I'd love to continue this, but John will kill you if we're caught, and we can't do this if you're dead!"

"Well then we just won't get caught," he responded simply. He was blinded by desire, his confidence seeping out of him like sap from a tree as he placed his mouth back on your neck.

The footsteps stopped outside your door, and you both heard a knock, George not showing any sign of stopping his actions.

"Don't come in, I'm-- I'm not wearing any clothes!!" It was the first thing you could blurt out to whoever was on the other side.

"Oh, baby, that'd be a sight to see," George mumbled against your skin, pulling your top down just enough so he could suck a dark spot just above your left breast so you could easily hide it away, and you sighed heavily at the contact, face burning red.

"Just heard a loud thud. Just making sure all is okay," it was John on the other side; completely oblivious to the actual scene occurring on the other side of the door.

"Yeah, a book from my shelf was knocked over! N-nothing to worry about!"

George grabbed your chin again when you were finished talking, shoving his tongue right into your mouth as you both heard John respond with, "oh, okay. Just making sure you're alright. Have a good night."

You listened closely as the footsteps quieted, and when there was no sign of anyone else on the second floor, let alone at the door, you pulled away from George's kiss.

"Well... how was that?"

"Risky," you replied, a rather unimpressed look on your face as you unraveled your arms from George's shoulders and crossed them over your chest.

"Well, you don't have to worry about him anymore, Love," he tried to give you another kiss, but you placed your fingers against his lips. It was your turn to smirk mischievously.

"You know what, Georgie... I think you've had enough action for tonight."

You could see the smug grin fall right off George's face as you removed your hand. Surely you had to have been joking. But when you pushed a little to get off him, his arms fell to his side, a little pout on his face.

"You're serious? Love, you got me all hot and bothered..."

"George, you really thought we were going to go all the way tonight with other people in the house?" You laughed out loud at that; and when you said it like that, he would have had to agree that it did sound ridiculous.

"Trust me, Georgie, I want to," you placed a hand on his cheek in comfort, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead, and he looked up at you as if he was the shy boy you interacted with just an hour before.

"But we both know doing that in an empty house would be far better than having to keep quiet about it, huh?"

All George could do was imagine that situation, eyes drifting shut, and tilting his head into your caressing hand.

"You're such a damn tease," he mumbled, eyes blinking back open after a moment.

"All good things come to those who wait," was all you said, leaving one, sweet kiss on his lips before pulling away, and nodding to his guitar. "We better pack you up and send you home."

You watched as George situated himself, placing his guitar back in the case, closing it and picking it up. You wrapped your arms around him gently, planting another kiss on his cheek.

"By the way... I think that song was beautiful," you whispered to him, and when you pulled away to see him smiling at you, you couldn't help but match the grin on your own lips.

"See you next week? Same time?"

"You don't even have to tell me twice," George responded with, and you just had to lean in for one more smooch on the lips, to which he eagerly reciprocated.

He then opened your window up, and took a step out. You watched as he climbed down the corner of the house slowly, and before he took off down the road, he blew you a kiss, to which you mimicked catching with your hand.

As George headed home, the sun now fallen over the horizon, those intimate moments he shared with you were at the very forefront of his mind. His hands could still feel your bare skin under his fingertips, and his mouth tingled as he remembered what it was like to have your lips on his.

He was just craving for the next moment he had alone with you.

______________________________________

A/A/N: And there we are! hope you all enjoy this, and I hope your Easter weekend was full of sun, and fun! Please let me know if you want to read more so I know it' worth it to post!

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water in your hands

joel miller x f!reader

rating: E (18+ ONLY, MDNI. you will be blocked if you don’t have age/range in your bio)

word count: 9.7k (she's long but hopefully good?)

summary:

You are sick, and you're married, and you might be dyin' But you're holdin' me like water in your hands…

Joel will only end up failing you. You deserve better than him. He needs you to move on, to give him peace of mind. So, he gets married to someone else, to try to force you away. Except he just can’t let you go, and you always come back when he calls. Like a dog with a bird at his door.

warnings: NO USE OF Y/N, cheating (it’s moon song y’all), marriage, age difference (joel is canon age, reader is 20s/30s), use of pet names, discussions of water/drowning, ANGST, hurt/comfort, unprotected sex, fingering, praising, lowkey possessive joel & reader, undefined relationship, alcohol use, mentions of john lennon cause he needs his own warning, joel is messy and selfish

author’s note: this is my first time writing any sort of fiction in literal years, but i couldn’t help but try to write this idea cause i'm a sad girl who wishes joel miller was real! apologies for any typos/errors, i am the actual worst at proofreading (see, my master's diss that i read at least 50 times and still had typos in the submission). any interaction is appreciated <3

PART II HERE

dividers from @saradika

Fresh snow had fallen this morning, wiping away some of the evidence of daily life here in Jackson. The air was biting, you work your sleeves over ungloved hands to keep the chill away, cheeks flushed. Snow crunches under your boots while you rush from your house to work at the Tipsy Bison, Jackson’s bar. Because of course one of the first things restored in the commune, in the middle of the apocalypse, was the one place with all the alcohol. Not that you were complaining, it gave you a job in town that you enjoyed; you got to pass time by being around people and making conversation, something you didn’t get in the small cottage that you occupied by yourself.

Keeping your eyes trained on the ground as you walk, careful to watch out for patches of ice, you only look up when you hear your name called. It’s the familiar voice of your boss; at least, you call him your boss cause he makes your shifts, but he hates to feel any sort of claim over the place since, y’know, the whole communist thing.

Tommy Miller stands near the steps up to the bar, clad in his signature look of denim and chambray, denim’s sister (the man wore a Canadian tuxedo nearly every day, you kept a tally). He’s waving you over, and before you can greet him, your attention is pulled from Tommy to the pair standing next to him. 

A man, looking slightly older than Tommy but eerily similar with light grays sprinkled in his brown hair, donning a suede winter coat that was fitted across broad shoulders. His beard was patchy, not covering much of his strong jaw. Hooked nose, syrup brown eyes, olive skin looking pale from the season. There was a scar on his right temple, and other healed injuries dotting around the exposed skin. He’s handsome.

The young girl next to him just reached the man’s shoulders at her full height, bundled up in layers of sweatshirts and an open coat that didn’t look very warm. Her beanie framed her face along with her brown hair, the look on her face one of obvious teenage annoyance. She looked barely fifteen.

Tommy started introductions, barely getting a word out before the mystery man cut him off.

“I’m Joel, Tommy’s older brother. And this is Ellie.” He gestures to the girl and she gives you a nod. Joel removes a glove and extends his hand. You meet halfway, feeling the need to apologize for your cold skin chilling his own much warmer. Work-worn fingers wrap around to meet the skin on the backside of your hand. Your mind wanders to how those hands would feel in other places like -- 

Tommy’s voice breaks up your thoughts, “They’ve been traveling for a few months now to come here to Jackson.”

A smile crosses your face, grip not yet leaving Joel’s. His mouth ticks up slightly to one side.

“Welcome to Jackson, Mr. Miller, and you too, Ellie. It’s nice to put a face to the brother that Tommy’s been telling me stories about.”

“Please, just Joel. And it’s nice to meet you too, I hope he’s only told the good stuff.” Before you can respond, Ellie quips in.

“For months you have refused to tell people your name and now the first pretty girl in this perfect fucking town and you’ve given it twice.” She rolls her eyes so hard they disappear into her skull. Been there, Ellie. The attitude of a teenager is universal, even in the apocalypse.

Joel’s head snaps to Ellie and he grits out under his breath a little too loudly, “Ellie, quit cursing.”

Blush creeps across his face and you note that he didn’t say anything about Ellie knowing he thought you were pretty. Joel breaks eye contact and lets your hand go.

“Alright, hon, we should be on our way. I won’t subject you to any more of my older brother. He’s not much of a conversationalist,” Tommy teases. Joel gives Ellie a run for her money with the intensity of his eye roll.

Waving to the newcomers, you step back to head up the stairs. Out of the corner of your eye, you swear you see Joel take the smallest step towards you, about to follow like a puppy. 

“See you later, boss. Nice to meet you again, Ellie and Joel, enjoy your tour of our perfect fucking town.”

Joel glances back over his shoulder to watch you walk into the swinging doors. Lord, if you could read his thoughts. He knew he was in trouble the moment he saw that damn smile.

The last few weeks have been torture to Joel. He and Ellie had been back in Jackson for about a month now, getting settled in their new normal. However, it wasn’t the lifestyle change that was anguishing him.

He’d thought of you a few times after he’d met you that winter; remembering your smile when Ellie was quietly resting against his back on the horse, a fever dream of you when he was in the basement of that abandoned house, a rush of nerves when Tommy brought him to the bar for the first time since he’d been back. He was infatuated with you, and now that he’s living in the same town as you, it’s gotten worse. Foolish mind daydreams of you and him together, feeling like a teenager again with the way you make his knees weak. He’s been careful not to spend much time alone with you, reminding himself that he shouldn’t let someone like you get involved with someone like him. All he’d do was fail you, fail to give you a good life. Words were carved into his skull at this point:

You’re too broken, too bruised, too scarred, and full of guilt - you’re going to fail her, too..

The small two-bedroom cottage diagonal to his and Ellie’s house was yours, and the proximity wasn’t helping his situation. And not only were you his neighbor, but you worked at the place where Joel spent a good chunk of his free time - the bar. He’d get drinks with Tommy or other guards after a shift, and that evolved to going by himself in hopes to see you and drown his guilt over those hopes (among a lot of other things).

It’s these nights when he’s become a bit looser with his self-inflicted rules around you. He occupies the stool at the end of the bar, stealing glances as you help other customers. His index finger rims the dry glass in front of him. You approach with that same damn smile aimed at him. It’s a dangerous combination along with the liquor, both fuzz his rationality.

“Another one, Mr. Miller?” you nod to his glass, reaching out to take it from him. Soft fingertips brush over his skin, sending a jolt of energy up his arm. 

He clears his throat and answers, “Now, darlin’, I think I told you to call me Joel. Actually, at this point, I think it would be classified as begging. Mr. Miller makes me feel old.”

Throwing your head back with a laugh, the skin of your neck is exposed. His tongue involuntarily wets his lips when he thinks of leaving a mark there.

“Feel old? You are old, Miller,” he fakes offensive, eyebrows raised, “Aw, c’mon Joel, you know I’m just kiddin’. You’ve still got it. That silver fox thing you got goin’ on really does it for women ‘round here.”

He wants to be bold enough to ask if it’s doing anything for you, but instead, he huffs a laugh and shakes his head in disbelief, taking the two fingers of whiskey you poured.

“And how do you know that, darlin’? Haven’t had many offers for courtship since I got here.”

“I work in the bar. Women get drunk and spill their every thought. Including that the new guy with the daughter is hot,” you lean over the edge of the bar top, face less than a foot in front of him. Your eyes shift down to his lips. “Plus, I might encourage the conversation with my own thoughts.”

That smile again, except now it’s more of a smirk. He sips his drink, capturing the lingering alcohol with a lick of his lips. Your eyes go again, watching his tongue.

“I’m glad I can be such a riveting topic of conversation for you, sweetheart. Hope it’s good thoughts only.”

“Wouldn’t say the thoughts I have about you are good, Joel,” he swallows hard hearing the flirtation in your comment, feeling his jeans tighten.

Snapped out of hazy judgment, he resurfaces from the alcoholic tides; the rules he has about you act as a life preserver for him to cling to before getting caught in your rip current.

Joel throws back the rest of his drink, standing from the stool. He needs to get out of here if he wants to keep his promise to himself. Well, not that he wants to, but it’s what’s right. He can’t get you involved with his broken self. Your face drops slightly at the sight of him leaving, and part of him wants to lean over the bar to grab your face and kiss you hard in reassurance that he has the same kind of thoughts. But he can’t.

So he wishes you goodnight and walks home, angry with himself for nearly crossing the line. But he can’t help but think of your smile, and those flirty comments, as he tries to fall asleep.

You’re wide awake. Every time you close your eyes, your brain starts looping your conversation with Joel. Fingers rub circles in your temples, cursing to yourself as you get the replay of his extremely quick exit after you’d said you have…not so good thoughts about him.

The only indication you’d gotten from him that he felt any type of way toward you is his periodic visits to the bar on his own, spending the night chatting and laughing with you. You’d sometimes find yourself meeting his stare when you’d see each other across the street from your porches or in town.

But he’d never made a move, hell the most he’d touch you was to take a glass of whiskey or beer bottle from you. So why did you think he would suddenly reciprocate when you’d made openly flirty comments?

You needed some air. Just to clear your head of this embarrassing play-by-play. You pull yourself to stand and grab the sweatshirt at the end of your bed before heading out.

Jackson had the sort of late spring, early summer climate that happened to be your favorite. Warm, mildly humid days that brought the colors back after winter, and chillier nights, the right temperature to keep your cotton sleeping shorts on and add an extra layer up top to keep you warm.

Without thinking, you started towards the old barn on the edge of the residential area. The structure had seen better days, mostly used for storage now, but the open field behind it had an incredible view of the sky at night. It was a place you loved to go when that deep, dull ache in your chest wouldn’t quit.

Gravel crunches softly under your feet, small pebbles slip out from under your soles with each step. Not remotely focused on what’s in front of you, it comes as a surprise when hands land on your biceps. Your knee-jerk reaction is to scream, but as you look from the ground to the person grabbing you, the sound dies in your throat when you meet chestnut eyes.

“Jesus, Joel, you scared the shit out of me! Hasn’t anyone told you, you can’t just go grabbing women at night? Well, at any time of the day, really.” Your voice is rasped into a whisper despite the fact that there’s not a soul around.

“Maybe you should be paying a bit more attention to your surroundings when you’re walking by yourself at night, sweetheart” Joel counters, mouth ticking up to the side as his drawl continues, “Don’t know who’s lurking in the shadows in little ol’ Jackson.”

“You’re apparently the only person lurking, and you’re not doing a very good job since you just came right up to me.”

“Couldn’t help myself, I guess. What’re you doin’ out here at this hour?”

Heat burns under the surface of your skin when Joel drops his hands from your arms, the sensation radiating throughout the rest of your body. “Couldn’t sleep. I was gonna go sit out in the field behind the barn for a bit, admire the moon.”

He lights up with the first genuine smile you’ve seen from him. He has the best poker face out of anyone you know, but a part of you hopes that he feels like he doesn’t need it around you.

“Mind if I join ya, darlin’? Might be nice to stargaze a bit.”

You have to hold back from nodding frantically, attempting to play it off as if you’re weighing your options, “I don’t mind at all. You can teach me about the stars.”

The walk over is quiet but comfortable. At the shabby split-rail fence, you lift your foot to the lowest rail and push off the ground to mount the barrier. Joel’s hand meets the small of your back to hold you steady. Heat emanates from the spot, fingertips brushing your sweatshirt. His warmth leaves you as you make it over, watching as he easily clears the fencing with one smooth movement.

“Any spot in particular?”

As an answer, you grab Joel’s hand. Nerves bubble in your stomach, two steps ahead with your arm outstretched behind. His larger strides are quick to close the gap, arms between your bodies with palms pressed together. His hand shifts in yours, fingers lacing with yours and curling around the outside of your smaller hand, his thumb skimming back and forth.

Steps slow at a small clearing in the tall, overgrown grass, settling down on the dewy ground. He lays back with you, not focusing on the stars right away. His eyes are a cooler shade in the moonlight, yet no warmth is lost in the way he looks as if he’d been waiting for this moment.

Suddenly aware of yourself under his stare, you lightly clear your throat and turn toward the sky. “Do you know a lot about astronomy? I never got to learn much, other than my brother teaching me how to find the north star to navigate.”

Joel’s attention moves to the stars, his voice coming out lower and softer than in the daylight, “I used to know a lot more. Did a lot of camping before and learned to find the major constellations. Taught Ellie some of ‘em, and now she’s got a few books on astronomy. She kept saying how she wanted to fly, go to space or the moon like Sally Ride.”

“She’d be a pretty badass astronaut.”

He laughs softly, nodding before his expression settles into one of reminiscence and guilt all muddled together.

“You’re not wrong,” he pauses shortly before continuing, “But, I think I can still remember most of the constellations. What’s that thing called where you’re assigned one when you’re born?”

“Astrology?”

“That’s it. I know where my constellation is. I’m a Libra, whatever that means.”

Joel lifts your joined hands, his index fingers extended as he traces out the shape of scales in the corner of the sky.

Pulling the limited memories you have from the book you’d found sitting on a shelf at home, you follow Joel’s finger, “Libras are supposed to be balanced, that’s the whole scales thing, I guess. And impartial, but sometimes indecisive. Oh, and charming.”

Joel nestles your hands back on the ground. “Balanced, impartial, and indecisive? Sounds a lil’ vague, darlin’. Not sure I’m believin’ the stars can tell you about your personality.”

“Well, they got the charming part right about you. You’re certainly a Southern gentleman, got ladies swooning left and right.”

“Nah, I don’t even notice ‘em. Too busy focused on someone I’m pretty charmed by myself.”

You let go of Joel’s hand, turning onto your side to face him. He mirrors you, and you take the chance to lean in. Lips touch together with a brush, breaths fanning over both of your faces as you wait for his response.

Joel sits up, weight resting on his elbow. Broad shoulders lean over to shift you onto your back, rich eyes never leaving you. His touch is confident, a large hand fully cups the side of your face. Fingers sprawl along your jaw, thumb on your cheekbone. His frame leans further over yours, lips hovering as his voice breaks the moment of silence in a rasp, “This okay?”

Your voice thick with anticipation answers, “Yes.”

His kiss sends ripples of tension over your body. Fingers curl into the fabric of his sleeves, feet press into the dewy earth, chest tightens with quickened beating, lips match his depth. He tastes minty from toothpaste, mixed with notes of the Tennessee whiskey he orders. It’s intoxicating, reminders of him to seep into your daily life.

Joel brings you closer with a hand in your hair. His tongue traces your lips, parting them to let him in. When his fingers leave the crown of your head, his touch floats over your body, caressing your waist, sprawling under your breast, and jumping to your exposed thigh. He’s pressing your skin back against your body as if you were going to flow out from under him.

His frame shifts over you, pulling him away and breaths mix from open-mouth exhales. Legs open and hands find purchase on his expansive shoulders, heat pooling at your center when his knees settle between yours.

“You’re so beautiful, darlin’,” Joel’s earthy tone sighs, his hands moving along your body with a rumble of satisfaction brewing out of his chest.

His touch surrounds your cheeks as if he was bringing water up to drink from his hands, only your lips are the means to quench his thirst. You moan into the deep kiss, finding a frantic rhythm together. Fingertips dance along his torso to reach the hem of his navy t-shirt.

Hot, humid kisses line your neck to the collar of your sweatshirt. Tugging at the fabric and slipping his hand underneath, you comply to get the material off. Your t-shirt follows in its wake, the chill of the ground and Joel’s touch spreading goosebumps on your skin.

You breathe out a moan at his teeth scraping the curve of your shoulder, hands pulling at his shirt. He follows the silent order, getting the soft cotton over his head.

His hips grind down, arousal flooding your core. Another moan slips at the feeling of Joel’s breath meeting a small peak on your chest, sucking the pebbled skin.

Hips jerk up against his bulge, Joel’s throaty groan cutting into the night.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so soft…”

He gives the same treatment to the opposite breast and large fingers hook in the waistband of your shorts, tugging lightly to ask permission.

“Touch me, please. Wanna feel you…”

Joel’s lips separate from the skin with a pop. Your shorts come off, Joel retaking his place between your velvety thighs.

His eyes worship your body, dark with lust but still harboring a warmth. A slight ache burns in your hips that you completely ignore when his knuckles brush up your covered slit.

There isn’t a single thought in his head that doesn’t revolve around you.

His fingers slide against the last piece of fabric covering you, feeling your wetness through it. Your delicate sounds encourage him, thumb finding your clit and rubbing slow circles. He watches for a moment, eyes catching your face as you whine.

“Joel, please…”

His teasing doesn’t cease. Instead, he removes his thumb from your clit, hooking his finger to pull your panties to the side and exposing your wetness to the chill of the night.

“Gonna have to tell me what you want, darlin’. Not a mind reader…” He grins as you huff out your frustration.

“Please, Jesus Christ, want your fingers inside of me…” you look at him impatiently as you wait for an answer.

Biting his lip to hold back a groan, he pulls your panties off to leave you completely naked under him. His mouth waters, taking you all in as his touch runs up your bent knees.

Two fingers gather your wetness, pressing harder circles into your clit. Your whimpers egg him on, slipping down to tease your entrance with one finger.

“Good girl. ‘M gonna make this pretty pussy come around my fingers.”

With a smirk, one finger slides into you. Moans fill the still air, the tightness of you around his middle finger making him stiffen. A second finger easily joins the first to work you open.

His name is repeated like a prayer when he hooks his fingers on the uptick, searching for that rough patch inside your walls.

“Fuck, Joel, feels so fucking good,” you writhe under his touch, the sight and sound of you falling apart making him ache. He uses the hand resting on your stomach as a temporary fix for himself, a deep moan interrupting the orchestra of your whimpers and wetness. He pulls his hand away from his jeans, the need to feel you come overpowering his own.

He moves in circles around clit while fingers work in and out quicker, wanton moans growing louder and higher in pitch to accompany the sounds of your drenched cunt.

“So tight around my fingers. Feels good, yeah? You gonna come for me, sweet girl?”

The sounds you make in response are lewd, pleasure overtaking you as you rasp out, “Joel, I-I’m-”

“I know, baby. Let it happen.”

His words push you over the edge, fingers nearly pushed out from how hard you clench around them. Moans flood his ears, and all he can focus on is making that feeling last for you.

Soft breaths return when you’ve recovered, hand finding him hard and working your palm. Fingers open his button and fly, shoving the fabric as far down as you can manage.

“You sure, darlin’? We don’t have to, watching you was enough for me.”

You make your way inside his jeans, fingers wrapping around his cock and stroking slowly. He’d never really been one to care about underwear in the middle of the apocalypse, and right now he was thanking his past, lazy self for the lack of barrier. A shudder ripples down his spine, your touch so much better than his own fist.

“‘M sure, baby. Need you inside of me,” he twitches in your loose grip at the request, pushing his pants down just far enough to free himself.

Nails scrape against his scarred chest, a moan escaping you as he guides the head of his cock through your slick before positioning himself at your entrance.

His eyes lock onto where your bodies meet as he enters with a gentle thrust, your nails biting into the skin under his collarbone. He looks for a second at your face, your nod permission for him to move once you’ve adjusted to the stretch. 

He nearly comes at the sight of you taking him fully, your tightness and warmth making the edges of his vision blur. “So, so good, baby…Feels so tight and warm and wet. Perfect, you’re perfect.”

Wetness pools around the base of him and onto the grass below, drenching the sound of skin meeting skin. He watches your eyes screw shut, whimpering as you take every thrust, “Fuck, Joel. Feel so full, ‘m close already.”

His hips work you harder, feeling that taut rope in his gut near its breaking point. One hand leaves your leg held against him, licking his thumb to make quick movements on your clit. His name tumbles from your lips in a high-pitched whine and your head presses back against the ground.

“Come for me, baby.”

Your walls grip him tighter and nearly knock the wind out of his lungs, your back arching off of the grass and nails biting into his shoulders. Eyes open when you settle, clouded and full of pleasure. His thrusts grow sloppy as he chases after his own high.

“Fuck, ‘m close. Feel so damn good.”

“Come for me, please Joel, wanna see you come.”

Your begging snaps that taut feeling in his gut; he quickly pulls out and replaces your warmth with his fist. His chin falls to his chest with a guttural moan as he watches his spend cover your lower stomach, glistening in the soft light. Warmth spreads across his body in a tingle, pleasure clearing his head.

They say drowning is one of the more peaceful ways to go. Once the first few breaths of water fill your lungs, your muscles relax and there’s a warmth that washes over you. Then you pass out and everything goes black. It’s not comfortable, but the tranquility makes it better.

Joel feels like he’s drowned in you, muscles relaxed, warm peace in his chest. His vision is black for a moment, breaths deep in recovery. His eyes adjust to see moonlight flooding your face and body in cool blue. His hands start roaming again, softer this time. Pulling out of you slowly, your whimper meets his small hiss.

He lays you on your side to face him, your form molding like fresh clay.

“You okay?”

Your eyes close contently when his fingers brush your hair from your face, humming, “Fantastic. I wanted that to happen ever since I met you.”

His heart beats quicker at your confession, his mind immediately repeating those words - you’re going to fail her, too.

He only holds you closer in response, and by the time you’re both dressed again and walking back to your street, he knows that he can’t let this continue.

Guilt harbored in his chest over forcing himself to avoid you for weeks after you’d given him exactly what he longed for. He didn’t want you to think that he saw you as a one-night stand, it had felt like more than he wanted to admit, but he couldn’t seek you out to apologize. If he saw you alone, he’d end up doing it all over again. He didn’t regret it. He was just trying to do right by you. Give you space, give you the means to move on before you’d drift too far into the deep end with him.

So he decided to move on himself, try to force your hand into someone else’s if you saw him coupled up. It was cruel, but that’s who he was deep down. Cruel, guilty, undeserving.

He asked Tommy to set him up with someone, and his brother told him about a nice widow who’d been in Jackson since the beginning and had mentioned how cute she thought Joel was. That was enough for him. He asked her out that night.

He’d been dating Heather for a couple of months now. She was pretty, with medium blonde hair and blue eyes. Not much younger than him. Everyone knew they were together, and he assumed that meant you did too. He’d seen you around, eyes never meeting while he walked to his house hand-in-hand with her. He heard rumors of you leaving the Tipsy Bison with a guy in tow a few times, and despite the pang of jealousy that he felt, he kept reminding himself that this was right. You’d fall in love with that guy or someone else, forgetting all about him.

A few months of dating led them to a quick engagement. Joel still couldn’t get you out of his head and took extreme measures to ensure nothing more would happen. They got married in his backyard in a small ceremony. The occasion was lowkey, at the request of Joel. Word spread after the first outing Joel had taken to the market, the silver band on his finger telling everyone what they wanted to know. Each conversation came with congratulations to him and his new wife. He returned them with tight, polite smiles, hiding the oozing guilt that was filling his chest.

Joel had found out that you’d skipped work a few times when Tommy mentioned it in passing on patrol, which was extremely unlike you considering you loved your job. He knew it was because of his marriage.

He tried to bury his worry, telling himself that he was doing the right thing. For him and for you.

Heather had lived her young life with her first husband, she wouldn’t grow to resent him for what he failed to give her. You would move on, as he did, and find some nice guy to settle down with, who could give you what you were looking for. What you deserved.

The worry carried over the day, his brain jumping to worst-case scenarios. He had to make sure you were okay. He would knock on your door to see if you were there. It was the neighborly thing to do.

Joel silently left his bed with his wife sleeping next to him, slipping out the front door in the hours before dawn. He needed to check on you, even if he had to look in through your windows to make sure you were alive. Knuckles lightly rapped on your door, and just as he was nearly about to go find your bedroom window, the door cracked apart from the jamb, and your face was lit by the soft night light.

“What are you doing here?” He can taste the bitterness in your tone.

He swallows down at the toes of his boots, raising both shoulders in a small shrug.

“Tommy said you skipped out on work most of this week. Just wanted to make sure you were alright. That you were alive.” He tries to joke, but your expression remains annoyed.

“Well, I’m fine. Alive. You should probably go, your wife’s at home.”

The door starts to shut, but he quickly grips the edge, rasping out, “I need to talk to you.”

You pause for a second before opening the door. Not waiting for him, you move to sit on your couch. Joel strides over, sitting at the other end and cheating his body towards you curled up in the corner.

 “What do you need to talk about?”

“I need to apologize to you. I shouldn’t have ignored you after that night. Hell, that night shouldn’t have even happened. I got caught up-”

“Do you regret it?”

He thinks about saying yes. It would make everything so much easier. You could hate him, call him an asshole for fucking you and breaking your heart. But he can’t lie to you.

“No. I could never regret it.”

“So why shouldn’t it have happened?”

He sighs, wringing his hands together and resting his elbows on his knees.

“Honestly? I’ve been trying so hard to do right by you, darlin’. You deserve so much more than me. I’m broken, bruised, scarred. I’ve lived an ugly life, and I don’t want to end up giving any part of it to you. I can barely live with myself for the things I’ve done, even if I’ve done them to save my people. I’ve lost so much, and taken all the same. You’re so bright. I see it in that beautiful smile of yours. You deserve someone who can add beauty to your life, to live a long while with you. I can’t do that for you. All I’m going to do is fail you; it’s all I can seem to do these days. So I chose for us, and I moved on, and I hope you can find the same thing.”

After a breath, he feels like he can face you. That confidence crumbles immediately when he sees the tears streaming down your cheeks, the soft sniffle as you wipe your runny nose with your sleeve.

“That’s not true, Joel. You could never fail me because all I ever wanted you to give me was yourself. I love you, Joel. You are someone that can give me a beautiful life. Or could’ve, I guess, but now…” your eyes flick to the band on his left ring finger, “What you did was so fucking selfish, Joel. You couldn’t even have a conversation with me. And no matter how angry I get with you, I still can’t help but fucking love you.”

All he can do is kiss you. He’s spilling every emotion he can’t speak into this kiss. It would be wrong to tell you what you want to hear from him, even if it hurts to keep it inside him. His hands run over your body, gathering you in his arms and guiding you back to your bedroom.

He shouldn’t keep going. He should stop. But the feeling of your lips on his, your soft skin in his hands, and the fact that you love him keep his feet moving down the short hallway.

He can’t give you up. He was in way too deep and he would be damned if he wasn’t going to pull you in with him.

Despite the anger, sadness, and betrayal, your love for him overpowered it all. You needed to show him, to let him go with a searing memory of how you feel.

All of the actions between you two are sloppier than before. Each touch is rougher, grabbing at whatever you can take in the midst of heady kisses. Every movement is filled with unspoken words.

Joel gently pushes you the last few inches onto your bed, kicking off his boots and working at the buttons of his shirt, “Take it all off, baby, don't wanna waste a second.”

You’re only apart for as long as it takes for clothes to be shed. Back against the pillows of your unmade bed, arms pull Joel in and legs spread wide. His weight is supported with one arm, a soft moan exhaled as he bites his mark into your neck. Fingers move through your wetness, circling your clit.

It’s your turn to be selfish, and all you want is for Joel to feel himself inside of you. To remember what it’s like to have you when he goes home. To think about you when he fucks his wife. It feels wrong to want that, but you can’t help but feel a claim over him. The fingers tangled in his hair pull his head from its spot at the curve of your shoulder. You meet his lust-blown eyes and speak your demand.

“Fuck me, please, I need you now.”

Joel groans, fingers ceasing their movement as he questions you, “You sure, darlin’? You ready for me right now?”

“Yes, ‘m ready, please, baby,” you plead with him.

Joel repositions himself upright on his knees between your wide legs, stroking himself to get fully hard. He drags the head of his cock up your slit, coating it with your wetness before he presses the tip inside of you. You feel a tinge of pain as he splits you open, but you whisper for him to keep going.

When he’s completely inside of you, Joel sighs out your name, hands gripping your thighs and bringing one up to wrap around his waist, allowing him to sink further.

“Please, Joel, want it hard…” you whimper out, feeling the sensation of him in your gut. Joel needs no further instructions, pulling back to fuck into you hard and deep.

He watches where your bodies connect, how the drag of his cock swells your cunt. Lip pulled between his teeth, the sight makes his hips snap roughly against yours.

He’s leaving bruises with how tight he’s holding onto you, keeping you from moving up the mattress with the power of his thrusts. You don’t say anything until Joel breaks, fucking you with a possessive drive, “Mine. You’re all mine.”

“Only yours, baby. ‘M only ever gonna be yours.”

“You’re made for me, sweet girl, made to take me. Feel so fucking good, such a perfect pussy.”

You’re relieved when his eyes leave yours as he watches him hit inside you again, tears pricking your eyes from the pain and pleasure pounding through you and the thought that he won’t ever be completely yours.

That stupid piece of metal around his finger burns against the skin of your thigh. It should be a symbol of you, not someone else.

Hurt, anger, and pleasure meld together. Hands move to Joel’s shoulders, using your strength to flip over. His back hits the crumpled pillows at the headboard, sitting up as you straddle him.

“Look so beautiful on top of me, baby,” his chest rises and falls in quick succession, the next inhale sharper as you sink down completely, watching his eyes screw shut and a deep moan vibrate his chest.

“Oh fuck, take what you need, darlin’. Use my cock. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

Your mouth opens to tell him you can’t have what you want most. Because of what he decided for the both of you. Instead, a moan tumbles out, hips starting to roll to work him back to that near-ecstasy feeling. The room is filled with the wet smacks of skin meeting skin mixed with wanton moans. Your movements keep you both near the edge, your head back and eyes closed as you scream Joel’s name. He doesn’t reprimand you for potentially exposing yourselves to the neighbors, only reaching a hand to the back of your neck and pulling you in for a passionate kiss. You can tell he’s close when his feet dig into the mattress, hips under his vice grip. He starts fucking up into you, both of your rhythms meeting to work you higher. One hand leaves his chest to hold the side of his head, forcing him to meet your eyes.

“‘M yours…” you echo his lust-filled words. You need to remind him that at least part of him will always belong to you, that only you can make him feel this good, this loved. That you’re the one who fucks him like this. “Made for you, right? Just for you, baby. No one besides you can make me feel this good, make me come like you can. Ruined me for everyone else.”

“Mhmm, that’s fuckin’ right, darlin’. This pussy’s mine. You belong to me, all to me.” Joel’s thrusts become frantic and you lose your rhythm, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing quick circles.

You come hard, screaming his name again and whining with each thrust after your intense orgasm. Joel’s right behind you, your sounds pushing him over the edge. Warm ropes coat your walls, his husky groan reverberating under your palms pressed to his chest. Your voice can barely reach a whisper when you look at him, fingers moving to tug his hair, “And you belong to me.”

He doesn’t say anything if he even hears you, his skin sticking against yours and his come dripping out of you onto his stomach when you move to lie down. Joel gets up after he steadies his breath to grab a warm cloth from the bathroom to clean you up. He crawls back into bed, slipping under the covers after tossing the dirty washcloth into the hamper. Your head finds his chest, curling up into his side with his arm wrapping you up. He kisses your forehead as you drift off, feelings of guilt, anger, and love rising from your gut to sit square in your chest.

Cold sheets. That’s what you wake up to. Sitting up in bed, you glance around your room with sleepy eyes, searching for any evidence of Joel.

Nothing. He must’ve left after you fell asleep. You can’t blame him. It definitely wouldn’t look the best if his wife woke up in the morning and he was nowhere to be found. And he couldn’t risk someone seeing him sneak out of yours in the morning light.

You’re remembering your confession that was met with his claim over your body. Your own stupid attempt to make him believe that he belonged only to you, spurred on by his possessive words.

Something on the nightstand catches your eye. A note from Joel:

Meet me at our spot tonight, sweet girl

You met him that night, and nearly every night since then, too. Mostly in that overgrown field behind the barn, sometimes at yours when you craved complete comfort of the couch or bed.

Joel started staying later with you, holding you after the possessive claims he made over you like a prayer. He opened up about his time with Ellie before Jackson, stories about Boston, about Tess. What it was like growing up with Tommy, confessing he loved to sing and play guitar, even wanted to be a singer when he was younger and somehow ended up as a contractor. He even told you about his daughter Sarah, how beautiful and bright she was.

You told him your own story too. Leaving the Chicago QZ with your brother and sister when everything went to shit with FEDRA and the Fireflies. How you lost your sister soon after, bit by a straggling clicker in a gas station you were raiding. How your brother was the one to shoot her when she begged you both. Stories about traveling west with him, how he protected you until the day he died. You were chased by raiders looking to kill you both for your supplies, running through the forest just along the river outside of Jackson. You didn’t know the community was there, but it ended up being your saving grace. Your brother pushed you to run over the bridge, the men finally catching up to him. You couldn’t stop, couldn’t look back. All you could do was scream as you heard a gunshot.

Joel held you as you cried, you comforted him when he needed it. He never told you what happened after he and Ellie left Jackson that first time, he didn’t have to if he didn’t ever want to. These vulnerable moments brought you closer together.

But it was never close enough to stop the cycle he developed of pushing you away after a few weeks together, getting so in his head about the situation, feeling guilty, or getting paranoid if he suspects that Tommy or Maria or his wife are catching on. His abandonment would last a few days or even a week at a time.

And you always wait it out, always come back when he wants you.

Like a dog with a bird at his door, you gave all of yourself to him.

It’s a late night at work for you. Joel parked himself on his usual stool, drinking ‘til last call after his buddies left, something he’d done often in the last few weeks.

Tommy finished restocking the fridges under the counter and tossed you the keys to lock up. As he leaves, he gives Joel a knowing look and you a sympathetic one.

Joel slaps his hands against the bar top, standing when you walk from behind the counter. His steps falter a bit as he gets used to the ground underneath him. Steadying him with an arm around his back, he wraps his own around your shoulders to keep you at his side.

“Let me walk you home, baby.” Words slurs together, eyes half-lidded and glazed over. It would be a bit endearing to see him without his usual stoic persona, but the fact that this is the third night this week that he’s gotten this drunk is concerning.

You end up carrying Joel all the way home, and just when you’re about to get him to his front door, his strength overpowers your own and he pulls you away with him, dragging you two in a drunken stupor down the road.

His steps are heavy and sporadic while he whistles some song in your ear, reaching the field. He flops down into the grass, his arms sneaking around your waist when lay down with him. Joel pulls you in close, kissing you deeply and sighing against your mouth. He smells of whiskey, leather, and musk; all combining to be uniquely Joel.

You couldn’t bring yourself to argue with him about getting home so you let him kiss you, let his hand under your shirt. You listened to him recollecting the night with the patrol guys. The only touches exchanged were his fingertips running up and down your side under your loose t-shirt and your cheek pressed against his denim-covered chest.

He brought up a song that was playing on a record at the bar, John Lennon’s Woman. He reminisced about hearing that song as a young teen for the first time, and telling you how a couple of years later he wrote the lyrics down for his tenth-grade girlfriend, telling her he wrote a poem for her.

“She read it, obviously knowing the song. She crumpled it up, said ‘That’s John Lennon, not you, Joel Miller,” and walked away from me. Needless to say, she broke up with me.”

“Wow, a breakup over plagiarism. Must’ve been a real stickler for academic honesty,” you reply, sending both of you into giggles.

His laugh faded slightly, the wrinkles still showing next to his eyes and his smile lines present, jovially commenting, “You probably barely even know who John Lennon is.”

He laughs but his words made you feel small. He teased you before about the age difference, but for some reason, you couldn’t brush this one off.

“Y’know, I still remember what life was like then.”

His hand finds your chin, tilting your head up with a sigh, “That’s not what I meant, darlin’, you know I was just teasin’. You probably didn’t even know it was John Lennon if you heard one of his songs when you were young, baby.” You sit up quickly, separating from him.

“He was a fucking Beatle! Like the biggest band ever. I might be younger than you, but I’m not stupid. They were around even before you were born, so yeah, I do know who John Lennon is. And did you know he cheated on his first wife, like, a bunch of times and left her for one of those women? Sound familiar, Joel? Actually, probably not, ‘cause you’d never actually admit how you feel about me and leave your wife, even though you love me,” your words come out before you even have a chance to think about them, and as you look at Joel, you can tell he’s letting his anger and annoyance come over him, his expression turning to stone, “I feel like you just see me as some naive girl who doesn’t know anything or hasn’t dealt with shit in this world -”

“You haven’t done nearly a fraction of what I’ve had to do in this world, darlin’, so don’t get started. You are a naive girl. You’ve always had someone to protect you, and I’ve always been the protector. You don’t know nothin’ about losing yourself or having to do the worst possible thing just to save yourself or your people,” his voice is low and unwavering with an intensity you hadn’t heard before. He’s trying to hurt you now, bringing up the protection that you’d been given by your brother before he died to save you, the fact that you’ve always had support from him or the people of Jackson.

Your eyes gloss over, blurring his hunched-over figure. His words are venom seeping through the well-worn cracks in your heart. Curling up into a ball and chin on your kneecaps, pressing down into the bone to keep your lips from trembling. How childish you must look like this. Joel doesn’t move to comfort you, staring a thousand yards ahead, emotionless.

“I know you think I don’t know the guilt or pain or heartbreak that you feel 'cause I’ve been protected for a lot of my life in this world. But being in love with you, being some dirty secret to you, has given me enough guilt, pain, and heartbreak to last for the rest of my life.”

A shaky breath slipped out of your parted lips, untangling your limbs from their locked positions to stand. You turn away, legs carrying you home. You don’t look back, wiping your tears away as quickly as they fall. You’re exhausted from him, from this whirlpool of loving and leaving that he’s pulled you into. A part of you breaks just the slightest bit more, a new piece for you to mend whenever he calls you back.

You should hate Joel. He pulled you in and pushed you away, and all you could do was fall, but now it felt like sinking. And your feet won’t ever touch the bottom.

He’s taken your love willingly, and only given you possessive invocations over your body, only made your constant pain burn hotter. Linen soaked up the tears that were left on your cheeks as you laid down in bed, exhaustion taking over.

The image you see feels warm, blurred around the edges. It was his home, no sign of his wife but evidence of Ellie in the comic book and worn-out sneakers near the chair across the room. Soft strums of a guitar float around, and your sights lock on him at the other end of the couch. You have this feeling that you need to say something to him, but can’t remember for the life of you what it is; the moment overwhelming. He’s singing and playing guitar, unabashed, and with a genuine smile only for you. Tender brown eyes glance away as someone walks into the room. Ellie’s holding a lopsided birthday cake with a few candles lit. It’s decorated with a sloppy frosting drawing of the ocean, a boat on the horizon. It was a reminder of the daydream you had vocalized to Joel, spending a life on the shore in a small sailboat together. The song he was playing softly fades into Happy Birthday, his smile matching Ellie’s. All you hear, before the image fades, is his voice as you lean in to blow out your candles, “Happy birthday, darlin’. I love you.”

The clinking of stacking glasses is the only sound echoing through the empty bar as you and Tommy close out. Joel’s been ignoring you, has been for a couple of weeks after your fight, spending his free time picking up shifts or staying at home with his family. The rag you’re holding moves in circles over the shiny bar top, reflecting your face back to you. You can see the pain in your eyes seeping back after spending the night putting on a face for your customers.

“You don’t need to keep on paintin’ that pretty smile on your face, hon. I hate seein’ you looking like you’re gonna crack your jaw from forcing yourself to look happy,” Tommy sighs, looking over at you while he continues to polish the glass in his hand. “What he’s doing to you, it’s wrong. You deserve to be treated with respect.”

“He wasn’t doin’ anything I wasn’t letting him do. It takes two, Tommy. Think you’d know that with a newborn around,” you try to lighten the mood, kicking yourself for still defending Joel.

“I know. But I also know how you look at him. Like you’ve been drownin’ at sea and he’s the one who’s come along to save you.” You finally look up from your reflection on the bar surface; the shame in your face becomes too much for you.

“At this point, it feels more like he’s the one pulling me under.” 

Tommy sets the glass down and tosses the rag at it. Closing the small space between, he pulls you against his chest, arms around your shoulders. You can’t cry in front of him, embarrassed that he even knows about you and Joel in the first place, let alone that he feels sorry for you. You reciprocate the hug, gingerly wrapping your arms around his torso. The sound of the door swinging echoes in the large room. Tommy let’s you out of his comforting embrace and turns to meet the late patron.

Joel.

He’s standing across the room, eyes moving between his brother and you. He came looking for you, not expecting Tommy to still be closing out the bar with the baby at home. A furrowed brow creases lines between those soft, guilt-ridden brown eyes. The same look he’s had every time he’s shown up at your door at 2 AM to apologize, kiss you, show you how much he needs you. You fall every time, wanting to be his comfort, his relief. His lighthouse in the storm of remorse he’s constantly battling. Loyal to a fault.

At this moment, you wish for a wave to pull you under and sweep you into the tide.

Tommy asked him to wait outside.

Asked is generous. More like, grabbed Joel by the collar and dragged him outside like a scolded puppy, pointing his finger and giving him a strong, “Stay.”

He did as he was told, leaning against the post at the top of the stairs. Arms crossed over his chest and anxiously tapping his foot against the wood porch.

Both you and Tommy left at the same time. Joel would be knocked out on the spot if Tommy had his way, judging by the look on his face. The younger Miller wished you goodnight and you gave him a reassuring nod as you stayed back to face Joel.

Tommy’s out of sight and out of earshot before you break the silence.

“So…why’d you come here? Thought you’d be done with the naive girl.”

Joel raises to his full height, taking a hesitant step toward you. You don’t move away, but he keeps his distance in order to get his thoughts out.

“Darlin’, I’m -” he starts, pausng for a moment to gather his words, “I keep doin’ this, don’t I? Being happy with you, then pushing you away and hurting you. I’m sorry, sweet girl. I’m so, so sorry. I don’t want to fight with you. I shouldn’t have said those things to you, I know what you’ve been through. You’re not naive. You’re mindful, attentive in ways I could never be. I hurt you. I haven’t done this the right way. I haven’t protected you like I should’ve 'cause I couldn’t stay away from you. I’m what you needed saving from and I’ve been too selfish to keep us both from drowning.”

You worry your lip between your teeth as tears gloss over your eyes. He steps closer to you, hands reaching up to cup your face. He’s not sure if you’re going to slip between his fingers, but he’s trying his best to keep you there with him. Tears fall, his thumbs working to wipe them away. Not letting a drop of you to slip away from his touch.

He can see the innerworkings of your brain in your eyes. He knows how to read you; he can see the battle in your head about whether or not he’s saved this time. Your voice is coated in emotion when you finally speak up again, “I’ve heard drowning is actually kind of a peaceful way to go, all things considered. And if it’s going to be with anyone, I’d choose you.”

That damn smile finds its way across your face in spite of your tears, and he can’t help but mirror it. It’s a welcome home for him, the light pulling him into your harbor - safe once again. He leans down to press a soft, tender kiss to your lips, deepening it for a moment when you reciprocate.

His hand finds yours when he pulls away, “Let’s go for a walk, sweet girl.”

Joel leads you away from the bar, walking down your street. You slow down when you get in front of your cottage, moving to walk down your path. He stops you, shaking his head and mouth ticking up in a small smile. His eyebrows are raised in a silent question, asking you to come with him. You fold easily, taking your place next to his side, hands intertwined.

He takes you to your spot where he’s set up a blanket and a couple of flickering lanterns for some light, but not enough to disturb the view of the moon.

“Joel…this is wonderful, I’m - I don’t know what to say, thank you.” Your hand squeezes his and he shrugs the praise off.

“Don’t thank me, baby, I should be doin’ this for you all the time. ‘S what you deserve.”

He’d gotten a couple of strange stares when he’d been walking down the road with a blanket under one arm and the lanterns in his hand. It occurred to him that people would think he was doing it for his wife, that they might ask her about it tomorrow and he’d be in for a line of questioning. But damn the consequences, he needed to do this for you. To give you something.

Joined hands pointing out more constellations he remembers and ones that Ellie knew, having asked her specifically to help him find the one for your zodiac. As the two of you lay on your backs, curled into each other, he’s taken back to the conversation Ellie and him had about their combined dream of a sheep ranch on the moon. Now that dream, at least for him, included you, too.

“I think it’d be nice out there. Without this world, feeling weightless.” He wishes for that down here, to lighten the load on his chest and the guilt on his shoulders. A different life.

You hum in agreement and he continues, “I wish I could just bring the moon down here, to take the weight off us, and to give Ellie the chance to get her dream.”

You’re quiet for a beat before your words wrap him in warmth, “If I could give you the moon, I would.” 

You’d do anything for him, he knows that. And he’d do anything for you.

As those words cross his mind, the ring from his finger burns in his pocket. He’d taken it off to rid you both of the reminder of how this night would end, how every night would end. A little metal circle that has decided your fates, at least for now. His voice is slightly gravelly in his throat as he answers, “Maybe in another life, yeah?”

if you got to the end, i'm giving you a big smooch.

taglist: @swiftispunk (supportive bae)

[unordinary-diary]

For the ask game : with the Rei never died AU, do you think Rei would help Remi, Blyke, and Isen doing their investigation, or would he be too protective of his little sister ( if Remi even started doing vigilante stuff in this AU ) ? Also, would he aproove of what John was doing in Wellston ( like Joker and King John arcs ) ?

Rei Never Dies AU

ask game

Okay so, in the Rei Never Dies AU, Remi never becomes a superhero, because her motivation was getting revenge. Without Rei dying, there’s no superhero motive for her. However, Blyke probably still would become a superhero because his motive remains untouched. But, just like canon, he’d be laying low, not looking for EMBER, and easily talked out of it when his friends find out. Though it would be cool if he met Rei on his adventures, I’m thinking Rei saves him from Lennon instead of Kuyo.

As for whether or not Rei would approve of John’s actions during his Joker and King arcs... I think we all know the answer to that. I mean, at this point, deep down, even John doesn’t want John to be doing what John is doing.

In fact, one of my favorite things I’ve imagined about this AU is how pissed off Rei would be when he finds out someone put his little sister in the hospital. I like to imagine he’s roommates with Kuyo in college too, so picture this:

Rei gets home from visiting Remi at the hospital. She dejectedly told him all about what John’s been doing at school, and Rei jokingly asked: “Do you want me to go to your school and beat him up for you?” Remi had laughed it off. Kuyo sees Rei opening his secret drawer with a dark look in his eyes, “Dude,” Kuyo says, “You’re not really getting suited up for this—”

“I’m NOT above beating up a high schooler, Kuyo.” Rei says.

Anyway, I just think it would be super cool to have Rei show up in Wellston as X-Static and face off with John. Whether Rei tracks John down and meets him off of school property, or if he just shows up on campus, honestly depends on how ballsy Rei is feeling.

I also like this idea a lot because from Rei’s perspective, this is no different from his regular vigilante work. A strong person is terrorizing a bunch of people who are much weaker than him. The people responsible for stopping him are looking the other way, so Rei steps in. The only difference is that this time it’s personal.

Unfortunately I don’t know how to make this into a satisfying plot point because... obviously Rei loses, and then what? All it does is give the other characters one more reason to hate John, and gives John one more thing to feel guilty over once he’s chilled out again. Both of those things are already in surplus as it is.

However, since I like this idea so much, I offer two possible solutions to this plot issue:

Rei takes an amp

Rei is able to get through to John

But you know what’s even cooler than options 1 or 2? Both. Just imagine it! Glorious.

I could write more exploring those options but this is getting a bit long so I’ll clip it here.

[jtophat]

My Ponyboy Curtis playlist because I love it, I listen to it quite frequently even when I’m not writing stuff involving him, and want to share it.

Fast Car- Tracy Chapman

Imagine- John Lennon

Dark Days- Punch Brothers

Mama Tried- Grateful Dead (The song is originally by Merle Haggard but I listen to the Grateful Dead version)

East Side of Sorrow- Zach Bryan

hope ur okay- Olivia Rodrigo

Renegades- X-Ambassadors

Everybody Wants To Rule The World- Tears For Fears

Boy In The Bubble- Alec Benjamin

Uptown Girl- Billy Joel

Everybody Knows- Sigrid

Friends In Low Places- Garth Brooks

Winter’s Come and Gone- Charles Wesley Godwin (Song originally by Gillian Welch but I feel like this version fits Ponyboy better)

teenage dream- Olivia Rodrigo

Youth- Daughter

Teenage Dirtbag- Wheatus

Friend of the Devil- Grateful Dead

You’re On Your Own Kid- Taylor Swift

Here Comes The Sun- The Beatles

Tomorrow Will Be Kinder- The Secret Sisters

My reason/analysis for each song is below:

Fast Car- I think the desperation for a better life but the cycle of how life can drag you down and make you live the same lives as the people is something that can relate to Pony. I feel like, deep down, he probably has a fear that things may not work out for him as well as people hope and that he may end up living the same kind of life as the rest of the people in his neighborhood which is why I also think it’s a great song to choose to have as the opener for the playlist. I know Luke Combs has a cover of this song and that it may be the more masculine take on it but I feel like the way Tracy Chapman sings it just has so much heart that it really works for Ponyboy. And plus, Tracy Chapman is my favorite artist so I had to go with her version.

Imagine- I think the song has a bit of a daydreamy kind of vibe that can represent how Ponyboy is described as having his head in the clouds. The song is also a call for peace and unity among people and asks them to imagine a world where what divides them no longer exists which is something that I can see Ponyboy longing for.

Dark Days- The song is about how love getting people through difficult times which is something that I think really works for the Curtis brothers because no matter what they love each other and will do whatever they can to help each other, especially after their parents die.

Mama Tried- I think the song works really well for the vibe of the gang as a whole even if it’s something that may directly relate to Ponyboy. And even if Ponyboy doesn’t get into much trouble I’m sure that he gets into more than his mother would have wanted for him (especially after goes on the run for Bob’s murder)

East Side of Sorrow- I think there is so much about the song that relate to so many people in the story but I’ll try to keep my analysis limited to Ponyboy. I think while when song talks about fighting a war that you don’t even know what your fighting for works well for the metaphorical war between the Greasers and the Socs in the books. It’s been going on long before Pony and will continue long after him and no matter what he will never fully understand it even though he too participates in it. “I lost friends in the August heat” I feel really relates to Johnny and Dally’s death, because it was probably about that time that the book takes place. And when the song talks about losing someone in the waiting room and that the doctor did all the could it really brings home the point about Johnny’s death. The song then mentions walking around the Tulsa streets while feeling fucked up which represent Pony’s depression after the death of Johnny and Dally and how he was aimlessly going through life. I also like how the song specifically refers to the east, and of course the Greasers live on the East side of Tulsa. The song then also talks about the sunrise as a symbol of optimism for the future and the sun imagery really works for Ponyboy. After all, sunrises can’t really be that different than sunsets for him.

hope ur okay- I feel like this is how Ponyboy will look back on the people he knew in Tulsa once he finally moves away. I also like how the song references a towhead blonde which is also similar to how Ponyboy describes Dally.

Renegades- I feel like this song really works for Johnny and Pony running away from Tulsa. Even though it’s a bit optimistic for the events in the book, I still feel like it also works for their friendship too.

Everybody Wants To Rule The World- I feel like Ponyboy would really dig the instrumentals of the song and the references to well, people wanting to rule the world works for the story in an odd way that I can’t quite explain. But the vibe of it just really works

Boy In The Bubble- I feel like the beginning of the song is really reminiscent of how Ponyboy and the rest of the gang will get jumped by Socs but in the end where it discusses the home life of the person who attacked the singer represents Ponyboy gaining an understanding of how things are rough all over Tulsa and that even Socs have problems

Uptown Girl- I feel like once Ponyboy starts liking girls (if he does even like girls because I’m not entirely convinced that boy is straight) he would mainly have a thing for Soc girls. The song is about a lower class boy wanting to get with an upper class girl which is what I can see for Ponyboy in the future.

Everybody Knows- The Greasers have the cards stacked against them and everybody knows this, especially Ponyboy.

Friends In Low Places- I was debating between this and Heathens but this won because it’s country (I feel like the gang would really like country music) and the friends in low places is an obvious reference to the gang. I also think that in a way it shows how Ponyboy is out of place in his classes because he’s a Greaser and there are a lot of Socs in them.

Winter’s Come and Gone- I love the outdoorsy vibe of the song and think that Pony would too. I also like the lyrics “so long now I’ve been out in the rain in snow” because I think it can work as a really interesting way of portraying the gangs struggles and how Ponyboy doesn’t feel like he entirely fits in.

teenage dream- Ponyboy really hates it when people refer to him as being a kid which is a sentiment that I think this song shares. I also think it has a slight desperation to be taken seriously which is something that I also think that Ponyboy relates to.

Youth- It only loosely relates but has lyrics like “if you’re still breathing your the lucky ones” which in a way works because it shows that even things are tough, as long as you’re still alive you’re pretty lucky. Because, as we see in the novel, Greasers tend to die young so those of them who still able to keep on living are pretty lucky.

Teenage Dirtbag- I feel like the title of song is probably a bit about how Ponyboy feels about himself. I also think that song relates a bit to teen who are bit more into counter culture/ may get into a bit more trouble which I think works really well with Ponyboy.

Friend of the Devil- From the title alone I think it works. Ponyboy is friends with a lot of troubled people, and some of them, like Dally, some people probably consider a bit devilish. The song as a whole may not perfectly work with Ponyboy but I feel like the vibe of it does

You’re On Your Own Kid- I feel like this is really a Ponyboy in twenty years looking back at his life/childhood kind of song. And also shows how at the end of the day, and even though the gang wants to help him, the only person who is truly looking out for him is himself. He’s not like the rest of the gang. He’s on his own.

Here Comes The Sun- The song has a really optimistic tone has promises of a better future. It also has a lot of sun imagery

Tomorrow Will Be Kinder: The song is hopeful for a future that is better than the present. I think that is the kind of sentiment that Ponyboy holds onto throughout life, especially during his childhood. I think if he doesn’t develop that kind of outlook he will probably be depressed for most of his life.

Some my analysis for this stuff is better than others and not all songs directly relate to Ponyboy, or even the gang/Greasers, but I think the vibe for each song works.

[fleursbending]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒. | Official Setlist ♪

ˏˋ °•*⁀➷ well go on, open it! what's inside?

✎ i. i bet on losing dogs | mitski

── (neteyam x mom!reader)

✎ ii. my tears ricochet | taylor swift

── (tsu'tey x daughter!reader)

➥ includes : part 2 | my tears ricochet

── (sully family x sully!daughter reader)

✎ iii. waiting room | phoebe bridgers

── (sully!family x sully!daughter reader)

➥ includes : alternate version. | waiting room

── (tonowari/ronal!family x daughter!reader)

✎ iv. beautiful boy | john lennon

── (sister!sully reader x brother!lo'ak)

✎ v. the one that got away | katy perry

── (neteyam x omaticaya!reader)

✎ vi. art class | beabadoobee

── (kiri x metkayina!reader)

✎ vii. mastermind | taylor swift

── (neteyam x omaticayan!reader)

✎ viii. sparks | coldplay

── (ao'nung x metkayina!reader)

✎ ix. fine line | harry styles

── (human!jake ⇢ eventual na'vi!jake x human to na'vi!reader)

✎ x. nobody likes a secret | lizzy mcalpine

── (ao’nung x metkayina!reader)

✎ xi. favorite crime | olivia rodrigo

── (ao'nung x sully!daughter reader)

✎ xii. the archer | taylor swift

── (sully!family x sully daughter!reader)

✎ xiii. nothing is lost (you give me strength) | the weeknd

── (lo'ak x omaticayan!reader)

✎ xiv. chamber of reflection | mac demarco

── (lo’ak x metkayina!reader)

✎ xv. little things | one direction

── (neteyam x omaticayan!reader)

✎ xvi. slipping through my fingers | meryl streep, amanda seyfried

── (sully!family x sully daughter!reader) | (ao'nung x sully daughter!reader)

𝒇𝒍𝒆𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒃𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 ━━━ 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑

⤷ if you would like to join 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 taglist please comment on the linked post or ask through my inbox. thank you!♡

[eufezco]

NEW YEAR'S EVE – STEVE HARRINGTON X HOPPER!READER

Mike and Will were finishing putting the ornaments on the Christmas tree. No more sixteen-hour trips in a pizza-scented van to save Hawkins.

Jane was sneaking her presents for you all under the Christmas tree as if you couldn't see her doing it. No more being kidnapped and forced to relieve bad memories.

Dustin and Lucas were fighting about why the colorful lights over the fireplace were not turning on. No more going to the Upside Down and no more living with the anxiety of their loved ones might die in the next five seconds.

Your dad and Joyce were in the kitchen cooking dinner and your mouth was already watering just by the smell that came out of the kitchen. No more Russian jails.

Jonathan and Nancy were setting the big table, counting the cutlery, trying to see if there was enough for everyone. No more having to be apart.

Robin and Eddie were sitting on the floor next to the fireplace with Max in her wheelchair. Your boyfriend walked past them to sit next to you, not without kissing the redhead's girl first, and Max just needing to feel that loving gesture to know that it was Steve.

—Are you okay? —Steve sat next to you on the couch. One of his arms hugged your shoulders and he moved you closer to him.

You looked at all the people you loved, alive, finally starting to live their lives. You felt the warmth of a home after a long time; all of your friends, your little sister, your two brothers, your mom, and your dad, but most importantly the love of your life sitting by your side.

Steve looked at you with his eyebrows raised, he was wearing the Christmas sweater that you bought for him, his hair perfectly styled for the occasion, and his cheeks were decorated with a cute pink colour. No more seeing him almost die in front of your eyes, with those veins around his neck and those monsters biting him. His wounds were almost healed and the bruises on his neck were nearly gone.

—I'm great —. You leaned to give a quick kiss to his lips before resting your head on his chest. His arm around you hugged you tighter if possible and he kissed the top of your head. And that John Lennon's song started playing in your head...

War is over.

[wlfhrdlover]

YOUR BROTHER IS HERE.

protective!Ajax Petropolus x sibling!reader (platonic)

protective!Wednesday Addams x Petropolus!reader (platonic)

summary: you were having a bad time with your significant other, your day could be considered the worst of your week, but Ajax was there for you.

WARNINGS! brief mention of abusive relationship, mentions of violence, anxiety attacks, Ajax being a protective and good big brother and author's lazy horrible writing where he doesn't know what he is doing and is tired because had a long day so, I'm sorry in advance.

First, for some reason you couldn't find your phone, making you lose track of time and getting late to your class.

Then, someone purposely made you trip and you threw your project papers in Thornhill's face, even after she made sure that it was okay, you could feel the guilty and panic creeping up more and more.

Then, someone purposely made you trip and you threw your project papers in Thornhill's face, even after she made sure that it was okay, you could feel the guilty and panic creeping up more and more.

In lunch, you were hoping to see your brother or at least his friends that were yours too, but they were held back for some type of assignment so you had to eat in the bathroom again.

Ajax was the only reason that you could keep going, he was older than you for two years, but he understood you more than any person around your age. Ajax was your one and only, he was your everything.

Your mothers would always admire how Ajax cared and loved you, always making sure that you were okay and if something happened he would be by your side in a blink.

Ajax swore in the day you were born, that he would protect you from everyone and everything, the moment he held you, he saw in your smile that he needed to do it, he needed to be the best big brother the world have ever seen.

And he never failed it.

You also loved his friends, Ajax befriended people easily, you in the other hand, not so much. You always struggled to fit in, nothing seemed enough to make people like you and if they ever talked to you, was to get Ajax's number or one of his friends number.

But you didn't really cared about it, you had them and they were enough for you. Damn, even Wednesday took care of you in her own ways, besides, you were the only person who didn't felt creeped out by her manners and sometimes would help or talk to her about something extremely dark.

Ajax hated how Wednesday could easily get you hurt, that's why he always put Enid or even Thing to track you two so you wouldn't have a single scratch on your body, he cared about you way too much to let it happen, but truth is, he knew that you had a difficult time making friends so he was happy to know that you found comfort and friendship on his friends, even if they were older than you.

At least, Ajax knew that he could trust them to look after you and he knew that they would never hurt you, well, maybe Wednesday, but he doubted it. Enid rambled about how cute she thought that Wednesday chased a student who dared to laugh about one of your favorite shirts and said rude things about it, the goth saw how your eyes got glossy and your lips trembled.

Let's just say that people never heard of this student ever again.

Ajax's girlfriend, Enid, she adored you with her heart and you adored her too, she was like a big sister for you, always giving you advices and helping you with clothes, hair, everything.

Enid was wonderful there was no other way to describe it, she was simply one of your bestest friends, she loved to give you crochet plushies or accessories, that you would wear everywhere. You couldn't ask for someone better than her.

Back to your day, it just kept getting worse.

After your last class you were quick to go and meet your significant other, one that Ajax didn't shared good comments about.

You always meet them in the quad to talk about the day and spend some time together but today everything just crumbled in many ways possible.

You rambled about how your day was bad and how tired you were, but your significant other couldn't care less.

— You're so fucking annoying Y/N, don't you know when to shut up? I really don't give a fuck about your day- they scoffed and turned to you, your mouth shut in a blink- I'm just saying that maybe that's the reason people don't like to talk to you, you're so annoying!- they kept going.

That talk plagued your mind, minute by minute your significant other just kept talking about how the problem was you, saying that they loved you and that's why they were telling you this.

You believed it.

— Maybe that's why Ajax didn't talked to you today, he got tired too- they said and that was the last straw.

The trigger for your current state.

You were sobbing in the bathroom of your dorm, heart beating fast, your brain didn't stopped, it looked like a full train of unstoppable thoughts, you tried to breath but second by second it just seemed harder.

You felt like drowning, your lungs ached for air, a thing that you couldn't get.

Your vision were getting blurry and everything seemed to close around you.

Until you heard Ajax's voice.

— N/N? It's me sweetheart, can I hug you?- he asked so softly, Ajax sucked when the topic were comforting people or helping them, but if it was you, he knew everything.

He always knew how to help you, how to calm you down, how to pull you away from your thoughts and he always knew how to be there for you.

You nodded and he gently pulled you to his side but not completely, he sat down and slowly started to pull you closer and closer until you felt comfortable enough to lay on his shoulder.

— It's okay, I'm here- he said and caressed your head, your just poured every tear you had in your body on his shoulder- Just follow my breath N/N, I'm right here- he whispered and you heard his breath, calm, like always.

With time you calmed down, but still tugged on his shirt for your life, he didn't minded it, he only held you, afraid of you breaking down again.

— Do you want to talk sweetheart?- he asked.

— I just had the worst day of my life Jaxy- you whimpered.

You started to tel him about what happened and he only listened to you, comforting you and making sure that you knew that he was there for you.

— Oh sweetheart, no, never, I could never think that you're annoying or even get tired of you, you're my little sibling, my favorite and only one, I could listen to you for hours, days or months and never get tired of you, which happens every day- he smiled and kissed your forehead- Because I love you and I'll always be here for you, I'm so sorry that I couldn't spend time with you today, we had some things to do but I promise that it will never be about you, because you're my favorite person and I could never ditch you- he tickled your sides.

You giggled and he smiled brightly seeing your smile.

— You're the best brother I could ever ask for- you said and he smiled more- Jax, do you think I should break up with them?- you whispered and Ajax quickly nodded.

— Yes because if they ever said something like that to you again, I'll make sure to put Wednesday in their track- he said and you chuckled nodding.

— Thanks for making it better Jax- you muttered and he hugged tightly.

— I'm your brother, I'll always try to make everything better for you Y/N- he said.

Ajax waved at you as Enid and Yoko dragged you to gossip about the whole school, while he looked at the other side of the quad, marching to your now, ex.

— Come here, little shit- he pulled them by their jacket and they widened their eyes.

Ajax pushed them inside of an empty classroom without cameras, he smiled sarcastically.

— WAIT, I'M SORRY! I DIDN'T MEANT ANYTHING!- they panicked and Ajax nodded.

— Oh yeah, you definitely didn't because you will take it all back and shove it deep inside of your throat before I do it for you right?- he patted the person's back harshly- A little bird told me that you always did that, always tried to blame Y/N by something they clearly don't have control about- Ajax muttered and looked deep into their eyes.

— DUDE I'M SORRY!- they cried.

— Oh no, you will be sorry- Ajax chuckled darkly- Because listen to me okay? Listen really close, if you ever in your life, think about hurting my sibling again, just remember that you'll not only be messing with me, oh no, I'll be the least of your problems because Y/N has a really good friend called Wednesday and let's be honest- he smirked and they both turned to the window, Wednesday watching them with a dark aura- What I'll do to you if you pull a shit like that again, will never reach the things she will do- Ajax chuckled and the person in front of him paled.

They almost matched to the white wall behind them, shaking in their feet.

— Do you understand?- Ajax asked- Remember, you mess with my sibling and I'll fuck you up- he smiled and patted the person's back again.

— Y-y-yeah- they stuttered.

Ajax hummed satisfied and walked away to try to find his sibling again.

Leaving a shaking person in a empty classroom.

[okwritingandpain]

Penny Lane's Getting Better (The Beatles x Reader)

Chapter 7: Two of Us

John's legs ached by the time he made it back to Pete's. He brushes his hair out of his face, the sweat on his forehead not helping him any bit. He bangs on the door, swearing he'll get a splinter from the rough wood.

Pete opens the door, looking confused.

"John?"

He brushes past Pete into the house. Pete's parents jolt off the couch, startled. He glances at them, but continues to the basement door, quickly descending the stairs.

"John!" Pete calls out again, but no answer is returned. John reaches the bottom step, grabbing some of his lyric sheets and his guitar. He had left his aunt alone on the sidewalk in his haste. He hopes she doesn't wait for him because he needed some time to himself...to think.

Pete made it down the stairs with worry.

"Sorry," is all John is able to mutter before he pushes past him back up the stairs. Pete just blinks and watches him go.

"Pete! What is your friend doing?" Pete's mother calls.

"Sorry, Mrs. Best," John says loudly. The front door stayed open as he ran through it. He didn't look back as his legs carried him down the street. This was important, more important than anything else in the entire world currently.

John didn't care about who got in the way as long as he was able to get to Paul...to get to you. It was time to explain everything, time to stop pushing you away.

Acceptance.

"Hey John," the barber calls from his shop.

"Can't talk, but hi!" he shouts back. The lyric sheets were glued to his chest by his arm. The guitar case creaked and screeched as he ran. People stopped and stared, watching him go by with mild disgust.

"Oh, get a life!" He called at some of his classmates. The girls gasped and the boys looked embarrassed. John didn't care.

He ran past his house, past your house...

Your sister was playing out front and she waves at him. He waves back with a kind smile which was quickly replaced by a scowl once he saw his aunt.

"John!" she yells.

"Nope!" he shouts, continuing his sprint to the hospital. Cars avoided him as he crossed the streets, his heartbeat rapidly against his chest.

Finally, the hospital came into view, he let out a breath of relief. He ran to the front doors, nearly hitting a couple.

"Where is Paul McCartney?" he says, breathlessly to the front desk worker.

"Who are you?" the lady asks.

"John, John Lennon," he replies, wiping away some more sweat.

"I don't know if I can let you in-"

"He's with me," a voice calls down the hallway. He looks up to see you at the end of the hallway. You look tired and the scowl on your face didn't make it any better.

"Y/N," he says, practically running to meet you. You glare at him, but he immediately goes in for a hug which catches you off guard.

"I don't think Paul wants to see you,"

"Yeah, well he'll have to," John pushes you away, slightly running into the hospital room. George and Ringo stand up from their seats, surprised by his presence. Paul sits in his hospital bed surrounded by his family. He stares at John for a moment before sitting up slightly.

"John?" he whispers.

"Paul." He rushes over to his bedside. He wanted so badly to hug him and just spill his guts about everything. His words still sat in his mouth while he reached out for Paul's hand.

"Thank you for being here," Paul says. John shakes his head.

"I'm sorry, for everything. I really messed up, Paul," John mutters.

"John..."

"They need to know Paul, I need to tell them," he stammers.

"I need to tell them," Paul says firmly. John pauses, but nods to him. Everyone gathered around Paul's bed, including you who finds yourself at the end of his bed. He looks up at you and then to John.

A year earlier

Paul sat on the brick wall guarding Strawberry Fields. His legs dangled over the edge as he looked out at the rising sun. School was due to start soon, but he always loved watching the sun rise in the morning.

"There you are," a familiar voice says. Paul looks behind him to see John walking towards the wall. His hands grasp the edge and Paul helps him get up.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Paul says, enamored by the morning light. John nods slightly as the birds sing their joyful tune.

"You're always out here,"

"Where else would I want to be?"

"I don't know everything about you, Paul," John chuckles. There was a slight breeze in the air as John's cap almost came off. He removes the cap, whisking his hair back. He gives Paul a smirk before placing the cap on Paul's head.

Paul blushes slightly and then laugh. They sit in silence for a few moments, watching the trees dance with the wind.

"John?" Paul asks, his hands clasped in his lap.

"Yeah?"

"I wrote a song," Paul jumps off the wall for a moment to grab his guitar. John waits expectantly of what Paul has created. Paul takes a deep breath before sitting down in the dirt. He softly starts to play.

"The two of us riding nowhere..." he softly sings. John smiles at the softness of the song. It felt personal and important to their relationship. Paul kept singing, his face becoming a little flushed as he went along.

"You and I have memories, longer than the road that stretches out ahead...." That line felt super special. John wanted to keep making memories with Paul and for them to continue the friendship they had built together.

The band was special. That was no lie, everyone in the group loved playing music and sharing that music with the world. They just needed to love each other for it all to come true.

"That's it," Paul stops suddenly. He blushes slightly once he is done.

"That was amazing!" John cheered. He got off the wall and approached Paul with a smile.

"Thank you and John I..." Paul trails off, unsure if he wants to say what he is thinking.

"Come on, Paul, go ahead," John eggs him on.

"I like you John," Paul whispers. John raises an eyebrow.

"Everybody likes me, is that so hard to say?" John laughs.

"No, I mean I like you, John," Paul reiterates. John stops for a second to think to himself.

"What? You can't be serious," he plays it off as a joke.

"I am though,"

"No," John says, turning around, heading back towards the wall.

"John-"

"I can't believe you right now."

"Just listen to me!" Paul snaps, grabbing John's arm. His hand gripped his arm tightly, not wanting to let go, not even for a moment. John turns back to look at him with a scowl.

"I don't want to listen to you." John hisses. Paul let go of his arm, his face painted in frustration.

"You're not worth my time anyway," he mutters, storming past him to get over the wall.

"Paul," John calls.

"Class starts in 10 minutes, you best get a move on," Paul shouts back. Then he went over the wall. John stood there for a moment, wanting to put distance between him and his friend as best as possible. This changed a lot of things, more things than he wanted to admit it did.

Present.

Paul's parents looked the most surprised. You simply stared at the two of them, feeling that finally some answers were stored upon you. This whole time now made a lot more sense: why they fought, why they fought about you. You thought Paul liked you, but now you see it was part of something a lot bigger than that between Paul and John.

George and Ringo shared an expression of "I knew it" which almost made you laugh. John turns to everyone else in the room and then to you.

"I'm sorry," he whispers to you, "I should have told you; we should have told George and Ringo too. Instead, we probably drove you crazy with our fighting."

"You can say that again," you reply, "I had no idea..." Paul smiles, looking relieved to have this all off his chest.

"I'm sorry too, for not explaining it sooner, it drove a divide between John and I," Paul says, "we should have worked it out sooner especially since you've come into our lives."

“It’s alright, really. It’s hard to accept these things sometimes, and this is something that truly is between you two, depending on how you feel about one another,” you explain.

Everyone is silent for a few moments. The air is heavy with emotion, Paul's family mutters to him. All of them seem to be in shock from what he has told them. George and Ringo listen with amused expressions.

John leads you to the other side of the room. His hand grips your arm firmly, but not painfully.

"Listen, Y/N," he begins with a whisper, "I really am sorry that I hid this from you and how I acted towards Paul. I didn't know how to take his feelings, so I just...didn't face them." You rest your hand on his cheek and smile up at him. His eyes trace over your face and admire your beauty.

"It's alright, John. Just make sure to tell Paul what you just told me,” You explain, "you two need to rebuild your relationship, you know?" John nods with a little chuckle. He grabs his guitar case and sits down in one of the chairs near the bed. Everyone's chatter stops so they can watch what he does next.

"I'm working on a song, it's not quite ready and sounds better on piano honestly, but I have something else to play first," John says. His hands begin strumming the familiar chords that Paul remembers writing himself. The music drifted through the room, carrying the drab feeling of the hospital away.

"Two of us riding nowhere..." John sings.

"Spending someone's hard earned pay," Paul continues with a smile. They sing the song together, with Paul taking the lead on some parts.

"You and I have memories, longer than the road that stretches out ahead," he burst with joy filled lyrics. The two really seem like friends again as they laugh. Ringo and George whoop and holler along with the music.

You glance at Paul's family who all look like they witnessed a beheading of some kind. You couldn't help but laugh yourself.

Paul and John were interesting fellows, who deserved a chance to really explore the relationship that they have. Whether that be their friendship...or something else of that kind.

You can't help but feel grateful for getting to know the people that lived on Penny Lane and everything that they did for you.

You wonder, of course, what the future holds for the band and for yourself. You see great things to come from the future and you can't wait to be by their sides as you grow older.

Who knows what the future may bring, of course. 

Should I end it here? I have one more chapter planned, but this also feels like an ending too lol. I don't know, but I would love some feedback.

@sabrielka-133

[ofstoriesandstardust]

day 3 - war is over - Coyote and Rebel

a/n: seeing everyone in my notes re-reading same mistakes makes me think there’s no better time for this... i have been working on this since july and (forgot about it) decided to add this to ficmas since it was halfway done. if you remember Coyote being from anywhere other than Savannah Georgia, no you don’t, and if you see any inconsistencies, no you don’t.

summary: The Christmas Coyote and Rebel spent together

title comes from happy x-mas (war is over) by john lennon 

12 days of ficmas | main masterlist | top gun: maverick masterlist | same mistakes-verse 

warnings: swearing, homesickness, angst, death of a parent, Javy’s mom is certifiably The Best, naming Coyote’s sisters was the hardest thing i’ve ever done, i still don’t know how the Navy works, i hate John Lennon but this song fit so well, disclaimer i’ve never been to Georgia, i mention the government shutdowns in passing, the end’s kind of rushed but i wanted to get this done

word count: 3,951

You sighed, sinking farther down into the seat on the couch. You’d just gotten off the phone with your Dad, hearing what you’d already suspected, that he wouldn’t be able to make it home for the holidays. You’d already called Ice, only to learn he was going to be in D.C. over the holidays for Navy business. He’d told you you were welcome to join him and Sarah out there, but spending the holidays being chummy with the Navy’s top leaders and the nation’s politicians sounded less than ideal. You could go home, but you’d be going home to an empty house with no family to spend it with. 

The common room door opens and you don’t look up, instead choosing to kick your legs up and move so that you were fully laying down. You grabbed a pillow and shoved it over your face, willing yourself not to scream. 

The holidays got harder every year, you and Dad got farther apart, and with Ice’s illness, it just... never made for a happy holiday. Which sucked, because Christmas was arguably your favorite holiday. 

A familiar laughter rang out as you hear the footsteps stop next to the couch. You hear shuffling and then weight being pressed on the back end of the couch. “All good there Rebel?”

“’m fine.” You mumbled into the pillow and he chuckled again. Hands you didn’t see gently wrestled the pillow away from your face and you blinked, taking in the sight of your best friend. 

“Try again. Couldn’t quite hear that.” You sighed, rolling so your back was facing him.

“I’m fine Coyote.” He sighed.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure you are.” He says and you hear his footsteps move into the little kitchenette. You can hear him make coffee and you glance up at him when his legs appear in front of you. He offers you a cup and you take it, eyeing it. 

“I didn’t need this.” He nods, taking a sip of his own drink. 

“Oh yeah, this is more for me, but my mother raised a gentleman.” He pulls the armchair closer to the coffee table across from you and sets his drink down, gesturing his hands towards you. “Okay, out with it, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You say, shifting to sit up in a cross-legged position. He raises an eyebrow. 

“You’re a terrible liar.” You shoot him a look but he doesn’t waver and you set the cup down on the coffee table. 

“It’s stupid.”

“I guarantee you it’s not.” You sigh, wondering how to approach it. You shrug, grabbing the pillow from the back of the couch to have something to play with. 

“Just the holidays. I found out from Dad he’s not gonna be able to come home for Christmas and my godfather is going to be in D.C. so I don’t have any family to spend it with. I’ll probably go home anyways, but it’s gonna be tough going back to an empty house, knowing I’ll be spending the holiday alone. Again. I don’t know, stuff like this makes me realize how much the Navy has torn my family apart and I can’t think too far into that or it’ll make me really upset.” 

Wasn’t that the understatement of the century. 

Bradley hadn’t spoken to you in years, Goose was gone, Carole was gone, Mom was God knows where, Ice was busier and busier, Dad getting further away with every admiral he pissed off. 

Coyote sighed. “Sounds real tough of a problem you’ve got there.” You narrow your eyes at him.

“K, last time I tell you anything.” He chuckles. 

“How long’s your leave for?”

“Same as yours. I’ve got to be back on the 4th.” He sighs, eyeing you. “What?”

“Why don’t you come home with me for the holidays?” 

“No.”

“No?”

“No.” You confirm as he stares at you.

“Why? Why do you hate me so? Don’t want to spend your favorite holiday with your best friend?”

“And impede on his family’s celebration? No thank you.” You say, shaking your head. 

“You wouldn’t be impeding. Mom loves to host and you’ve never been to Savannah. I can take you, show you around, make us even for the San Diego trip.” You sigh, shifting in your seat, tapping the mug.

“Coyote, I don’t know... You sure your Mom would be okay with it?” He nods. 

“Positive. Mom would love to have you.” 

“Okay, if you’re certain.” He nods again.

“I am.” A smile break out over his face. “Oh, this is gonna be so fun, my sister’s are gonna love you.” 

-

“Okay, so walk me through it again one more time.” Coyote looks up at you from his phone. You’re sat on your suitcase as you sit at the busy Savannah/Hilton Head International Airport. 

Wasn’t that a mouthful. 

You’re sitting off to the side at the pick-up area, waiting for one Coyote’s sisters to come get you. “Okay, Robin’s my Mom. The kindest woman you will ever meet. Heart of gold. She’ll love you. Viola’s the youngest at 14. She’s very sassy. Scarlet is the middle sister and she’s 23. She just graduated from college with a B.S. in Political Science. And then there’s Willow, whose 26 and 6 months pregnant. Her husband is Alex and they’re having a baby boy. They will ask you for name suggestions.” You nod, appreciating Coyote’s extra tidbits, so you at least had a starting point. “And if Mom happens to make a comment about us dating, ignore it.” Your eyes widen, starting to panic. 

“What? Coyote, I love you but not that much. Don’t tell me you told your Mom we’re dating.” He shook his head.

“No, I was very clear we’re just friends and that you needed somewhere to go for the holidays but she- first time I’m bringing a girl home, friend or not, and she’s getting excited. She thinks that if she just encourages it she’ll get another grandchild out of it.” You snort, playing with a string on your NAVY hoodie. 

“She should meet my Dad.” 

“Anyways, she’ll drop it after the first day or so, but she’s excited.” You stare at your shoes, scuffing them against the wet concrete. “Hey, I’m serious, it’ll be fine. Everyone’s excited to meet you and you’re gonna have a good time. Look, here’s Scarlet now.” He says as a car pulls up. You bite your lip anxiously as a woman gets out from the front, moving to hug Coyote. “Scarlet!″ He exclaims, moving closer and you follow slowly, dragging your suitcase behind you. “It’s so good to see you!” 

Why was having luggage suddenly the most embarrassing thing in the world?

“Javy, did you get taller from the last time I saw you?” She says, bringing him back into another hug after giving him a once over. Your heart twists, thinking about what you should be doing with your Dad right now in San Diego. 

“Maybe.” He says, smirking as he pulls away again. “This is my best friend and wingman.” He says as he introduces you. Her attention turns to you as she takes you in. You smile nervously, rubbing your hands together. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Javy’s told me so much about you.” You say, offering her your hand and she looks at it. 

“Oh none of that, if you’re family to Javy, you’re family to me too. C’mhere.” She says warmly, pulling you into a hug. Her grip is tight, like Coyote’s, and you bring your arms up to wrap her in a hug. You’re hit with an overwhelming amount of homesickness in that moment and try to blink the tears away. “Alright, well, let’s get you both back to the house, yeah? Mom’s excited to see you both.” He nods and takes both of your suitcases while you climb in the back row of the car. The pair chat excitedly, getting each other caught up on their lives as you sit in the back, fiddling with your phone. 

Ice had texted you, asking how the flight had been, and you took the time to let him know you’d landed. You smiled as he asked for pictures from your trip and your fingers slipped quickly over the keyboard to confirm that yes, you’d send him and Sarah plenty of pictures. 

You looked out the window, taking in the city. It was different from your city, the city you called home, but it was Coyote’s so it would do. You bit down the homesickness you’d been feeling since you got to the Green Vipers, one that had only gotten worse since you’d been shot down. Before you know it, the car is pulling up in front of a cute little home, lights twinkling. You take a deep breath as Coyote turns in his seat to give you a thumbs up. You get out of the car as Coyote grabs your suitcases from the back and you pull your arms further back into your sweatshirt, not trying to show how nervous you were. His Mom opens the door and is quick to wrap him in a hug. You have to blink back tears as you get hit with another wave of missing your Dad. She fusses over him for a moment, but eventually lets him go and he moves to reveal you. 

“Mom, this is my best friend.” You extend a hand. 

“Hi ma’am, it’s nice to meet you.” You say and she brushes past your hand as she pulls you into a hug. 

The Machado family must have a gene, you think, for giving hugs that make you feel safe. 

You hug her back, blinking back your tears. You were supposed to be having a good trip and the homesickness would not ruin that. 

She finally lets you go, hands resting on your arms as she takes you in. “It’s very wonderful to meet you dear. I’m glad my boy has someone to look out for him.”

“I’d protect him with my life.” You say, the words ringing ever so true. She sighs, letting you go. 

“Have the two of you eaten? Come on in, let’s get you out of the cold and get some warm food in your stomachs.” Coyote pats you on the shoulder as you move inside the house, Coyote’s sister having taken the suitcases up to his room. His other two sisters are gathered on the living room couch, along with who you think is Willow’s husband, watching a Christmas movie. Alex pauses the movie and stands up, walking over to introduce himself as Willow waves from the couch. 

“I still don’t think she’s not your girlfriend Javy.” Willow calls from her seat on the couch and Coyote rolls his eyes. 

“She’s too pretty to be his girlfriend.” Viola calls and you snicker as he protests. He turns to you, catching your amused look. 

“Stop it.” He reprimands and you shake your head, laughing silently. He groans, turning back to his sisters, who are looking at him with shit-eating grins. 

“It’s gonna be a long two weeks, isn’t it?” 

“May I remind you that this was your idea?”

“Yeah, well, I’m heavily regretting it right about now.” 

Another laugh escapes you, making your shoulders shake as your best friend shoots you a look.

-

You slip outside into the backyard, admiring Robin’s garden as you answer your Dad’s call. The connection is weird as he cuts out for a few moments, giving you time to sit down on the stray folding chair left outside on the porch. “Dad?”

“Hey kiddo, sorry about that.”

“No worries.” You hum, running your hand through your wet hair, just having gotten out of the shower when you got the text that your Dad was going to call soon. You’d hurried to dress so you could slip outside and talk to him in private for a minute. 

“Happy holidays. How’s Georgia?”

“Good.” You answer, looking around the backyard. It’s small, and yet so uniquely the Machado’s. “Javy’s family is really nice.” 

“That’s good to hear. I’m happy you have someone to spend the holidays with.” 

“Mhmm.” You agree, feeling the lump crawl up your throat. “I really miss you, Dad.”

He sighs from the other end of the line. “I miss you too kiddo. Next Christmas, okay? I promise.” 

He never meant to but somehow those promises always ended up getting broken. 

You nod, even though he can’t see you. “Okay.” There’s shouting from the other end of the line and he sighs again. “Have to go so soon?”

“Yeah. Kiddo, I’m-”

“No worries Dad. Go save the world.” You say softly, standing up from your chair. 

“I love you, kiddo. I’ll call as soon as I can.” 

“I know. I love you too.” The call ends, the line going dead before you can say anything more. “Merry Christmas.” You whisper, looking back over the yard, where the rain is beginning to drizzle once more. Sighing, you slip back inside, drifting towards the kitchen in search of food. You pause just outside of it, catching Coyote’s voice murmuring softly. 

“-don’t think she’s enjoying herself.” 

“Javy, she’s in a new place spending the holidays with people she’s never met.” The voice belongs to Javy’s younger sister, Scarlet.

You hear him sigh. “Scar, I know- I just-”

“You want to make the holiday good for her. I get it Javy.”

“It’s more than that, she just has such a hard time with the people we work with and she needs something good-” 

You nudge the kitchen door open, slipping through it and effectively cutting him off. Scarlet offers you a smile, wrapping her hands tighter around her mug. “Hey, how’d you sleep?” 

You give a half-shrug, pulling the sleeves of your sweatshirt down further around your hands. “Okay. Where’d you disappear off to?” You asked, turning to Coyote. 

He waves a hand at the bag sitting on the counter. “Wanted to get fresh pastries at my favorite bakery in town. Was gonna ask if you wanted to come with, but you were already in the shower.” 

“Yeah, ‘m sorry about that. Needed to shower and then my Dad called.”

“How’s he doing?” You shrug, opening the bag.

“Dunno, we didn’t get that far. Can I?” You ask, looking up at him and he nods. 

“Be my guest.�� 

You pick through the box in the bag, pretending you don’t see the look Javy shoots Scarlet. 

-

You’re propped up against the wall, scrolling through Twitter when Coyote slips through his bedroom door. It shuts with a click behind him as he walks towards the bed. He sighs, nudging your shoulder. “Scooch.”

You sigh and move, allowing him to take your spot as you pull your legs criss-cross underneath you. “You’re supposed to be sleeping on the floor.” You say, shooting him a look. He rolls his eyes, but says nothing more as you snicker. 

Coyote’s house was small, and Robin had insisted you have a bed to sleep in, leaving Coyote to sleep on an air mattress on the floor of his bedroom. It hadn’t actually panned out that way, you and Javy fine with sharing a bed with one another, but what his Mom didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. 

It’s quiet in the room as your eyes continue to flicker over the screen, now reading a thread about the looming possibility of a government shutdown, when Coyote speaks again. 

“You’re not having a good time.” He says quietly and your eyes flick up to look at him, even though he’s pointedly looking at the wall just behind you. 

You sigh, clicking the phone shut. “Coyote, that’s not-”

“You can admit it, it’s okay.” 

“No, no, it’s not that I’m not having a good time, I just-” You sigh again, struggling to find the words to voice just exactly what you were feeling. “You’re family has been wonderful. Your sisters are so funny and your Mom is so kind, it’s just-” You swallow, cheeks feeling hot as tears prick at your eyes. “Holidays are hard for me. They just-” You pause. 

The years when Carole was sick. The year where you were stationed halfway across the world and Dad was declared MIA. The first Christmas after Bradley left. The lonely years with just Ice and Sarah. Being passed around everyone’s Christmas celebrations because they all felt sorry for you. 

“They’re not a good time for me.” You finally say, voice soft in the stillness of the house. 

He sighs. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?” 

“Say something like- say something that might finally let me into the truth about who you are and then stop yourself.” 

You narrow your eyes. “That’s not true, I don’t do that.” 

“Yes, you do!” He insists. 

“You’re my best friend Javy.” 

Suddenly, you’re at a loss for words, not sure what else to say other than that.

“And yet, I don’t know anything about you at all, not really.” 

You scoff, sliding off the bed and stand up. “If you don’t know me at all, then why invite me here? Better yet, why stick around and be my friend? Why stick your neck out for me?”

“Rebel, don’t go there.” He groans, one of his hands coming to rub his temple. You shake your head, clutching your phone in your hand as you walk around the bed and towards the door. “Rebel, where are you going?” 

“Why does it matter?” You mutter, pulling the door open. “I’ll get out of your way.” You slip down the stairs, pausing in the living room. Robin and Scarlet’s attention turns to you and you give them a small smile. 

“Sorry, I, uh- just came downstairs to get some water. Didn’t realize anyone else would still be awake.” You softly, eyes flickering over to the Christmas tree, it’s soft glow the only thing illuminating the room.

“No worries, honey.” Robin says sweetly as Scarlet stands up from the couch. 

“Well, I’m off to bed.” She says. “Goodnight Mom.” 

“Goodnight Scarlet.” 

You walk quietly towards the couch, taking Scarlet’s place as Robin’s mom continues to knit. “Are you having a good holidays, sweetheart?”

You nod, pulling your sweatshirt further around your fingers as you grab a blanket off the back of the couch. “Yes, I am. Thank you so much for having me; you have no idea how much I appreciate it.” 

She waves a hand. “Oh, it’s no trouble at all. I wasn’t all too surprised when Javy called me and told me that he had a friend he was bringing home with him for the holidays. I’ve lost count of the years his good friend Jake has spent the holidays with us.”

You raise an eyebrow at the mention of someone you had yet to hear of but said nothing more on the matter. “Anyways, I was just surprised you wouldn’t be going home for the holidays.” 

You shrug. “I would’ve liked to, but my Dad’s military. I don’t... I don’t get to see as much of him as I would like.” You say softly, crossing your legs under the blanket. 

She looks up at you. “I take it holidays are a tough time for you?” 

You nod silently, saying nothing more.

She sighs, setting her knitting needles down and moving closer to you. She takes your hands within her own, squeezing them. “The years after Javy’s Dad passed were a touch time for this family. Even before he passed it was hard, because he was never home, always traveling the world.” You look up at her. “Holidays can be a tough time for a lot of people, for so many reasons. But this is why you have people in your life to meet you where you’re at, to support you through the hard days, including the holidays. But you have to lean on them for the support.” 

You offer her a small smile. “You raised Javy well. I can tell where he gets his good heart from.” 

She chuckles, smiling. “He’s a good person, isn’t he?”

“The best I know.” She squeezes your hands again as there’s movement on the stairs, a figure appearing in the doorway. 

“The best you know?” You roll your eyes, slumping against the side of the couch. 

“Oh shut up.” He huffs out a laugh, walking into the room. Robin smiles and clears her throat, giving her son her place on the couch. 

“Well, I’m off to bed. Goodnight you two. Merry Christmas.” 

“Merry Christmas.” You both say softly as Coyote settles on the couch, pulling the pillow off the couch and up in to his arms as he sits next to you. He sighs, fingers running over a loose thread on the seam of the pillow. 

“Rebel, I’m sorry. I didn’t meant to upset you. I just- I want us to figure out how you trust me on the ground and not just in the air, but trust isn’t so easily given and I know that’s asking a lot from you, that that might be hard for you to do but I really want us-”

“This is my first Christmas not at home since my Dad was declared MIA.” His head swings over to face you as you continue. “It was a couple years ago and I’d just gotten re-assignment orders days before Christmas Eve. I’m not even really sure where in the world I was, I think  maybe I was in Germany, I don’t really know. But I got the call that night and I’ve just- I’ve always made a point to be home on Christmas since, even if he isn’t there.” 

“Rebel, I-”

“The holidays are really fucking hard for me, especially not being home, but how are you supposed to know that if I don’t fucking tell you? I’ve spent so many years being passed around because people feel sorry for me and it’s not-” You pause, feeling tears sting at your eyes. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, I just don’t-” You swallow. “I don’t trust myself. I don’t have a good track record with friendships and I can think of quite a few of my ex-friends who’d tell you to run in the other direction as fast as you possibly could. One probably wishes I was dead. I mean, you didn’t even like me at first and-”

“And it was a poor judgement call on my part because you are a kickass friend and my life would suck without you in it.” He interrupts.

You let put a watery laugh, reaching out to nudge his shoulder. “Shut up, you can admit I was kind of annoying-”

“Rebel.” He says, narrowing his eyes. “You’re a fucking amazing person and I’m lucky to call you my friend. I didn't invite you here because I felt sorry for you. I invited you here because you’re one of my closest friends and I wanted you to spend the holidays with people who loved and cared about you, even if it couldn’t be with your Dad. The last thing I wanna do is fight with you.” 

You sniff, pulling your sleeve to wipe away some of the tears. “I should’ve just been honest with you.”

“Yeah, but- holidays aren’t so simple. It’s not easy to explain why they’re hard and I understand it. I’ve lived through it and I know better than to an expect an answer.” 

You sigh as he moves closer, wrapping you in a hug. “Let’s go get some sleep and enjoy the rest of our trip, yeah?” 

You nod into his shoulders, wrapping your arms around him. “Yeah, okay.”

“And whatever you need, I’m here, okay?” 

You nod again, squeezing him. “I know.” 

[one-album-wonders]

Seeding for the Bracket Stage

The Bracket is set! 128 UK artists and bands will compete in a knockout challenge to determine the ultimate UK Rock Superstar! The first polls go live Monday, June 5th at noon EST.

1 David Bowie 2 Fleetwood Mac 3 Kate Bush 4 The Kinks 5 Pink Floyd 6 George Michael 7 Depeche Mode 8 Pulp 9 The Clash 10 Queen 11 Radiohead 12 Electric Light Orchestra 13 Elton John 14 The Beatles 15 The Smiths 16 Tears for Fears 17 The Pretenders 18 Franz Ferdinand 19 Bauhaus 20 The Who 21 Elvis Costello & The Attractions 22 The Moody Blues 23 The Cure 24 Eurythmics 25 The Hollies 26 T. Rex 27 George Harrison 28 Sex Pistols 29 Muse 30 The Police 31 Genesis 32 Motörhead 33 The Bee Gees 34 Blur 35 Placebo 36 Joy Division 37 Yes 38 Cat Stevens (Yusuf Islam) 39 Rolling Stones 40 Gorillaz 41 Peter Gabriel 42 The Animals 43 John Lennon 44 Def Leppard 45 Black Sabbath 46 Paul McCartney 47 The Zombies 48 Led Zeppelin 49 Judas Priest 50 Adam and the Ants 51 Wham! 52 Dusty Springfield 53 Cardiacs 54 Arctic Monkeys 55 The Specials 56 Duran Duran 57 Mott the Hoople 58 Dire Straits 59 Oasis 60 New Order 61 Jeff Beck 62 Black Midi 63 XTC 64 Buzzcocks 65 The Yardbirds 66 Amy Winehouse 67 King Crimson 68 Florence + The Machine 69 Robert Plant 70 Davy Jones 71 The Stone Roses 72 Phil Collins 73 Echo & the Bunnymen 74 Killing Joke 75 Suede 76 Van Morrison 77 Pet Shop Boys 78 Siouxsie and the Banshees 79 The Jam 80 The Stranglers 81 Marc Bolan 82 Dexys Midnight Runners 83 Billy Idol 84 Jethro Tull 85 Roxy Music 86 Syd Barrett 87 Bananarama 88 Squeeze 89 CHVRCHES 90 The Jesus and Mary Chain 91 Elvis Costello 92 My Bloody Valentine 93 Gerry Rafferty 94 Sleep Token 95 Donovan 96 Supergrass 97 Ringo Starr 98 Rod Stewart 99 Ozzy Osbourne 100 Roger Waters 101 Sisters Of Mercy 102 The Wombats 103 Wings 104 The Sweet 105 Simple Minds 106 Joe Cocker 107 Iron Maiden 108 Modern English 109 The Ting Tings 110 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark 111 Van der Graaf Generator 112 X-Ray Spex 113 Soft Machine 114 Deep Purple 115 Gary Numan 116 The Pogues 117 Stereolab 118 Jarvis Cocker 119 Manic Street Preachers 120 Herman's Hermits 121 Happy Mondays 122 Bloc Party 123 Cream 124 The Cocteau Twins 125 Erasure 126 Talk Talk 127 The Slits 128 The xx

[simp-ly-kai]

Incubus Madonna x Succubus Michael Jackson with their inkysuccy love child Ed Sheeran with the baby’s mama Rhianna with their love child Neil Ellice when he’s the aunt of Benedict Cumberbatch who is Chris Hemsworth’s adopted mother who is the sister of Morgan freeman who layed an egg that birthed Adele who is having an affair with kim Kardashian who is married to her wife James Charles who is Tobias Forge’s second cousin who has a ghoul love child with Ryan Reynolds who is named Hugh Jackman who has a dog named Will Ferrel and a cat named Jim Carey and finally the mother of all of them Justin Bieber who is married to Justin Timberlake and John Lennon And the story is being told by David Attenborough who married a red kangaroo Who had a dropbear love child. Who had a son Named Arnold Schwarzenegger

Stay tuned for the fan fic🥹

[ink-fireplace-coffee]

Hey

Tell me some stuff about twins. I never do any real person research for my characters but I should really start.

oh wow okay that's a long answer so be mindful of that

also this is all my own experience so if you happen to be part of a pair of twins and wants to chime in, please do so.

Okay first thing first: there are two types of twins. Identical twins and non-identical twins.

I am a non-identical twin. Which means exactly what you can be thinking: my sister and I are nothing like each other physically. She has brown hair and eyes, I have somewhat blondish-brown hair and grey eyes. Our face structure is different, our features are different. Our body is different.

Most of the time people don't even guess we are twins at first! But we are.

Second thing I should probably say: I'm two minutes older than my twin (yes it matters) I'm the older one.

Your set of twins are going to be x minutes apart from the other and that's a number you take to your grave. That's a number you remind them everytime you are in an argument and you want to make a point.

My sister and I grew up in a neighborhood where there weren't any kids out age, so we've spent almost all our childhood together. This translates to use having almost the same exact memories of things, our own language (invented words to refer to something or someone and we talk backwards when we need to say anything with people in front of us), key words that we created when we were little and basically the same childhood!

If you went to my twin and said "the girl and the fence" i know what she's thinking about. And if you told me "Imagine by John Lennon" I can interpret you our own version of the song that we wrote when we were like eight or so.

This means that more often than not we speak at the same time and say the same (I guess you could say it is because we have similar braincell patterns if you want to get scientific, but telekinesis is a much nicer explanation)

Still of course we are not the same person! At all! We both have different hobbies, likes and dislikes and are our own person, even if we still relate to a lot of things. I like to refer to my sister's hobbies as "the same as mine, but in a different direction": we both like reading, but we read different genres; or we both like a sport but for different reasons.

Living with a twin us not living with your best friend. Not always. We fight a lot (as siblings do) over dumb stuff and we are not joined by the hip. Specially not literally since she is in Germany now so...

Maybe this is also just my case, but I've grown so used to people calling me by my sister's name that I answer to it automatically, so maybe that's a twin's thing as well.

In my course, we were four set of twins: two pairs of two boys, us and a pair of a boy and a girl. Of course everyone had different dynamics but I think it's safe to say that almost all of us share that proximity with our sibling the way separate siblings don't do (← can't know for sure cause I don't have a separate sibling just my twin and I)

Somehow, the fact that we shared course, sometimes teachers, a friend group and later on the same class, has made us build our self concept around each other. Being a twin is part of our identity and now that I'm in uni and I'm meeting new people it initially shocks me when they are surprised cause they just found out that I'm not a single kid. Cause I'm clearly half of a set, you know? Still of course I know it's not something visibly clear.

We have a lot (and I mean a lot) of inside jokes, of stories and memories. I think she knows me more than anyone could ever because I've spent all my life with her. There are some childhood grudges as well (like when she ripped the scratch page that smelt like chocolate from my Geronimo Stilton Fantasy Kingdom book)

Aside from that now that we are kilometers away, our day to day conversations usually are either calling the other while we are studying and just talking about whatever or sending us memes and tiktoks saying "that's u" (she just did that as I'm typing this)

If you happen to be part from a set of twins and want to add your own little things or share stories PLEASE feel free to reblog this!!!

Again this is just my humble interpretation of 20 years of being a twin and you might not agree with some stuff which is completely normal!

[designaday]

Ultimate Playlist: Women’s Names, T-Z

Ah, so many letters here at the end of the alphabet that just don’t get much use when it comes to naming women. I couldn’t find a worthy song for X—it’s the only letter missing in the playlist.

Dear Theodosia by Lin-Manuel Miranda Sung by Leslie Odom Jr. as Aaron Burr and Lin-Manuel Miranda playing Alexander Hamilton, the song presents two fathers welcoming their children into the world, declaring that they will fight to make it better for them. Of course, Hamilton’s son Philip dies in a duel defending his father’s honor, Theodosia is lost at sea during a hurricane, and Burr kills Hamilton. Lovely song, though.

Breakfast at Tiffany’s by Deep Blue Something This song is about a couple without much in common who both kind of like the film Breakfast at Tiffany’s (based on a book by the same name), which opens with the main character, Holly Golightly, eating her breakfast in front of the Tiffany & Co. flagship store in New York. Tiffany & Co. is a jewelry store founded by the jeweler Charles Lewis Tiffany. I’m still counting “Tiffany” as a woman’s name.

Sister Tilly by Natalie Merchant Merchant described this one as a love song or all the women in her mother’s generation. It’s both parts lament for their passing and celebration of their feminism and pride.

Uma Thurman by Fall Out Boy This song was inspired by empowered women like the characters Uma Thurman played in Kill Bill and Pulp Fiction. It samples the opening theme from The Munsters.

Valerie by Mark Ronson, sung by Amy Winehouse This song was originally written and recorded by The Zutons. It refers to Valerie Star, a makeup artist and friend of lead singer Dave McCabe. She was arrested for driving on a suspended license.

Valleri by The Monkees Don Kirshner, president and music supervisor of Screen Gems, asked Tommy Boyce and Bobby Hart if they had any “girl’s-name” songs they could use for the Monkees TV show. They told him they did and proceeded to improvise Valleri on their way to his office.

Stuck in a Closet with Vanna White by “Weird Al” Yankovic Al sings to his doctor about the strange dreams he has every night, which all end up with him stuck in a closet with Vanna White, co-host of the game show Wheel of Fortune.

Meet Virginia by Train According to the band, Virginia is “real parts of real woman [sic] that make up a woman that I’ve always wanted to meet.”

Only the Good Die Young by Billy Joel Inspired by Billy Joel’s high school love interest, Virginia Callahan, the song created controversy when it was released, as the protagonist is determined to have sex with a Catholic girl. Religious groups tried to ban it, which of course caused it to shoot up the charts.

Wendy by The Beach Boys Wendy left me alone. Hurt so bad.

Be My Yoko Ono by Barenaked Ladies The singer compares his relationship with the girl he loves to the one between John Lennon and Yoko Ono. This song was the band’s first single, winning them CFNY-FM’s Discovery to Disc contest and enough money to record their first, full-length album.

Zoe Jane by Staind Aaron Lewis wrote this song as a tribute to his daughter, explaining how he feels about being on the road for so long and missing her growing up.

88 Lines About 44 Women by The Nails There’s no better song for the finale of this playlist. They don’t have any women’s names that start with X either.

There you have it. A playlist containing 164 songs and a runtime of 10 hours and 32 minutes.