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mermaidgirl30 · 7 months ago

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✨Dark Shades of Innocence Lost Part 2: The First Taste✨

Club owner! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist Part 1

A/N: It is finally here! Sorry that has taken so long to get updated, but this turned out exactly how I wanted it to. Thank you to @mountainsandmayhem for helping me organize my mood board and for letting me chat your ear off about this series! 🩷

Chapter Summary: You decide to go back to Club Inferno, back to those smoldering brown eyes. Turns out you do want more pleasure from Joel, the club owner.

Rating: 18+ Only MDNI

Word Count: 11.7k

Chapter Tags: Oral (M/F receiving), fingering, dirty talk, pining, flirting, some fluff, pleasure dom! Joel, reader has doubts, reader has hair, no use of y/n, pleasure dom! Joel

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

You spend the next few days at work in a deep haze, your mind completely muddled at the thought of those smoldering dark eyes that haunt your dreams night after night. You can’t concentrate on reorganizing books, can’t focus on your own co-workers as they meander around the library keeping busy while you stand leaning up against a wooden bookshelf doing nothing but looking at the business card Joel gave you.

You mindlessly turn the flashy card over and over in your palm, memorizing his phone number, etching his name into your mind as you read his name over and over and over again until the silhouette of his towering body is burned into your brain. You didn’t call, didn’t text him like you should have done after he made you cum on his thigh. God, you want to though. But is it a good idea? Probably not.

As you shift the paper card around your fingers, you think of those lust blown eyes, that rugged panting noise he made when he was breathing hard against the shell of your ear, the way those thick fingers felt inside you, the way he called you a good girl and whispered how fucking good you tasted.

You slip the card back into the pocket of your jeans and lean your head back against some hardback books in the science section. You huff out and put a hand to your sweating forehead as you fight not to get all worked up again, but it doesn’t work. You’re already wet from thinking about him, so you decide you will see him again. Friday. You’ll go back to the club Friday.

You want more, need more. And so you’ll have him. Friday.

Your dress flows to the middle of your thighs, the sparkly midnight blue material shimmering under the dim lights of the club as soon as you walk through the front doors of Club Inferno. The bar is crowded, people scattered all around as loud music blares through the speakers. The dance floor is packed, bodies spinning under the crystal lights of the disco ball. Your heart gallops in your chest, your mouth dry as you hope he’s here. Please be here, please be here.

You turn toward the lit up bar that’s packed with alcohol lining the back mirrored wall and notice something is different, off. You scan your eyes around and try to decipher what’s changed as you take in the aesthetics of the night club. You peel your eyes over the atmosphere carefully, and you stop in place when you notice it. There’s not just heated red signs around the back walls anymore. There’s now pink ones too, glittering under the dim lights as you furrow your eyebrows up. When did they add the pink signs? Your eyes grow wide at the realization. You mentioned pink signs and how there was too much red last time. He must’ve listened to you…

The pretty blonde bartender snaps you out of your deep thoughts as she gets your attention. “Need a drink, hun?” she asks as she sets two big glasses of beer in front of two gentlemen in suits in front of you.

“Oh, no. Thanks. I was just wondering if Joel was around?” you ask nervously as you look shamefully at her. Hopefully she doesn’t see your cheeks heating up or notice how sweaty your palms are at your sides.

She nods her head behind you and smiles as she says, “He’s actually right behind you.”

You look up at the mirrored wall behind the stacked alcohol bottles and gasp when you see a pair of dark eyes flash in your reflection. You quickly turn around and nearly fall over when you see how handsome he looks tonight. A red button-up collared shirt , sleeves rolled up to the elbows to expose tanned skin with corded veins spiraling down his forearms, clean pressed jeans, and slicked back curls that are threaded with grey. He’s so… gorgeous.

His eyes flick over your body as he rakes a hand slowly through his salt-and-pepper scruff, analyzing your dress, your legs, your eyes. You’re nearly out of breath as he glances your way. “Didn’t think I was gonna hear from you again,” he smiles as he walks up in front of you and stops right where you can smell his woodsy cologne and whiskey scent. He smells so enticing, you could practically swim in the scent if you wanted to.

You shrug and let a sigh out. “Couldn’t keep me away, I guess.”

“Mmm, guess not.” His honey colored eyes trail over your skin again as he smirks and nods toward the bar. “You want a drink?”

“Okay,” you say quietly as he leads you over to some empty black barstools. You know what a drink will lead to, and it makes your skin simmer with lightning running through your veins.

Joel gets the blonde’s attention, and she saunters over and smiles brightly over at him. “What’ll it be, Joel?”

“Glass of whiskey on the rocks and a Malibu tonic?” His eyebrow arches as he looks over at you, needing approval before he sends her off. You just nod and watch as he gives her the go ahead, letting the smooth bar top rub against your fingertips as you view him turn slowly in his barstool, bumping his knee lightly against yours.

“You remembered my drink of choice?” you ask with raised brows.

“Thought I’d forget, hmm?” He leans forward as he puts his weight into his elbow, resting his hand on his cheek as it trails over his greying scruff. You can’t believe you’re sitting here with him again, almost in the same position you were in last weekend. It’s almost too much. His broadness, his height, the way he’s staring at you.

You adjust in your seat, pulling down the fabric of your dress as you clear your throat. “I dunno. Just kind of hard to believe you’d remember something as simple as that about me.”

He assesses you, watching you carefully as his dark eyes flick over your nervous form. “Drinks are simple, easy to remember. It’s you that’s hard to forget. Your face, your eyes, your scent.”

Your eyes grow wide, suffocating on your own breath as the pounding music flits through your ears, your skin forming goosebumps along your inner thighs as those dark eyes gaze into yours, his full attention on you. “My… scent?” you ask all wide-eyed with your mouth slightly agape.

“Mhm. I could smell that pretty waft of vanilla when you were standing by the bar. Almost like I was breathing you in,” he murmurs, his voice all low and gruff as his thick fingers tap against the glossy bar top, his eyes melding into yours like he wants to devour you.

You can feel that thick tension like smoke filling the room, hot embers filing your nostrils as you fight to compose yourself. You lean forward just a bit, enough to brush your knee against his smooth denim, stirring something low that you can’t quite stop.

Before he can lean in, the bartender comes back with your drinks, breaking the tension that was just close enough to drown in. “Enjoy!” She smiles as she leaves to attend to other guests.

You take the straw in your hand, twirling it around the sloshing alcohol and then take a sip, letting the fruity taste wash away your growing arousal between your thighs.

Joel surprises you as he asks a personal question, maybe something to break the tension as he looks up from his amber glass of whiskey. “So, what do you do for work?”

You knit your eyebrows together and swallow another mouthful of the fruity liquid as you eye him suspiciously. He wants to know where you work? Interesting. “I work at the library. Austin Central Library. I’m a librarian.”

He smiles gently your way, eyes all glistening as flecks of dark brown irises crinkle up at you. It’s a softer smile, not the menacing smirk he usually gives you. This one is different. “Should’ve guessed. A book lover who’s also smart? Figures,” he chuckles as he takes a generous gulp of his whiskey. “Say I come in there one day. Would you assist me in helpin’ me find some books? Maybe some classics? Books that maybe others don’t check out as often?”

He raises a brow at you, a glint in his beautiful honey eyes as you laugh and play nervously with the bendy straw that sits in your almost untouched drink. “I mean, I would. Seems like you already know your way around though,” you smirk.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Yeah, reckon I do.”

A loose curl falls over his eye, a strand that looks so soft to the touch. You almost push it back, so close while your hovering hand sits above your tan thigh, almost pushing the limits into other dangerous territory.

You clear your head of the ridiculous notion and push yourself back, watching as he moves the curl away himself. That was a close one.

You tap your long nails on the side of your glass and try your luck. “I was surprised to learn you were the owner of this club.”

He smirks your way and laughs. “Yeah?”

“You do this often? Pick up pretty girls at work and take them back to the dark hallway?” Your eyes narrow while he just shakes his head and laughs.

“No, can’t say that I do. You just caught my attention. I jus’ had to talk to you, at least. You were just so… stunning. Couldn’t pass you up.”

Oh.

Your cheeks burn hot, crimson tinging the skin as you take another large gulp of your alcoholic beverage. You need to calm down. He’s just a guy. He’s probably like the rest of them, but something deep down tells you he’s not.

“How long have you been in the business?” you ask as you swirl the straw around the melting ice cubes.

“A few years. My brother, Tommy, joined the business with me. We still do contracting together on the side, but this is my main gig.”

Contracting? He was a contractor? Fuck, can he get any hotter?

“Contractor, huh?” you ask curiously as your eyes light up with interest.

“That’s right. I like buildin’ things, makin’ things with my hands. It’s sort of relaxin’ to me. The way I can jus’ put together somethin’, imagine anything I want and jus’ build it from scratch. It’s probably my favorite hobby, honestly.”

You find yourself hovering over the clean bar top, leaning against your elbow as you find yourself dreamily gazing at him. You gawk at his crooked smile, stare at the indented dimple in his left cheek as you get lost in his words, in his lively expressions. His low voice is so melodious that you think you could listen to him talk about his hobbies all night long. Maybe even over dinner, at his house, curled up in his lap…

You shake yourself out of your hypnotic daze and smooth your dress out. You shouldn’t get close to anyone. Not after your ex, not after that horrible, horrific…

“Hey, you good?” Joel asks, stirring you out of your hazy thoughts.

“What?” you ask confused as you come back to reality.

“You jus’ looked a little lost there for a second. You alright?” His voice is gentle, deep, and his large hand is even warmer as it glides over the top of your thigh, his touch soothing you back down from dark thoughts you shouldn’t be turning to.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. You were saying?”

He looks at you hesitantly, his eyes flicking over you quickly to assess that you’re really alright, but your small smile reassures him as he continues on.

Your eyes flicker over the flashy signs, the pink hue reflecting off the scarlet red ones, giving it just the right mix of a perfect combination. He sees you staring, and his lips curl up into a big grin as he raises his eyebrows. “What’s got your attention, hmm?” he asks as he looks over at the sparkling pink sign you’re staring at.

“The signs. There’s pink ones now, not just red…” Your voice catches on a whisper, almost being drowned out by the blaring pop song that booms through the speakers, but he still hears you.

“Oh, those. Yeah, some pretty little thing complained that there was too much red. Said I should throw some pink in there. Stubborn thing, a bit moody, but glad I listened to her. It doesn’t look half bad.” He winks at you, and suddenly your heart is in your throat, pumping and making you gasp as he smirks your way with a knowing look in his eyes.

You take your chance to flirt, leaning forward as your fingertips hover over the top of his knee. “Didn’t think you’d listen to me after I was complaining the whole time. Didn’t know I was talking to the owner of the club. You could’ve just kicked me out,” you say with a curt laugh.

He leans forward just a tad, the tops of his calloused fingers laying gently on the top of your thigh as you gasp in response to the heat of his touch. “Sweetheart, now why on earth would I kick you out? You clearly had an affect on me, otherwise I would’ve kept the signs the way they were. And besides,” he leans forward and places his mouth against the shell of your ear, his hot breath dancing across your skin, causing goosebumps to rise. “I wouldn’t have gotten to make you cum on my thigh if I would’ve done that.”

Your breath hitches, your body coming to life as you feel the nerve endings light up against his touch, his breath, his smell. Suddenly, you want more, need more. And maybe he’ll give it to you, just maybe…

“Why’d you come back here?” he whispers in the crest of your ear, his voice falling like drops of water against your heated skin, showering you in a mist of desire. “I don’t think it’s to socialize or find another guy, not even to sit back and grab a drink at the bar.”

You feel his hand ghost over the edge of your hip, his palm hovering over the small of your back as you fight to keep yourself together. “No,” you hum, voice lilting like a fresh rose as your fingertips dig into the denim of his thigh.

His lips slide against your jawline, his whiskey breath fogging your mind as he whispers back to you in a deep, gravelly tone. “So, why’d you come back, angel? You want somethin’ else from me? Want me to give you more pleasure, more ecstasy?”

His gruff voice slides through your body, making the inside of your thighs press together as you feel the sticky slick drip against your lace. He hasn’t even gotten his hands on you tonight, and you’re already drowning in him.

You grab hold of his button-up, clinging to his silky fabric as you feel his coarse scruff drag against the edge of your cheek. You can smell him, almost taste the whiskey dripping down the back of his throat. And you want to taste it, feel it between your legs.

“I… Joel,” you whimper as his other hand trails up your thigh, dragging those thick, calloused fingers up up up until he’s raising the hem of your dress, just enough to drag a low groan from your throat.

“Yeah, s’that right?” he purrs as his lips meet the shell of your ear again.

You hold in a moan as his fingertips trace circles over your heated skin, his hand sliding up to skim the inside of the crease of your thigh, eliciting tingles that start low in your stomach. You want it, want him. “Joel,” you whisper, only low enough for him to hear as you cling harder to his button-up.

“Gotta use your words, darlin’,” he chuckles. “Now, tell me. You want me to take you to the back? Give you more than last time? ‘Cause I’d sure love to taste you, really taste you,” he smirks.

“Are you gonna put me on your thigh again?” you ask breathlessly while his lips trace dangerously over the crest of your ear.

“No, angel. Not this time. Gonna show you somethin’ else. Gonna put my mouth between those pretty legs of yours,” he chuckles while his eyes darken with danger and temptation.

A wave of slick washes over you, and you’re already dripping at the anticipation of having his tongue swallow you whole.

“So, that what you want? Want me to show you how truly good I can make you feel?”

You’re nearly pulling him toward you with how strong your grip on him is as you nod your head up and down like an eager puppy. “Mhm. Please,” you respond with a complacent whine.

He laughs and pulls you out of your seat, keeping his fingers entangled with yours as he grabs his glass of whiskey and drags you along. “C’mon then. Let’s go get ya taken care of.”

He guides you through the dancing crowd, pushing through sweaty bodies as the bass fills your insides, the loud music mixing together with the nerves pulling down your spine as you follow him into the unknown.

The glittery dark walls turn into a narrow hallway as couples making out against the crowded walls step aside when they see Joel. They gawk at him and whisper quiet slurs as you pass them by, probably wishing they were you at this very moment.

He looks back at you and smirks, his grip on you tightening, the shadows making the dark brown flecks in his eyes look almost black. As black as a panther’s fur, eyes that want to pounce and consume you whole. And that just makes your heart hammer loudly against your chest as you stare back into those dreamy pools of desire.

He takes you to the last door at the end of the dark hallway, painted crimson red as he twists the lavish golden handle and presses through, leading you in as he quietly closes it behind him and turns the lock to where no one else can get in. You gulp and try to take a slow breath, but the nerves seem to be crushing down on your lungs. You’re typically quite eloquent, but try as you might, you can’t seem to place what it is you’re feeling. Nervous. Excited. Absolutely panicked. You want this but your mind and body seem to be at odds.

When you turn around, your mouth parts open as you take in the massive room. A large leather couch sits in the middle, a long pool table with red smooth felt coating the top of it sits in the right hand corner. The lights are dim, a lit fireplace sits crackling next to the leather couch, the walls glisten with shimmering black wallpaper, and the feel of the room is homey, warm, private. You can still hear the pounding music and occasional chants of club goers, but it’s mostly quiet in here. The only thing you can hear is the rushing of blood through your eardrums, your heart right along with it.

He lingers by the doorframe, adjusting his sleeves as he carefully rolls them up to his elbows, his smoldering eyes never leaving yours. Suddenly you’re a hot mess, fingers twisting against the hem of your blue dress, your eyes blown wide as you feel your chest tighten at the thought of being alone with him. Joel Miller. The club owner, the absolute menace who was sent to break into your closed up boundaries.

“Where do you want me?” you ask breathlessly.

He stalks toward you, a sly smirk on his face as he starts to back you up toward the leather couch. You have no room to go around, no way to say no, your body just moves pliantly at his command as his thick fingers push gently against your hips.

“On the couch, sweetheart. Right. Here.” He gently pushes you down as you land in a heap on the plush couch. You scoot back, your legs sliding easily over the black leather as you squeeze your thighs together and dig your fingers into the edge of the new material.

You’re suddenly so nervous as sweat pools against the back of your neck, your lips trembling as you watch him take a generous gulp of his amber colored whiskey. You watch the way he moves, his bulging biceps clinging to his button-up, his slicked back curls throwing smoky grey colors under the dim lighting as he turns slowly, ending right between your legs.

He slowly bends down, running his calloused fingers languidly over the curve of your thighs. Your body tenses up, fingers digging into the slick material as your breath hitches at the sight of that smug smirk he has pulling at the corners of his mouth.

He tries to part your legs, but you hold back, afraid to show him what you look like bare. What if he doesn’t like what he sees, what if he suddenly changes his mind, what if he tells you to leave? Suddenly, you’re overstimulated by all the unknowns, and you can barely stand to look into his dark eyes as your own gazes toward the black polished floors.

As if he can sense your blinding fears and see right through your insecurities, his blown out eyes ease up, his eyebrows knitting together as he stares up at you with a look of encouragement. He cups your chin and makes you gaze up, right into the pits of his softening eyes.

“Hey,” he says with a gentle voice. “You nervous?”

You stumble over your words and just nod, letting the gut wrenching feeling slide down your closed up throat. “Mhm,” you nod slowly.

His lips curl up into a gentle smile, and it takes the breath out of you as his dimple caves into the middle of his cheek. One hand lingers on the top of your thigh, and the other grazes softly underneath your chin. “You don’t gotta be nervous now, sweetheart. Jus’ relax, breathe.”

You take a deep breath and blow it out slowly, starting to relax every limb in your body as you cautiously release your fingers from the edge of the couch and lay them by the hem of your sparkly dress.

“There ya go, angel. Jus’ breathe. Can ya do that for me?” You nod your head, and he chuckles lightly. “Good. Now, wanna tell me what’s got ya all nervous?”

You try to look down, but he keeps his hand rested underneath your chin. You squirm a little, shuffling your hips against the squeaky leather, but he stills your body underneath him with his large palm. Your eyes shift up to his, and there’s no escaping those soft chocolate eyes that seem to stare straight into the depths of your shaking soul.

“I just… I haven’t really. I’m not…” Fuck. You can’t even think straight, let alone speak without making a fool of yourself. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe…

He presses his calloused fingers softly against your jawline and furrows his eyebrows as he assesses your stiff features. “Have you ever had anyone go down on you before?” His words are so gentle, not at all condescending which makes you unclench your jaw just a tad.

“I mean, a couple of times, but it wasn’t anything special. Maybe just a few seconds. They didn’t actually make me feel good. I think it was just so they could slide in. It wasn’t for my benefit, guess you could say. So no, I guess I really haven’t,” you mutter as you pout your bottom lip out.

His brows knit together in a tight line, his jaw ticking as he looks at you with a soft gaze. His fingertips leave your chin, and you feel like you’ve just lost a clutch on yourself, but his fingertips land softly on your wrist instead. “Well, that’s a real shame. They must be fuckin’ blind to pass up a girl like you. A real fuckin’ shame, but don’t worry, angel, I’m gonna make you feel so good. I can promise you that. You want that?”

You eagerly nod your head up and down as your words tumble out of your mouth. “Yes, Joel. Please.” Maybe you’re a little too eager because you wrap your fingers firmly around his wrist like you're digging your roots into the tan of skin.

He chuckles lightly and smiles up at you, the dark flecks of his eyes seeming to sparkle under the dimly lit lights of the private room. “You gonna relax for me?”

“Mhm,” you hum out.

“Attagirl,” he winks. You nearly choke on your own saliva at the sound of him saying Attagirl. It’s a simple word, but he’s telling you what a good girl you’re being, and it sends butterflies flitting through your lower belly.

His fingertips start to graze up and down the tops of your thighs, his calloused thumbs dipping down to your inner thighs as he starts to massage the area tenderly. You know what he’s doing, know what he’s capable of doing as he looks up at you with hungry, dark eyes. He wants to devour you, and you sure as hell aren’t going to say no to him. The hottest man you’ve ever laid eyes on wants you. And you sure as hell want him, too.

“Need a little liquid courage to relax a little, hmm?” he asks as he cocks one eyebrow up, his head turning to the side as he looks at you with curious eyes.

“It wouldn’t hurt,” you shrug.

“Alright then, angel. Tip your head back jus’ a little. Gonna give ya a taste of my whiskey,” he says with a sultry tone.

You do as he says, tipping your head back just an inch as you watch him get up from the corner of your eye. He grabs his glass of amber whiskey, swirling it around as the ice hits the edge of the clear cup, making a clinking noise that sounds a lot like how your insides feel. All tingly and alive with nerves pulling low in your gut.

“Tip your head a little more, that’s it,” he approves as he places a hand under your chin and coaxes your lips open with his calloused thumb. “Keep that pretty mouth open now.”

You watch him tip his own head back, taking a large gulp of his whiskey on the rocks. Your eyes grow wide when you see him leaning over you as his thumb pulls your mouth open wider. He lets the alcohol pool out of his mouth like a running faucet, flowing down through your own mouth as the whiskey and the taste of his saliva mix together while it slides slowly down the back of your throat.

“Swallow,” he instructs as he closes your mouth, still hovering over you as he watches you down his taste. You feel the burn simmer through your stomach, taste him on the tip of your tongue as his woodsy cologne sends you into a hazy fog where all you can see is him as his dark eyes begin to grow black.

“Good girl,” he praises. Your mouth gawks open as he sinks back down to the floor, situating himself between the center of your legs as he slowly begins to part them.

He clicks his tongue as he sees your body sewn to the back of the couch. “Now, angel, can’t reach ya all the way back there. C’mere.”

He pulls you to the edge of the leather couch, the palms of his calloused hands latching onto the backs of your thighs. And then he’s parting them, running his fingers nice and slow up the inside of your thighs until he’s hiking the bottom of your dress up over your hips.

You can’t breathe, your voice being held back by the drowned out whines and moans you’re already holding back. You know you’re going to fall apart as soon as his large tongue meets your center, and he’s going to devour you, lick you clean till you have nothing left to give because you just have this feeling that he’ll work you and work you and work you till you’re fully gone. And it nearly drowns out the pulsing energy flowing through your ears.

He drags his lips against your skin, sending trails of kisses up the insides of your thighs as you suck in a breath from the tingling sensations he’s sending straight to your core. He drags his lips higher, lifting your skirt flush over your thighs as he pulls you closer to him while his breath blows gently over your clothed core.

“Look at you, already soakin’ for me,” he purrs as he drags the tip of his curved nose against your clothed folds. Fuck. You hold in a whine, bucking your hips forward as you silently beg him to keep going.

He chuckles out at your response, his dark eyes smoldering as he takes the tip of his thumb and starts to slowly caress your soaked folds. He gauges your reaction, your wide eyes and panting mouth as he starts to circle your clit slowly through the dripping lace.

“Joellll,” you whine out, your manicured nails digging into the leather of the couch.

“Yeah? Does it feel good,” he teases as he presses harder against your buzzing bundle of nerves.

“Mhm, need more. Need you to…”

“Shhh. I’ve got ya, angel. Jus’ gettin’ ya nice and worked up. Want you drippin’ for me. Want this pretty pussy messy and sticky so I can drink you down like a bottle of sweet whiskey,” he purrs with mischief written all over those syrupy brown eyes.

Before you can speak, he takes his tongue and runs it slowly over your clothed core, soaking your ruined lace as you stifle out a moan and buck your hips forward. “Joel, please,” you beg as your heels dig into the surface of the dark floor.

“That’s what I thought,” he teases as his dark eyes shift up toward you. “Now, let’s get these off ya, shall we?” He pulls your lacy panties down your legs and over your high heeled stilettos, bunching up the ruined material and shoving them deep into the pocket of his jeans.

He spreads you wide, your pussy on full display as he sits back on his heels and gawks at you, sliding his palm over his silvery scruff as his eyes blow out wide. He groans, long and deep as he takes in the sight of your dripping core. You can barely breathe as you watch him take you in nice and slow, his eyes alight with fire you want to dip your fingertips into.

“Goddamn. You’re fuckin’ perfect, angel. Look at that pretty pink pussy. Drippin’ and soppin’ jus’ for me, ain’t that right?” He smirks, eyes blowing out into black pits as he leans back down and starts spreading your thighs, his meaty hands holding you down while his cool breath blows over your sensitive center.

You squirm underneath him, feeling sweat pool beneath your long locks as you watch him become mesmerized with your glistening, sticky core. “Joel,” you whisper, barely making a sound as you try to hold yourself back from crushing his face to your center.

“Mmm, yeah. You’re such a messy girl, think I need to clean you up,” he purrs as his thumb lightly traces over your sticky folds.

“Please,”you beg as you groan out with need. “Your mouth, Joel. I need it,” you whine.

“Yeah, ya do,” he smirks. The next thing you know, he’s leaning down and licking a thick, clean stripe all the way from your dripping hole to the tops of your curls above your glistening mound. You moan, body writhing beneath him as he takes his meaty hands and holds your hips still.

“You taste so fuckin’ sweet, angel. Jus’ hold on. Let me take care of this pretty pussy.”

He dives back in, his thick fingers spreading your folds wide as he devours you whole. His tongue languidly slides up and down, collecting drops of slick as he works you nice and slow. Your hips cant up every time his large tongue glides over your buzzing mound, feeling the electric zaps of lightning shooting down your spine when he takes his time and drowns himself in your messy pussy.

He works and works and works you over, drawing meticulous circles around your puffy clit while your eyes roll back, and you toss your head back in full elation. You can feel the energy coursing through your body, feel that aching desire being fed as he feeds on you, flicking his tongue up and down ravenously until you swear you see stars in your vision.

You tangle your fingers into his greying locks, hear him groan under your hold as you fight to keep a grip on yourself. You’re so close to spilling, so close to elated bliss as your body hums beneath your skin.

“Eyes on me, angel. Wanna see those beautiful eyes. Watch me, wanna see you fall apart against my tongue,” he purrs as he licks another long stripe up the center of your folds.

When you snap your eyes open, they go wide as you look at the hungry beast of a man beneath you. He looks completely wrecked, black blown eyes searing into your gaze, his beard dripping in your glistening arousal, his rough tongue working your aching bundle of nerves while his large hands hold your thighs down, making sure you do cum beneath his tongue.

You’re a panting mess, high pitched moans drowning out the blaring music from the other side of the club while you feel yourself start to break. Another wave of slick hits his tongue, and you’re fighting everything inside you to hold on just a little longer.

“Don’t hold back, sweetheart. Wanna see you, wanna taste you. C’mon now, give it to me,” he growls. He pulls your puffy clit into his mouth and sucks, firing off every single nerve ending in your body until you can’t hold on anymore. You’re gone.

“Joel - fuck,” you moan as you feel the tingling sensations run flush down your spine, igniting fireworks in your mind that make you dizzy, and then you’re spilling yourself all over him. Slick builds on his tongue, and he groans while he laps up every bit of it while he growls good girl through the pleasurable licks. He keeps you there till there’s not a hint of slick left between your thighs, he eats you up like a ravenous dog that’s starving for you.

When he’s finished, he looks up and smirks at you with a mischievous smile. “How was that, angel? Did I make you feel good?”

You nod your head up and down slowly. “So good. I’ve never felt anything quite like that,” you pant out as he chuckles up at you.

“Well, that’s good. ‘Cause I’m not done with you yet,” he smirks.

“What?” you ask with wide eyes. Not done with you yet?

“Oh no, angel. That was one orgasm. You’re gonna give me another one.”

“Another one? But I…”

“Know you have more in you, sweetheart. Let me get you there, let me make you lose control.”

He slides you forward, holding your hip down with one of his meaty hands while his other starts to play with your sensitive mound. “I can make you cum in so many ways. This time I’ll take you through with my fingers, know exactly where to get ya,” he smirks, his blown out eyes looking like black pits of desire, a pit you’ll gladly follow him into.

You pant out in a needy whine, watching him drag his middle and ring fingers down your folds, and then shoving them deep into your dripping hole. “Oh,” you moan as he bends his fingers and reaches that spongy, soft spot that makes slick collect on his drenched knuckles.

“Yeah? Feel good?” he asks with a smug smirk on that handsome face, your release still sticking through his greying threads throughout his beard. The sight of it makes you drip more for him, panting out a moan when you respond.

“Mhm, Joel. Feels - so good,” you murmur as you dig your nails into the shoulder of his crimson shirt.

“Mmm, that’s what I like to hear,” he responds while licking his lower lip seductively.

He pushes the back of his thumb into your buzzing clit, drawing slow, meticulous circles while his other fingers pump in and out of you, drawing wet, squelching noises out of you that just seem to turn him on even more.

“C’mon, angel. Tell me how good I’m makin’ ya feel,” he purrs as he continues pulverizing your needy pussy.

“So fucking good. Oh my god, Joel,” you whine as he bathes you in pure ecstasy, coating you in desires you didn’t even know you had in you. All you know is you want more, need more of him.

“Mmm, that’s good, angel. Wanna make you cum again,” he growls as his dark, blown out eyes tear into your whimpering soul.

“Please, Joel. Feels so good. Your fingers, your… fuck,” you whine as he ruts up into you, pushing on that sweet, spongy area that makes slick drip down his huge knuckles.

He chuckles, speeding up his meticulous circles of your clit and thrusting his fingers deep inside your messy hole. The wet noises of his calloused fingers brushing up into you are sinful, filling you to the brim until you can barely hold yourself back. You’re about to cum again, but this time feels much different than the last.

“C’mon now, messy girl. Spill for me, soak me,” he growls as his fingers move faster in and out of you, continuously tormenting you with how fucking good you feel beneath his touch.

“Joel, I’m gonna… gonna…”

“Give it to me,” he demands with the bite of his snarl and blown out black pupils.

One more hit to your spongy walls and he’s knocking the orgasm out of you. His thumb stays clenched down on your throbbing clit, and your orgasm washes through you like a raging hurricane that destroys whole cities with its powerful riptides. You spill yourself, experiencing a new sensation that almost overpowers you as it takes you on the ride of your life. You start squirting, your elated moans filling the emptiness of the room as you release hot, damp slick all over his crimson button-up.

“Oh fuck yeah, angel. That’s a good fuckin’ girl. Goddamn,” he praises as his fingers slowly massage your insides, working out your mind blowing orgasm as you fight to keep yourself upright.

The arousal glistens on his salt-and-pepper scruff, slick coating the front of his soft material, while he’s knuckles deep into your dripping pussy as you take in just how fucked out he looks. He looks so hot with his messy curls falling down into his blown out eyes, his tongue licking his bottom lip seductively while he works you nice and slow with those meticulous fingers of his. He’s a work of art, a perfect masterpiece that you don’t want to stop looking at. He’s everything you really ever wanted in a man. And he looks so wrecked.

His eyes narrow playfully, black pits that swallow you whole as he hooks your tired legs over his broad shoulders and slides you to the very edge of the damp leather couch. His breath blows over your sensitive center, and you can barely tolerate anymore.

“Joel,” you whine, feeling like you have nothing else to give.

“S’okay, angel. One more, give me one more,” he coaxes as he melts his mouth down to your over sensitive core.

You have no room to speak, nowhere to go as he melds his tongue against your folds, dipping inside you, stroking languid licks against your aching clit that’s pulsing and so sensitive. He takes you past the edge, past all your boundaries as you dig your fingers into his mop of messy curls.

“Joel, it’s too much. I can’t cum again. I can’t…” you whine as he pops his mouth off your puffy clit.

“You can, angel. One more. Give me one more,” he purrs as you nod your head and hold in a whine. He takes his tongue and licks a thick strip all the way up your core, collecting slick against his tongue while he works up another building orgasm that you didn’t know you had left in you.

His fingers curl into you, reaching your spongy walls as his tongue pulls your drenched clit into his warm mouth. He sucks and drools over you, mixing his own saliva into your slick clit as he sucks and slurps on your aching core.

“Joel, I think I’m about to…”

“That’s it, angel. One more time, let me hear those pretty moans. Say my name. Say it,” he slurs as he pushes his nose into the curls above your mound and licks feverishly against your puffy clit.

“Ahhh, Joellll,” you moan as you feel your slick wash through you, coating his tongue as he generously laps you up, panting between licks as he holds your hips down to lavish in your white hot release.

Your breath comes in waves, leaning your head back into the cushion of the leather couch as you watch him languidly clean all the slick from your sore, over sensitive pussy.

When he’s finished cleaning you off, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and smirks up at you with that devilish, handsome grin you burn into the back of your buzzing brain. He pulls the skirt of your dress down and pushes himself up, collapsing into the spot next to you on the plushy couch.

You both sigh, breathing heavily as he looks over at you and smiles, his blown out eyes relaxing into honey glazed eyes that burn holes through your vision. He’s so pretty when he smiles, eyes alight and his messy curls falling into his sweaty forehead. He looks fucking wrecked, but he looks so good like that. You wonder what he’d look like with you between his large legs…

“How was that, hmm? Did I exceed your expectations?” he smirks as he lets his head fall back into the couch, glowing eyes staring right through you.

You smile, taking a deep breath as you let your aching muscles relax. “That was the best three orgasms of my life. You’re pretty… amazing,” you beam as you see the hint of a sparkle in those thick pools of honey.

“Glad I could make ya feel good, angel. You deserve it, and I’m so happy that I could be of some assistance,” he chuckles as his calloused fingers slowly trail up and down your thigh, a gentle rhythm that puts you at ease.

Suddenly, you feel like you should move, get up from this couch full of comfort. You want to make him feel good. You should, after he coaxed three insane orgasms out of you, you feel as if you owe him. And you want to, need to give him the same. So you will. Right now.

You slowly slide from the couch, ending on your knees as you crawl between his legs, laying your hands flat on his jeans while your fingertips dig into the meat of his thighs. You want to taste him just like he tasted you.

“What are you doin’ down there, angel, hmm?” he asks curiously with one eyebrow raised high on his forehead.

You brush your fingertips higher, hands now resting on his leather belt. “What does it look like I’m doing?” You smirk up at him and watch his eyes darken with desire.

He runs his tongue smoothly over his bottom teeth and gives you a crooked half grin that makes you weak in the knees. “Thought you didn’t like goin’ down on guys, sweetheart. Change your mind?” His jaw ticks, and he looks at you as if he’s teasing you in the best possible way.

You smile sweetly up at him and say, “Well, you’re not just any guy,” you laugh as you roll your eyes. “You’re not them, you gave me pleasure first, indescribable bliss. So let me repay the favor. I want to do this. You didn’t ask, I just want to give you exactly what you gave me.”

He leans forward, narrowing his dark eyes as he smirks devilishly your way, licking his lower lip as he gazes hungrily into your eyes. “Think you can handle it?”

Your breath hitches, watching the way he’s teasing you, dark eyes alight with mischief written in those flecks of black charcoal. If he thinks that’s turning you on again then he’s absolutely right. You’re already so wet again, slick pooling in between your sticky thighs.

You lean forward and undo his leather belt as you toss it to the floor in a heap, smirking smugly up at him. “Oh, I can handle it.”

He cocks a thick eyebrow up and relaxes into the slick couch, spreading his legs as he nods down to his jeans. “Alright then, sweetheart. Let’s see what you can do with that pretty mouth of yours.”

You giggle silently and smile up at him, leisurely unzipping his zipper and tugging down his denim jeans, along with his black boxers. When his erect cock springs free, you gawk over how absolutely massive he is. His long, thick cock is leaking precum, the swollen red tip of him begging to be touched. He’s so fucking big that you can barely form a coherent sentence, he’s absolutely sensational.

“What’s the matter, angel?” he teases as he cocks his head to the side, a sarcastic smile tugging at his plush lips. “Think you can still handle it?”

You watch him carefully, narrowing your eyes as you smirk up at him. He’s challenging you, coaxing you to take a hold of him. He doesn't know yet that you can’t pass up a challenge, especially when it comes to him. You may be timid most of the time, but this time you need to show him that you can handle him.

You lean forward, inching your hand over his muscular thigh until you’re ghosting over his weeping cock. “Oh, I can handle it. Watch me,” you smirk.

He lifts his brows like he’s trying to figure you out, like he wants to crawl inside your scrambled mind until he finds exactly what he wants to know. But somehow he knows you can handle it, so he leans back into the leather and nods his head. “Go on, then. Handle it,” he challenges.

You lick your glossy lips seductively as you reach your hand around the girth of his thick cock, slowly spreading the building precum up and down his shaft as you indulge in the wet sounds your hands are making working up and down him. He groans, shifting his hips forward as he relaxes his back against the leather of the couch.

Keeping your eyes on him, you lean down and slowly lick up the thick vein on the underside of his cock, languidly taking your time and ending at the tip as you swirl your tongue in slow circles over his swollen red head.

“Christ,” he groans, his dark pits turning carnal as he watches you take him in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks out as you start to bob your head up and down slowly, one hand at the base working the bottom of his shaft while your spit mixes with his precum.

You feel him squirm underneath you, his cock spasming in your mouth as you take him deeper, feeling your drool coat his slick cock as you suck him and tease him with your tongue, your hand, the back of your throat. He tastes so good, the salty bitterness sliding down your throat as you drink him down like he’s a fresh glass of sweet lemonade on a hot summer day in Austin.

You take a breather, pulling off of him as you wrap your hand around his large length and start spreading your drool over him, making him messy as you smile sweetly up at him.

He looks at you with cloudy eyes, looking absolutely fucked out as he takes you in. Messy lips, lip gloss smeared over his slick cock, a bead of drool connecting from his weeping tip to your lower lip, cheeks flushed pink as you look up at him with glossy eyes. He thinks you’re fucking perfect, a vision only the gods should see. And he feels as if he’s won the lottery because you’re a goddamn treasure.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Didn’t know you were so good with that pretty mouth of yours. Not too shy now, are ya?” he chuckles as he traces your bottom lip, catching the strand of drool that connects you to him like an intricate spider web spun around his swollen cock.

“Guess not,” you say as you shake your head. The way he’s looking at you seems intimate, even through his big, blown out eyes, it’s like he’s fawning over you, the position you’re in, between his knees, hand wrapped around his shaft, drool pooling in your mouth. It’s too much, too affectionate, you’re suddenly a blushing mess.

“Well, go on, angel. Keep goin’. Bein’ such a good girl with that pretty mouth, don’t stop on my account,” he chuckles, sliding his tongue menacingly over his bottom teeth as he winks at you.

You feel crimson fill your cheeks as you get back to work. You take him back in your mouth, slowly sliding down, down, down until you’re nearly choking on him. You make a muffled, gagging sound around him, and he tenses under you, groaning your name as he takes a hand and wraps it around your hair, holding it out of the way as you devour him.

“Attagirl, that’s it,” he hisses through his teeth when you go back down on him, your tongue twirling around his tip after you slide up and down the shaft of him, ending at his balls while you suck and wet them with your drool and spit.

“Goddamn,” he moans, cupping the back of your neck while your hair is wrapped firmly around his hand. When you come back up to the red, angry tip, he rasps out. “Think you can take me deeper, sweetheart?”

Your heart speeds up, pulling itself into your throat as you swallow back any hesitation. He’s so big, it’ll be hard, but you’ll try. As long as he can guide you, you think you can do it.

You slowly nod your head up and down, taking a nice, deep breath while you still have the chance. “Mhm, yeah. I can try,” you pant out as he smiles warmly down at you.

“Alright, angel. Gonna guide you, okay? Jus’ wrap your hand around my wrist if it gets too much. Don’t wanna take you past your limits,” he chuckles, placing his large hand back where it was, keeping your hair wrapped around his calloused fingers.

You open your mouth wide, taking him back in your mouth while he slowly guides you down against him. You hollow your cheeks, opening your throat as he takes you down down down until your nose is grazing against the coarse, dark hair at the base of him. When you come back up again, breathing fresh air through your nose, he asks if you’re okay. When you nod your head yes, he smirks and takes you back down.

He speeds up his movements, guiding you back and forth down on his messy cock as he starts to fuck up into your mouth. The pacing is swift, erratic, desperate as he drives your mouth down on him over and over again. You’re so fucking full of him that obscene, squelching noises are coming out of your throat while you mouth fuck him again and again and again. You’re drowning in your own saliva, the drool pooling out of your throat and onto his large length while you gag and choke on his massive cock.

You can’t hear the thumping music out on the dance floor anymore, can only hear his stifled moans and the throat fucking noises reverberate across the dimly lit private room. Your eyes water, mascara running down your eyes while his hand tightens and pulls firmly on your hair, your own moans filling the space while you slip one hand under your dress while the other grips the end of his shirt.

You circle your aching clit, feeling pleasure run through your body while he ruts his hips into your mouth and chokes on another heated moan. “Look at you, angel. Already soakin’ again, yeah? Chokin’ on this fat cock made you wet again, hmm?” he teases as he lifts your mouth up and watches the drool pool from your tired mouth.

“Mhm, it did,” you nod as the breath leaves your body, his salty taste still lingering in the back of your throat while your hand goes back to slowly working him up and down.

You moan out in pleasure, feeling the precipice of your orgasm about to wash over you as he watches with wrecked black eyes. “Gonna cum again, angel?”

“Ye- yeah,” you pant as you feel the white hot sensation start to take over, feeling your muscles collapse beneath your knees as he places a sturdy hand on your shoulder to keep you from falling over. “Joelllll,” you scream as he works you through your orgasm.

“Oh, fuck yeah, sweetheart. Such a good girl spillin’ for me again. There ya go, what an angel,” he purrs as you fight to keep your eyes open, feeling the aftershocks of a fourth orgasm in just under an hour. You’ve never cum this many times, but also you’ve never met a man like Joel. A pure menace that keeps you on your toes.

He keeps you upright while you lean into his meaty thighs, one hand languidly stroking him up and down while the slick and drool collects in your palm. “Joel,” you whine with a pathetic cry that whimpers from your throat.

“What do ya need, sweetheart? Tell me what you want,” he coaxes, his thick fingers massaging the back of your shoulders gently.

“Want to… want to finish you off. Wanna make you cum,” you groan out.

He looks down at you, gentle brown eyes gazing through you as a light chuckle comes from his lips. “You seem pretty tired, darlin’. You sure you can…”

“Yes,” you snap, eyes heating into his like a swirling fire. “Let me finish you off. Gag me, Joel. Fuck my mouth, please,” you beg.

He chuckles out, eyes blowing back out as he smirks your way. “Such a dirty girl, ain’t ya? Alright, sweetheart. Since you asked so nicely, I’ll jus’ give ya what you want.”

He grabs a fistful of your hair, holding you in place as he brings his weeping cock up to your mouth and thrusts in, hitting the back of your throat while you gag and swallow him whole, his massive cock hitting the back of your throat repeatedly. You sit there and take it, on your knees while your hands dig into the meat of his thighs.

His thrusts speed up, snapping his hips into the air as he grunts and swallows your name on elated moans. “That’s a good fuckin’ girl, yeah. Takin’ me so well, sweetheart. Goddamn,” he grunts as he thrusts harder into the back of your throat.

He’s so close, you can feel it by the winded breaths and breathy moans, his body coming to life every time he ruts up into you. It’s like he’s everywhere all at once, his salty cum sliding down your hot throat as you feel him about to burst.

“Fuck, I’m not gonna last any longer, angel. I’m gonna… gonna cum,” he huffs as he tightens his fist through your messy curls. You inhale his musk, the smell of sweat and sex consuming you while he mouth fucks you nice and hard.

Just when you feel like you’re about to run out of breath, he thrusts deep inside your throat, your nose gliding against the base of his coarse hairs when you feel his cock spasm around the back of your throat. Before you know it, hot ropes of white cum are filling you, shooting down your closed up throat as you drink his salty release down.

“Christ,” he groans as he releases the last of his cum, filling you nice and full with the white spurts of him.

He releases his grip in your hair, pushing you back as he slowly slides out of your drool encased throat. When you finally take a breather, you cough a few times, choking on nothing until you’re panting out in raspy breaths.

You see him tuck himself back into his boxers, sliding his jeans up his hips as he zips himself back up and reaches down, cupping your chin as he takes a good look at the absolute wreck he made you.

“Look at you,” he laughs, gazing into your tear soaked eyes while his thumb gently grazes against your drool covered mouth, lip gloss covering half your chin. “Really did a number on ya, huh?” he teases.

“Looks like it,” you smile.

He smiles back, and it’s so warm that you have to stop and take a long, deep breath. He’s positively radiating right now, and it makes something tug hard inside your core. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” he asks.

He unbuttons the red collared button-up quickly, throwing his pristine white t-shirt over his head. And you can’t help but gawk at his tanned, glowing skin and the ripped muscles he has against his broad chest. He’s fucking gorgeous, he almost doesn’t even look real.

“C’mere,” he chuckles as he takes the soft t-shirt and cleans you off, running the cotton material against your messy mouth, your rainy eyes, your clumpy mascara, your sweat covered forehead. He’s so gentle with his large hands, almost delicate as he traces every inch of your face until you’re all cleaned up. You can’t help but stare at him the entire time he takes care of you. You’ve never had this, never known this.

Why was he doing this for you? Surely he’d just leave you to clean up after yourself, but he doesn’t. He does it for you.

“There ya go, all better,” he smiles gently, his caramel eyes a lighter brown as he stares back at you, something warm and admirable in his flecked starry eyes. It’s nothing like you’ve seen before. It’s new, uncharted territory. “Feel better?”

“Yeah,” you say in a daze, still on your sore knees while you stare up at him, eyelashes batting slowly.

“Good, that’s good,” he nods slowly, thumb still trailing along your jawline smoothly. It’s like you’re in a fog, your mind racing at whatever this is. He’s a menace, but he’s also so, so… caring. You almost can’t say the word.

He throws on his silky shirt again, butting the small buttons as he covers his tanned, hairy chest. You almost mourn the loss of his sweaty, glistening chest.

“What are you still doin’ on the floor?” he laughs as he scoots over to the edge of the couch, leaving the left side open for you.

“Oh, I don’t know. Guess I got stuck,” you giggle as you shake your head, but honestly you’re just so tired, and you can’t stop looking at his mess of curls and honey colored eyes that you want to slip into.

“Well, c’mon now. Let’s get you up. C’mere.” He lifts you up off the hard floor, turning you around to where you’re facing the opposite way. He leans back into the armrest of the chair, parting his legs as he scoops you up into his lap and pulls his arms around your waist while one hand gently slides up and down your bare right arm, his fingertips trailing against smooth skin.

Your body is so confused, muscles tensing with every stroke of his thumb. You shouldn’t stiffen up, shouldn’t shy away from him because he feels so warm, but yet your body doesn’t even know what’s happening. Why is he being so soft, so gentle? Your mind must be playing tricks on you. This isn’t normal. At least not normal for you…

Joel immediately notices your tight, strained muscles and carefully grips your shoulder. “Hey, why are you so tense? Hmm?” he asks with knit together brows, looking down at you with concern lathered all in those syrupy eyes.

You shrug, giving him your best perplexed look at you flutter your long lashes up at him. “I don’t know, guess I’m just known to be a little tense,” you whisper out, your eyes still staring up into those pools of warmth.

He smiles at you, chuckling out as he rubs the back of your neck, his thick fingers feeling like magic as they gradually dance over your smooth skin. “Relax,” he coaxes as he slides you up further on his lap, resting one arm lazily over your hip and the other drawing gentle circles in the crease of your arm.

Relax. The word slips through you, pulling every tense muscle out of its binds, releasing you slowly from any worries or anxiety in your buzzing mind. You’re here with Joel, you can relax. You don’t have to always go into fight or flight mode after being physical. This is a safe space. He is a safe space.

You nuzzle into the middle of his chest, resting your hand on the warm button-up as your hand brushes right over his beating heart. You can feel it beat a million miles an hour, the galloping hooves pumping in his veins. You also feel your own heart, steady and pacing wildly, and they start to mix together slowly.

Thump, thump, thump. It’s like your beats almost match his. A swift race of only two bodies colliding into the other, both running toward the other until you mesh into one. Two falling stars predestined to fall together. Binary stars.

You nestle your cheek into the cotton of his button-up, your hand slipping under his shirt as you feel hot, sticky skin and the flex of strong muscles. He flexes his arm across your back and languidly strokes up and down your spine, calming you of any tension and putting your tired muscles at rest.

He smells so good, woodsy pine scents sticking to his flannel, sweet whiskey collecting on his tongue, and maybe the hint of some kind of tobacco in his hair from the wild crowd outside this room’s door. You get so lost in his scent that you just now realize he’s stroking the back of your head, fingers combing through your locks of hair as he caresses your lower back with his other hand.

You close your eyes, breathing him deep as you relax into his soothing touch, feeling every brush of his calloused fingertips as he rubs the back of your head gently. Your eyes flash open when you realize just what this is. Aftercare.

Aftercare? Joel was giving you… aftercare? But why? No one had ever given you that. Why would he want to give you that?

He rips you out of your distant thoughts, his deep, gravelly voice blowing gently through your ear. “You okay?” he asks as he trails his index finger up and down your wrist. You wish he’d never stop.

“Mhm,” you hum as you nuzzle into his arm, wrapping yourself around it as you hear him chuckle lightly above you while his head comes to rest on the top of your head.

“You thirsty?”

“Yeah, actually,” you murmur against the cotton material rubbing softly against your cheek.

“Alright, let me jus’ go grab some water for you, sweetheart.” He shifts his weight carefully, sliding out from underneath you as he positions you against the soft cushion of the couch. “You gonna be alright if I’m gone for a few minutes?”

You flick your eyes up to his and nod sleepily. “Mhm.”

“Okay, angel. Be right back.”

Before he goes, he softly caresses your cheek with the back of his hand and then makes his way toward the door. He tugs it open, allowing the flow of carrying music to enter the room until he closes it gently, making the loud music suddenly go silent.

You breathe out a sigh, relaxing into the black leather as you place your fingers against the seat of the cushion. You still smell him, that whiskey and woodsy scent you could get drunk off. It engulfs you, makes you drunk with need. And then you feel that low tug when you think of those smoldering dark eyes and that lazy, crooked smile that seems to send your heart into a full on race.

You’re getting attached to him. You shouldn’t, you don’t need another shattered heart. But maybe Joel would be different, he is different. So maybe you need to let your concrete walls down again. Maybe for him you would…

You close your eyes, concentrate on soothing the growing ache in between your legs, breathing in his cologne that’s left lathered in the leather on the couch. It’s soothing, almost like a bedtime melody that can hum you to sleep. You’re so close to fading off, drifting into a calm sleep until you hear the rustling noise of a door being opened and the sound of party goers float through the dimly lit room.

Once you push yourself to a sitting position, Joel joins you next to you on the couch, skimming his denim jeans against your bare leg. “Sorry I took so long. Thought you might be hungry, too.”

Before you can ask what he means, he brings a basket of golden chicken fingers around his side and hands it to you, while his big brown gaze smiles back at you. Your mouth drops open, and you gawk at him. Chicken? He remembered what you said.

Blinking once, twice, three times in shock, you finally reach out and grab the red basket while your fingertips brush against his. “Chicken fingers? I didn’t think you had any food here? I thought you said…”

He laughs and places his hand on your thigh softly. “Well, if I remember correctly, some random girl just waltzed in here last weekend and started complaining ‘bout there not bein’ any food. Specifically chicken.”

He raises his brows and smirks your way, continuing his conversation. “She got me thinkin’ maybe I could use a private menu, somethin’ not open to the public jus’ yet. Maybe she wants to try it out first, hmm?”

You narrow your eyes playfully, grabbing a piece of a fried chicken finger and breaking off half. “Yeah? Maybe she does want to try,” you say flirtatiously. When you take a bite of the delicious goodness, you can’t help but groan at the taste of it. “Holy shit, this is really good,” you reply with a little bounce in your seat.

He chuckles and smiles, grabbing the other half from your hand and bites into it. “Yeah? That good?” he laughs as he folds himself back into the cushion of the couch.

“Yeah,” you reply with a smile wide on your face.

He changed the signs for you, made chicken for you, made you feel pleasure like you’ve never known before in your life, gave you aftercare. Joel was… something out of a dream. So charming, handsome, dominant but yet so soft. You really needed to be careful with this one.

The red embers in the fire crackle in the corner while you and Joel talk about books, hobbies, music, your likes and dislikes. And it’s so easy as you fall back into laughter with him, flirting and smiling to each other while the both of you sip on iced waters and finish off the crispy chicken.

“Why’d you do it?” you ask quietly, after the chicken is finished off and you sit with your legs sprawled across his lap, his calloused fingers running slowly up and down your smooth skin.

“Do what?” he asks, cocking his head to the side as those pools of honey flood your mind.

“The pink signs, the chicken, and whatever else you changed that I didn’t notice.”

He looks at you a minute, his honey eyes glazing over yours while his greying scruff catches the dimly lit lighting of the glowing room. And it looks like he’s contemplating if he wants to say anything or not. He slightly shrugs and smiles over at you. “Guess it jus’ took a special girl to open my eyes.”

“Oh,” you gulp.

Special girl? He thinks you’re special? Oh.

His eyes never leave yours, those smoldering brown eyes you can’t get enough of. And you’re afraid you’re already falling hard.

You nod to his pocket that he stuffed your panties in and raise an eyebrow at him. “You gonna give me those back, Mr. Club Owner?” you tease as he smirks over at you with a devilish glint to his dark eyes.

“I don’t think so, angel. Think I might jus’ keep ‘em. Besides, they look better off you,” he winks as your cheeks flush red.

You shake your head and laugh. “You’re a menace, Joel. You know that?”

He throws his head back and chuckles loudly as his laugh carries around the large room. You love it, the sound of his deep, infectious laugh. You’re in big trouble, and you know that now. But there’s no going back now, it’s too late for that. He’s already had a taste of you, and you want more.

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#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller pedro pascal #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fan fiction #dom!joel miller #joel miller fic #joel x female reader #joel the last of us #tlou fanfiction #no outbreak!joel miller #no use of y/n

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aangelinakii · 2 months ago

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VENUS AS A BOY.

— kisses hidden behind shelves.

summary : jason takes you down to the library so he can take out some books — a trip you don't enjoy so much. but jason knows how to make it a little more bareable.

note : thank you anon for requesting !' sorry it took some time and sorry if it's a little short i haven't been sleeping well 😭😭 hope you enjoy nonetheless !!

when jason had dragged you (truly, you had begged him to take you wherever he was going, and now you understood why he was being so secretive) down to the library to take out some books, you inwardly sighed. obviously, you loved your boyfriend, but you were not a reader.

lethargic from the lack of activity, you attempted to lean against jason a few times, only to be casually shrugged off. he wasn't one for physical affection in public, you knew that, but when you weren't doing anything, what else was there for you to do but cling to your brick wall of a boyfriend like a koala?

"i'm bored," you huffed, leaning against the tall bookshelf as jason brought you down into the classics section, watching with tired eyes as he scanned the spines of the various tucked-away books.

jason gave a chuckle from where he stood, turning his broad back to you as he looked to the books in the shelves on the other side. "i know you are." his voice was calm, understanding, as it always was when he spoke to you, and you couldn't help but succumb to a smile. "i'm just gonna be a few more minutes."

trying to purse your smile, your arms came up to fold across your chest. "how many minutes, though? i want specifics."

pulling a hardback jane austen from the shelf, your boyfriend spun around to look at you, that smile of his growing to a grin as he took in your boredom. "dunno," he hummed, taking a step forward to bring a hand up to your hair, tough fingers tugging playfully on a few strands. "ten minutes? does that make this any better?"

head softly yanking with the pull of your hair, a laugh brushed over your lips.

after not having any affection with him since you woke up together that morning, the sensation of his knuckles brushing against your jaw as he pulled his hand away sent a rush of shivers along the length of your spine. you leaned into him for more, but jason only stepped away, starting down the aisle.

he had to be doing this on purpose now.

"where are you going?" you asked, lagging behind for a moment before you realised he was turning the corner to the next aisle, his green eyes glinting in the sunlight pouring in through the windows.

"to the horrors," you heard jason's voice reply, getting further and further away.

not trying to be too clunky as you moved down the aisle, you quickly rejoined jason as he turned into the horror section, that jane austen book still hanging by his hip.

your boyfriend, the muscular giant he was; soft with his touch, despite himself, soft with his interest in romantic literature. what was he doing in the horror section?

"didn't know you read horror," you muttered as you came up behind him, joining his side.

with one coy, "i don't," your eyebrows rose in surprise as your back hit some of the book spines of the shelf behind you, and jason was hovering over you, fingers reaching for the wooden shelving.

before you could respond, jason's lips were against yours, the skin on the bottom slightly cracked, but the pressure feather-light. he lingered, free hand dancing along your jaw, and your lips curled against his, a soft smile.

however, as much as you wanted to wrap your arms around his neck, pull him closer, envelope him, you knew it would be over as soon as it'd began. and you were right, for he was pulling away shortly, the dust of a blush evident along his cheeks.

with a step back, jason stuck a hand in his back pocket, tongue running over his lips self-consciously.

but you wouldn't let him off so easy. instead of smiling and attempting to get another kiss out of him before his mind changed, you decided to grin over at him cheekily. "wanna try again, get another angle for the security cameras?"

jason sighed, already beginning to step down the aisle. "don't even joke." he sent a glance back, trying to conceal the smile you knew was aching to appear. "i'm done. let's get out of here."

#aangelinakii #dc #dc comics #dc imagines #dc reactions #dc headcanons #dc universe #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd reactions #jason todd fluff #jason todd imagines #jason todd headcanons #Spotify

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fuckyeahgoodomens · 10 months ago

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David and Michael in the interview with Ali Plumb for BBC Radio 1, 10th July 2023

I compared it with it's podcast version and there are some bits that are cut out in the video 👀 but I added them into the transcript ❤ 🐍😊 .

AP: If you're thinking I'm the kind of guy that rocks up to a Good Omens interview with...

Michael: With the book.

David: Oh, well done.

Michael: We'd be correct.

AP: Yeah.

[GOS2 Promo]

AP: So after such a successful and well received first series, what gives you guys?

David: Why risk it?

AP: Why risk it.

Michael: What gives you the right?!

AP: What gives you the cojones to do another one?

Michael: I know.

AP: How dare you?

Michael: It's terrible. When I wrote it.... Well, no, I mean, that's the thing, really, I mean, it's Neil and Terry's baby. And we'd always known that they'd gone beyond the world of the first book. In fact, there's stuff that's not in the first book, in the first series. So Gabriel is a character, you know, who's not there. So we'd always known that there was a lot more.

David: The ideas, the threads.

Michael: Exactly. And they even had a name for a sequel. 668: The Neighbour of the Beast. Which is hilarious.

[A cut out part that is not in the video, but you can listen to in the podcast version of it:

AP: Just take, write the joke and then work it out later.

Michael: The best Good Omens joke isn't even in the Good Omens book.

David: Yeah.

Michael: And so we knew there was all that. So I think given that, that gave certainly us the confidence to know that we were in, you know, safe hands.

David: Yeah.

Michael: And I think gave Neil the sense that it was worth exploring, going further, because I think without that, he would never have done it. If he didn't feel that Terry was part of that ride as well, then I don't think he would have gone on it.

]

AP: At the risk of reading from the scripture, this is what's in the hardback copy of Good Omens: 'Why isn't there a sequel? Neil: Well, we know how the sequel goes. We played around with the idea whilst we were on tour. We even discussed a few scenes, but we could never quite work up the enthusiasm. It'd have been fun. We'd split the cash. But we both had other things to do'.

Michael: Yes. It's very much how we felt, isn't it? We'll split the cash.

David: Yeah.

AP: And run.

Michael: You know, and if we got nothing else on.

David: Well, yeah.

Ap: And you kind of enjoy each other's company?

Michael: I mean, enjoy is a strong word.

David: We're very good at faking it.

AP: Actors. I love it.

David: Yeah, exactly, exactly.

Michael: Yeah, exactly.

AP: When, outside of a show's context or the film's context, have you felt physically, visually the silliest? Because I think in this show there have to be moments. Green screen, full orange wig hair, that you go, no one take a photo of me right now.

David: The opening scene of Season Two is set in space and we're dressed as sort of old fashioned-

Michael: That makes it sound like sort of an episode of Blakes 7 or something, it's not Sci-Fi space, is it?

David: There's nothing wrong with that.

Michael: No, there's nothing... I mean I love it.

David: Jesus,

AP: Are you stepping up saying Sci-Fi's rubbish at this-

Michael: No, no, no! Of course not! No. But what I'm saying is-

David: I don't know who this is

Michael: David is making it sound like it's like Aziraphale and Crowley are in a rocket ship.

David: It is set in space!

Michael: Well, yeah.

David: First series set in space! You can't... it's just factual.

Michael: But not like space 1999.

David: Just space.

AP: It's pure, undiluted space.

David: It's set in space. In fact, it is undiluted space. And for that, we were dressed as a traditional angel in a sort of nighties...

Michael: Yes, we weren't in silver spandex.

David: We were in nighties.

Michael: We were.

David: And we were strapped to make this floating in space - and they didn't have this on Blakes 7 - we were strapped onto these gurneys and moved up and down.

[hehe bonus pic :)]

Michael: I had a jetpack.

[again, cut out in the video but present in the podcast version

David: I mean, it looks beautiful. The finished, the finished piece.

Michael: It was very odd, wasn't it? Yes. We were both sort of just like.

David: Yes.

Michael: Hovering around each other.

David: And it was, it was ignoble. Some of the being strapped in and out.

Michael: It was. Yeah.

]

AP: At least it's not Jon Hamming into a room... full Hamm.

[GOS2 Promo]

[again, cut out in the video but present in the podcast version

David: The naked Hamm? The naked Hamm was... yeah. He seemed pretty...

Michael: He seemed very relaxed.

AP: He insisted on spending more scenes in that costume.

]

Michael: That was never in the script.

David: No, he just turned up on set.

Michael: That's how he showed up.

David: I had an idea, guys!

Michael: Yes. No, there's lots to look forward to.

AP bursts out laughing: Sorry.

Michael: And lots to look back on.

AP: This second series, having a little bit more wiggle room in terms of where you might be able to take the characters, I think it's fair enough to say. Do you feel more active input.

[again, cut out in the video but present in the podcast version

AP: Into where they might go? Because to me, they strike as having a very strong Woody and Buzz factor of...

David: Right.

AP: Bear with me here. You're both not very good at your jobs.

David: How dare you?

AP: It's true. One's no angel. One's far from evil.

David: That's true.

AP: And you kind of are fudging it constantly.

]

AP: Do you feel you have more room to kind of fudge here and fudge there and really muck about with the characters now?

Michael: I mean, I every day when we start, I like to first of all say, Neil, I've got no interest in hearing what you're going to say. This is what I think should happen.

David: Yeah.

Michael: I mean, the thing is, when you've got Neil Gaiman writing it-

David: Yeah.

Michael: -you should have just go, off you go, mate.

David: The last thing you want to do is start putting in your ideas. You don't want to limit anything that's going to come out.

Michael: It's like brain. It's like when Ringo says, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

AP: Yesterday, I have notes.

Michael: Listen, listen to what I've come up with.

AP: There's too much guitar in this.

David: Yeah.

AP: More drums.

David: Yeah.

Michael: Yeah. I think one of the things about Neil that is so wonderful is that he is so open and generous with ideas,

David: Yes.

Michael: and he's so not precious about what he's written. He is very respectful of what he and Terry created and is probably a bigger fan than any other fan, but he's not precious about it and he's very open to collaboration. In fact, he's probably the most collaborative

David: Yes.

Michael: I'd ever come across in my life.

David: Yes, absolutely.

Michael: So he loves watching what other people bring to the table, not just actors, but, you know, designers, everyone. And then I think he takes from that and is influenced by that. So it's very collaborative in that sense.

David: Yes. But if we influenced where the characters went in season two, it was sort of circumstantially.

AP: Right.

Michael: Yeah.

David: It was sort of by the act of what happened during season one and getting to know Neil and getting to know each other. But the great joy for us is turning up to these wonderful scripts and going, oh, I get to take this character here now. What a lark.

[again, cut out in the video but present in the podcast version

Michael: I mean, I wrote some very stern emails to him.

David: Yeah.

Michael: Which I was glad to see that he totally ignored.

AP: Screen time for me.

Michael: Yes, exactly.

AP: I like to think the 'I was right, or rather, you were right and I was wrong' dance was organic in the moment, not in the script. And could you give us a quick how might I recreate that beautiful...

David: Absolutely not. No. I worked with the choreographer for some days.

Michael: It's true.

David: Yeah.

Michael: It's true. And am I right in saying that... I wonder if this exists? But when we were filming it, didn't I, on the last take, I made you do it once with you thinking that you were doing it for real, but actually it wasn't for real. It was just so I could do.

David: It was so you could have-

Michael: So I could Strictly Come Dancing [british dance contest]-

David: Exactly that. Does it exist? I think it does exist.

Michael: It must have actually built... I had cards made with scores on them and David, God bless him, came in and did the whole thing again, thinking that he was doing it for the filming. And in fact, it was literally just so at the end I could go, 'SEVEEEEEEN'! [It was filmed, hehe, see here :)]

David: Yeah. But I don't want Amazon to think we're wasting your production...

AP: Money and time. No.

David: And it will show up on a blooper reel somewhere.

Michael: There was no film. There was no film.

AP: It was definitely not a waste of time. No, absolutely not.

]

AP: What would you say the fans have responded most to from the first series when you meet them at comic cons or on social media or what have you? Are there moments from the first series where they love talking about that scene?

Michael: Well, I think people really enjoy the going through history stuff, don't they? I mean, we thoroughly.

David: We certainly do. There's just something about the characters and their relationship, though, that seems to have just caught fire. I mean the amount of...

AP :I won’t read some ot the stories I’ve glanced upon.

David: Right.

AP: Yes. Fanfiction is quite….

David: Oh, I see. Oh that is not for us to read.

Michael: Oh I read it all.

AP: Oh you should. You write most of it, right?

Michael: I write most of it.

David: But it's lovely to see. And I have seen more than I can count. Aziraphale and Crowleys showing up. People dressed and always in twos, always in pairs.

Michael: Yes.

David: You know, and that's lovely. And that seems to absolutely encapsulate what the whole show is about, I think.

AP: Tattoos, fan art.

David: Definitely, yes. Seen a couple of tattoos.

Michael: Yeah.

AP: Yeah. Do you get fans in the street quoting lines or just pointing and staring? Because you two together can't really walk down the street.

David: Michael doesn't walk anywhere.

Michael: Those days are long gone.

AP: Jackpack.

David: Yeah.

Micheal: Yeah.

AP: Yeah, that's fair.

Michael: Well, I get a lot of ‘To the world’.

David: Oh, yes. Nice.

Michael: People like to… yeah.

David: Yeah.

Michael: And 'You go too fast, Crowley.’

David: Ooh.

Michael: There’s a lot of that. That gets jumped around.

AP: What about... and this is a kind of BAFTA winning question, so just send it my way.

David: Wow.

AP: Would you say these characters are in your top three most fun characters you've ever played? Because they strike me as being... I'd probably play these characters forever if I could.

Michael and David: Yeah.

Michael: This is like on what's that show when people have to say whether they want to date each other again? You go first. Top three?

David: I mean...

AP: Number two...one?

David: It'd be a weird scenario to say it wasn't.

AP: Yeah, I agree.

David: In this situation.

AP: Yeah.

David: To start something: well, I mean, it's sort in the little twenties. But... No, we did have an irresponsible amount of fun.

Michael: Yes. Not really like working.

AP: No.

Michael: I mean, I very much hope that we eventually get to, in one way or another, in one form or another,

David: Yeah.

Michael: get to play them just very, very old. And it may well be... I mean, we joke about doing a theatrical tour.

AP: And swapping.

David: I'm not joking. I'm not joking about that.

Michael: No.

David: It's a lovely little retirement plan.

Michael: I know.

AP: I'm dead keen on Good Omens 666. I think...

Michael: Oh!

AP: It's just there.

Michael: Yes.

David: Yeah, yeah, yeah.

AP: Think about it. Post apocalyptic...

Michael: Part, like Good Omens 1, 2, 3, all the way up to 666. I mean, that's a long running series. That's longer than Frasier.

AP: Big words. If a bad joke's worth telling. 666.

Michael: Telling over and over again.

AP: Over and over and over.

David: Yeah.

AP: Guys, I'm going to ask you one last favour as I wrap things up, which is I have at the front of this book, one Mr. Neil Gaiman.

[shows a copy of Good Omens signed by Neil Gaiman].

AP: He signed it and he said as he often does: Ali, have a good doomsday. Would you care to deface?

Michael: I heard the other day that someone went to interview George Harrison and the person who interviewed him said, would you mind signing this record? Whatever it know, the white album, whatever. And he went, do you want them all? And they used to all write each other's name, all sign each other's names.

David: Wow.

Michael: Because they had to do it so much.

David: Do you want to do mine?

Michael: Just get Neil to do that.

AP: Could you please sign as your man? I'll be very lucky.

Michael: On a different page.

AP: You pick your own page, deface as you will.

Michael: Yeah. Look at that. I do a little halo.

David: Oh, that's given me an idea.

Michael: Oh look at that, yeah.

AP: And then while I'm here, I'm going to do the super unprofessional thing of asking for a photograph, if that's allowed.

David: Yeah.

Michael: Oh, look at that.

David: That's perfect.

Michael: That's nice, isn't it?

AP: Beautiful. Would you mind helping me out?

David: Do you see what we've done there, Ali?

AP: Oh, thank you!

Michael: And yours is D for...

AP: I'm going to kneel behind you.

David: Sure.

Michael: I thought I should turn my M into wings.

David: Oooh.

Michael: This is, this is...

AP: Guys, as you may have worked out, big fan.

David: Cheers, Ali.

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autumnrory · 9 months ago

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but also i keep thinking about it and it's like okay i'll spend that much money on a clothing order and at least these like. i'll have them forever and it's not like it's ANY book series ya know it is one of my favorites that i can and have reread multiple times like. i am very conflicted bc it IS a lot a lot a lot for three books but i feel like it could be worth it for me?

goddddd the aftg set i can't fathom spending more than like $25 on a single book and usually that's huge hardbacks and this would be $40 a book but the cover art! the edged pages! and i see the site has books on their own but idk if that will ever be an option here or if it's only gonna be this way like shelling out that kind of money feels insane but. ugh.

#and also hardback is so nice bc i read while i exercise and sure have done some damage on my paperbacks with my sweaty hands lol #hardbacks are harder to exercise with but it's okay if it's not a huge book #man i just want them

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bookshelf-dust · 2 years ago

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the hurt is good

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi

billy hargrove x fem!reader

word count: 2,344

warnings: swearing, smoking, reader is lonely, descriptions of billy’s abuse, mentions of neil

a/n: hi! so i decided to challenge myself with this. i’m making this a multi-part story. i’ve never done anything like this before, but so far i’m enjoying it. i’m not entirely sure where we’re headed, but i’ve got a sort of outline in my head. i’ve also decided to try something else new, and i’ve picked out some songs that you can listen to before you read to get you in the mood—but only if you want of course. this is all a really new experience for me but i have put a lot of heart into this first part. i hope that you enjoy this, really i do. also the title is from a part of hop’s letter to el. <333

before you read, listen to: wheel in the sky by journey and/or (don’t fear) the reaper by blue oyster cult

————

Sitting cross-legged on your bed, you turn the page of the book in front of you, the sound of the paper flipping an audible one.

You lift the hardback, tuck your nose into the center of the pages and give it a sniff. It might be odd to do so, yes, but to you, books are the best smelling thing in the world.

You put it back down, go back to reading.

A knock breaks you out of your fantasy literature-induced stupor.

“Honey? Okay for me to come in?” Your mother’s voice, soft and sweet.

“Sure.” Your voice is quiet when you speak, though just loud enough for her to hear.

Your bedroom door opens enough for your mother to stand just inside, her back against the frame, one hand gently resting on the knob.

You reach for your bookmark, drape it over one side of the pages and then close it.

“Hey, kiddo.” Her smile is easy. You try your best to give her one of your own, but you know it falls short.

“Wendy and I are going out to dinner tonight and then to an art show.”

Wendy was your mother’s longtime best friend, and quite the riot.

“Apparently her new girlfriend is something of an artist.” She gives a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows. “Do you think you’d like to tag along?”

You uncross your legs and stretch them out: contemplating. Then you do the same to your back, which makes an obscene crackling noise—enough to make the both of you grimace.

You know how you’ll feel if you go out with your mother and her friend.

You’ll be okay for the first little while, but then there will be too many people. You’ll get nervous. You will probably say something wrong and feel the need to shut down. You will shut down. Your hands will get shaky and you’ll get upset, and by the end of the night you’ll wish you hadn’t gone at all.

You know how you’ll feel if you stay home, too.

You’ll be fine, totally fine, having avoided everything you’d face in the other situation. But you’d be guilty. Guilty because you’re young and you won’t be going out to do whatever or making friends. You’ll feel like you’re failing your mom, who just wants you to experience things.

You decide that leaving your house shouldn’t require this much stress.

“No, I don’t think so,” you finally say. “But thank you for offering.”

You watch your mother as she moves further inside your room, settling on the edge of your bed.

“Are you sure?” She sets her hands on your knees, tapping her fingers, many a ring glinting in the overhead light of your room.

“We could get frozen yogurt. You know, I really think you’ve turned Wendy into a monster after we went last time. It’s all she talks about now.”

That gets a small smile out of you, but brings an ache to your chest.

“I’m sure. Don’t get too crazy, tonight, though. And be sure to let me know about her new partner.”

“Alright. Hug or no? What’s the affectionate meter at right now?”

“A hug is fine,” you say through a quiet laugh.

She wraps her arms carefully around your shoulders, allowing you to squeeze first, that way she can gauge what you need.

“I’ll leave some money out so you can order pizza, okay?” You nod. “Also there’s a pint of the ice cream you like in the freezer.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“Anything for you, my little honeybee.” With a final pat of your knee and a wink sent in the direction of your book, your mother sweeps out of the room, and a little while later she is out the door.

Alone in the house, you let out an exhale, before heading to the kitchen.

Opening the designated take-out-menu-drawer, you scrounge for the one belonging to a local pizza place. You go ahead and order now, knowing that it might take awhile since the place is in downtown Hawkins.

You realize, setting the phone down, that you don’t know what to do with yourself once you’ve got the chance to do whatever you please.

You retrieve your book to read on the couch until your dinner arrives, not only for a change of scenery, but because you’ll need to be out in the living room to watch an episode of your favorite show in a while anyhow.

You’ve only sat momentarily when you hear it. Hear him. When you hear his music, specifically.

Billy Hargrove lives a few doors down from you, just close enough that you can always hear when he comes home, music blaring—not that differently from the volume you play it at when alone in your car—and doors slamming.

You don’t know him personally, only from school. Only as this pretty boy who’s been in Hawkins a few months.

You know enough that you hate the way people at school look at him. Like he’s an object. Like he’s this foreign being just because he came all the way from sunny California. The way they talk about him. About his ass, or his car, or his little redhead sister.

You know he’s pretty. You’d never deny that. But he’s just like the rest of you, and it bothers you that people treat him—at least from what you’ve seen—like this all-powerful dude.

But you also know enough that you think maybe he doesn’t have the best home life, just from what you’ve seen when you’re not out—which is always.

Sometimes you see him walking up and down the street at various times during the day. Or you hear his car speed off.

Sometimes, though really only sometimes, you see him trailing his sister while she skateboards, either talking or sitting while she goes.

To you, he seems like a loner.

And maybe it’s because you’re one too that you see him that way. That you can see him that way.

————

Outside, Billy cups his hand around his cigarette. It’s seemingly out of habit, since it’s not windy out. His thumb slides along the spark wheel of his lighter once, twice before the flame catches. The tip glows red in the night.

He walks a little further, as he inhales deeply, closing his eyes and soaking it in. He kicks a rock, hard, trying to see if it’ll hit the post of the mailbox a few feet ahead of him.

He watches a pizza delivery car ride by and pull into a driveway. He hasn’t made it very far on his walk. The walk he wouldn’t be taking because it’s pretty damn cold outside.

But Neil Hargrove wasn’t aware that Max Mayfield had joined the Hawkins AV Club, and when there was no Max at home, he took it out on Billy, telling him he was an irresponsible waste of space.

It took Susan getting home with her daughter and explaining the situation for Neil to calm down.

But Billy’s back was aching from where he’d been slammed up against a doorframe, and frankly he wanted nothing more than to get out of the house.

So here he was.

A porch light flicked on as if whoever was inside had been waiting on that pizza. You had been—sitting on the couch and listening for car sounds.

When the delivery guy rings the doorbell you appear, and Billy realizes he knows you. That he goes to school with you. You’re very quiet. He also thinks your very pretty, and he’s never noticed that before.

You look very comfortable; all of your clothes seem to be too big. With the way the yellow outside light hits you, it gives your face a multitude of shadows. Billy thinks about some of the greek statues he learned about in a history class back when he lived in California. About how artists tended to sculpt women with real bodies.

Shit, he thinks. He’s probably staring at you. But you really are very pretty.

On the stoop, you take the pizza and set it on the table just inside the door and then hand the guy his money.

You decide not to be a dick and make sure that he gets out okay. When he backs out, you catch a flash of red out of the corner of your eye.

You wouldn’t be able to see him if it weren’t for the street lights. Billy is looking at you. You smile at him, and to your surprise, he smiles back.

“You okay?” You ask, hoping that your voice carries to him, because you don’t feel like shouting.

You watch him shrug and take another drag of his cigarette. The fingers on his free hand fidget with the ring he’s wearing, and you pretend not to notice.

“You?” He questions in return. Something about the sound of his voice makes you feel warm inside.

You shrug back, and he lets out a breath of a laugh, before you turn around to go inside and he continues with his walk.

You kick the door shut and lock it behind you, thinking about Billy.

That is the most extensive conversation you’ve ever had with him, aside from one a few days after he started at Hawkins High, when he didn’t know where the auditorium was, so you walked him the whole way there. You were pretty sure he’d been embarrassed to have to ask for help, but you hadn’t been bothered at all.

In fact, that exchange outside was the most conversation you’d had with anyone outside of your mother in a while.

Most days you didn’t say a word at school, keeping to yourself, trying to get homework done any chance you could so that it didn’t actually become homework. Sometimes you had to speak with a teacher though, and of course you said thank you when someone held a door—but that was it.

Quite frankly you didn’t know what to think. Part of you hoped you’d see him again. That you’d make a friend.

You hadn’t had a friend in a very long time.

————

When your mother returns home, it is with many beans to spill.

Wendy’s new partner, who you found out was named Stephanie, was, in your mother’s words, “Hot enough to go gay for.”

Your mother had also undoubtedly had some to drink while out and about.

“Also that boy from down the street? Don’t you go to school with him?”

You start fussing with a string on your sleeve. “Yeah, why?”

“Well he was brooding on his porch when Wendy retrieved me, and he’s still wandering around outside. It’s been,” she checked her watch, “three hours.”

You scratch at your nose, thinking.

“I saw him when the pizza got here.”

Your mother hums. “Well, I’m going to go shower the art gallery off of me and then probably stay up too late reading.”

“Okay.”

She smiles sweetly at you, collecting the pile of rings and other jewelry that she’d taken off and set on the counter while talking to you, and then you’re alone again.

You flatten your body over the countertop, bending at the waist and stretching so that your fingers can grip the other side.

You think about Billy out there. He was obviously going through something. And maybe it isn’t any of your business, but you hate the idea of him being alone, wallowing in self-pity. Not that you have any room to talk.

You straighten, walking carefully so as to not allow your socked feet to slip along the floor, and find yourself reaching for your coat.

Shoving your feet into a pair of shoes, you flip on the porch light once again, and make your way outside.

Across the street, Billy is resting against a low wall that has a mailbox set into it.

Looking both ways out of habit, you make your way towards him, stopping a few feet away. He looks up at you, both hands on the brick underneath him. There is a half-finished cigarette in one of his hands. You find yourself wondering how much he’d smoked since he’d been out here.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” He quirks a brow at you.

“You’ve been out here a long time, you know that?”

Billy glances at his watch. “Seems so.”

“Not cold?”

“‘M fucking freezing my ass off out here.”

You try and choose your words carefully, not wanting to push too hard. “Seems like you could solve that problem if you went inside.”

“Are you worried about me or something, Y/N?”

Trying not to think about the way your name sounded leaving his mouth, you admit to your crimes.

“Yeah, actually. You were out here earlier, and my mom said she saw you when she left and when she got home. I didn’t like the idea of you being alone.”

Something in Billy’s face softens. “Yeah?”

You exhale, your breath leaving a plume of air in front of you.

“Yeah.”

“Well then I guess I better get my ass inside, huh?”

You stuff your hands into your pockets and realize what you’ve got in there.

“Here.” You pull out a little hand warmer packet an hold it out to him.

Billy laughs. It’s a beautiful sound, you think. Charming and hearty. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

————

At school Monday, you make your way to the lunch table you’ve claimed, grass squishing under your feet.

You flip open your book, shove one leg under you.

It’s only been a little while of munching on grapes and forcing yourself to concentrate before you feel a weight drop onto the bench across from you, shifting the old table a little.

You look up. Billy Hargrove looks back.

He throws his bag on the worn wood, slaps a book of his own on top of that.

You’re confused at his appearance, and he seems to sense that.

“I didn’t like the idea of you being alone.”

You feel yourself heat up, and sit on one of your hands because you also feel like you could cry.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x fem!reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove comfort #billy stranger things #stranger things fic #billy stranger things fic #billy hargrove x f!reader #savannah’s fics

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certaincollectionlandblog · 10 months ago

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Domestic life with the book guys featuring the Twisted series by Ana Huang

*In honor of the fact that I have been so stressed my period came a whole two weeks early (live, laugh, love) please enjoy the absolute outpour of content this following week :)

Alex Volkov (Twisted Love by Ana Huang)

If we are going strictly off of Alex's character in Twisted Love it can be safe to assume that he is not going to be warm and mushy. This does not mean that there won't be any larger than life proclamations of love (I mean this man dropped 40k easy on a painting just because his girl wanted it), but he isn't going to be doing anything over the top in public

Following the previous point if you are expecting PDA I hate to tell you the most you'll be getting is maybe some light hand holding and a very quick hug

If there is a book man who is the definition of introverted I so see Alex fitting that description

He may not tell you he loves you verbally, but there are other ways he shows you. He might keep your favorite snacks in stock at the house so you never run out. He is going to have all of your favorite games and movies at the house so if you ever want to stay in you're able to.

Now if we're going off of Alex's character development throughout the Twisted Series and further on we can tell Alex is slowly coming out of his shell. He is still severely introverted, but he clearly is getting better at mild PDA.

Alex is as Taylor Swift would say Midnight Rain and he honestly just needs someone who will either be an absolute ray of sunshine or loves to dance in that rain (metaphorically speaking of course he would never actually want to dance in the rain for fear of getting you sick)

As we can clearly tell that man is constantly dropping a pretty penny on whatever you want. Looked a little too long at the purse in the window and boom it's wrapped up on the table when you get home. Mention wanting to read a book ONCE and he has it delivered in hardback (it's also autographed duh)

As far as like living together domestic life this man is spotless. He doesn't leave dirty dishes, dirty clothes, literally anything behind. He keeps control of his life in the form of keeping everything clean, orderly, and planned out.

This clearly follows into the bedroom because this man is never ever going to give over control. "Oh he might be a switch" No. Nope. Never. Don't see it happening sorry.

Alex is clearly not a very words of affirmation person, but quality time seems important to him. He will never admit it, but he is a cuddler like big time. Short of it being a quickie this man is not having sex with you and not getting his cuddles afterwards. Would he rather die than admit this to anyone ever? 1000x yes However as clean as this man is he is not laying in dirty sheets.

He wasn't given a proper upbringing and spending time with you doing mundane tasks around the house heals part of his inner child. You need to go to the grocery store? He's right there pushing the buggy. You need to wash dishes? He is ready to dry and put them up.

Rhys Larsen (Twisted Games by Ana Huang)

This man is about as protective and possessive as they come do we need to revise the chapter on him threatening to burn down parliament? *enter swooning here*

He is a sucker for safety because if anything happened to you that he could have prevented everyone better be praying

PDA is all based on timing. Rhys can read a room and he knows when he gets to let them know you're his and when it's not appropriate

Rhys is former military and he has gone through a lot. This man is a shell of who he used to be and the book clearly showed us that, however Rhys is the perfect example of how if you are broken once before that you won't remain broken forever. He struggles with PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder), technically it's known as C-PTSD (Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder). He is so used to giving up control to follow orders that sometimes he just needs to be reminded he's human and that regardless of the outcome everything will be okay.

He loves going on vacations where you can just get away from the world for a while and turning off the buzz of everything going on

As a way to cope with his C-PTSD Rhys uses drawing to relax. You'll often find little scraps of paper around the house with his sketches on them.

It's hard for Rhys to open up, but when he does you understand it was well worth the wait

Say what you want, but I firmly believe Rhys is a switch. This man could truly go either way and I think it depends on the situation. He doesn't have very many "no's" but if anything could seriously hurt you he is not down for it. He is covered in enough scars left by others that he would never want to take a risk that could leave you with that same lifelong reminder.

This man is the kind to show up at 3am with a dog he found on his way home and how he's only allowed to stay for one night and you end up keeping the dog forever

His phone screensaver is literally a photo of you and the dog because let's be real he can't pick a favorite

This man is a slut for emotional intimacy

If you told him "Oh I got you this cause I remembered you liked them", "I heard this song and thought of you", or "I thought you might like this" he is going to be thinking about it for forever

Rhys is going to make it well known that you're his girl

Josh Chen (Twisted Hate by Ana Huang)

*I have to say Josh is my least favorite, but I will try to do him justice*

This man is a doctor (and a bit of an ass tbh) so he would not trust anyone else to take care of you, if you get sick it's Dr. Chen to the rescue

He loves bringing you random food at work, but he also has a really tight schedule being a doctor and all so if he can't deliver it in person he will have it waiting on you when you get home

Let's be real Josh's personal life is a little bit of a mess and I wouldn't expect anything different from him on how he would keep a house. There would be rumpled clothes all over and the bed might never get made. He would pick up his trash, but if the dishes didn't make it in the dishwasher they were simply waiting till next time to get done.

Now Josh is nothing short of a playboy for the most part so the idea of him settling down will definitely be an adjustment.

Due to Josh being a doctor and still working to pay off his student loans he can't really afford fancy vacations or expensive gifts. Josh really loves just eating cheap takeout with you and watching movies

We all know Josh isn't the best with his words and is really hot headed, this often leads to Josh more so apologizing and a rather decent amount of makeup sex

Josh is the definition of all out rough, break your back like a glow stick sex. He's going to degrade you and yet have you coming back for more every single time. He's cocky and quiet honestly he has a few good reasons to be

He is more likely to fuck now and ask questions later it's just the Josh Chen way

Emotionally intimacy? Josh doesn't know her (maybe a little) but this man is more likely to have you open up to him before he ever opens up to you. He's been betrayed by some people who were incredibly close to him before and he will be damned if he makes that mistake ever again

Christian Harper (Twisted Lies by Ana Huang)

Rhys and Christian are big buddies so it makes sense that they are going to be extremely similar, but different in their own little ways

Christian has little use for moral code and much less what society deems as correct, but if you deem it correct than he is going to break his back bending over backwards to make that happen for you

Christian is the grumpy cat of the group. Sassy, grumpy and yet just the perfect combo of attractive to have that attitude forgotten (almost)

He runs his own security company and if you think he goes overboard for his clients you have no idea how overboard he will go for your safety

He is the definition of a German Shepard boyfriend; looks scary, fiercely protective, and is willing to chase down the mail man if he threatens you

Christian is a make his own rules type of man. If you're uncomfortable or upset he doesn't give a single crap he is going to do what makes you happy

You know this man makes note of everything single thing you like; your favorite drinks, your favorite movies, which friends annoy you the most and why (Christian is an honorary girlie he loves all the tea)

This man is petty to the T

If something small annoys him he is going to remember it until the day he dies

Opening up is hard for Christian and I think it would take a lot to get the point where he is open to freely sharing information with you

He is more likely to tell you about something that bothers him on a small day to day basis than telling you the big stuff from his past

Christian knows that he is the physical embodiment of big dick energy and does not disappoint

I really don't ever see Christian not being dominant, but hey I could be persuaded to think otherwise given the situation. I just don't personally see it

This is a man gives off the vibes of being downright obsessed. If you made cookies that tasted like straight up saw dust he would eat them all to see you smile before you would be able to pry the truth about how bad they were out of him

#ana huang #alex volkov #rhys larsen #josh chen #christian harper #twisted series #twisted love #twisted games #twisted hate #twisted lies #romance #books #book tumblr #morally gray #morally grey men

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ashmouthbooks · 6 months ago

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Læg nu smukt din hånd i min by katekane

A6 quarto hardback with homemade bookcloth - first time making it myself! and the title stamped on the front cover with fabric paint. I have never watched a single Far til fire film (not even the modern remakes) but when I stumbled across this on ao3 I couldn’t pass it by. this fic touches on Danish queer history with such heart and warmth and wonderful characters (I should probably watch the films) that it became an instant favourite.

for ikke at tale om at når man har tilbragt tyve plus år i fandom på engelsk og med engelske canons så er det at læse fic på dansk, der har udgangspunkt i dansk kultur og historie, som regn for sjælens ødemarker.

craft talk under the cut.

this is my first time making bookcloth so I want about it the cheapest possible way - fabric square from Søstrene Grene’s craft section backed with tissue paper which was a) the only paper I had that was big enough for the fabric square and b) salvaged from a past gifty delivery. it went ok but after drying some of the tissue separated from the fabric. hashtag yolo etc. I decided to use it anyway, and I think the moisture in the PVA was just enough to reactivate the paste on the paper backing, because the finished case came out beautifully smooth - and soft. I opted not to infill the cloth so it’s open weave cotton and feels as soft as a pillow to the touch.

the endpapers are also from Søstrene Grene, decorative paper 120gsm. The textblock is printed on 90gsm Munken Lynx Smooth Natural White, I wanted a whiter paper than usual as the chapter end notes have colour photos that I wanted to preserve. headbands are sewn on, the core is leather cord and the thread is embroidery thread.

the title is stamped on using rubber stamps from, you guessed it - Søstrene Grene. (they actually have letter stamps with the Scandinavian alphabet characters but the London store only has that particular set in all caps and the lower case set only had the English alphabet. luckily an æ is easily improvised and I have both a steady hand and a fine tip paintbrush for the circle over the å.) the paint is shimmery metallic fabric paint from Lumiere.

#fanbinding #bookbinding #my bindings #far til fire #katekane #læg nu smukt din hånd i min #dansk

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someonelookingpraediti · 5 months ago

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Bookshelf Tours All for the Game

I had to rearrange my shelves recently - my CD collection was lined up on top of my laundry bin, but it just got too big, and needed a full shelf. It was the perfect opportunity to make an "All for the Game" shelf, and finally have them all lined up together!

1. This is the Italian version, and it's a gorgeous hardback omnibus edition! It's the only hardback edition I've found (so far - I can't wait for the Rainbow Crate editions!) and it's also the only omnibus edition I've seen.

2. These are the French editions. The covers are really cool, and the titles translate to "Well Hidden Secrets", "Never Give Up", and "A Reason to Live". Honestly, I love that. Such cool titles!

3. The "Pipe Dream" fanzine by @llstarcasterll is so, so cool! It's full of the most gorgeous artwork, so is totally worth buying if you can get your hands on it. If I was flush with cash, I'd buy like, six of them, so I could pull them apart and put the pictures on my wall, in my diary, in my scrapbook.

4. The Spanish covers use the same artwork as the French ones, so I probably didn't need both, but I'm obsessive. These ones have the advantage of having really awesome chapter heading art.

5. These are the Russian editions. The artwork is, I believe, by @kiiakostet. This is some of my absolute favourite AFTG artwork, and I wish they were available as dustjackets for the English editions.

6. And speaking of dustjackets: These replacement jackets are by @llstarcasterll. They're beautiful, and I love how the spines look! I'm really looking forward to getting the "Raven Cycle" and "The Sunshine Court" jackets by the same artist. No idea where they'll go, though, the shelf is full!

7. And these are the @ouijacine jackets! I also have the prints of the artwork framed on my "All for the Game" art wall, so with this book facing outwards, it just looks like I'm super obsessed with this particular artwork. Oh wait. I am.

8. The originals. The ugly, terribly designed English language originals. I love them so much. These copies are messy and well-thumbed, and stuffed to bursting with colour co-ordinated page tabs. They are more annotation than book, at this point.

9. Ok. Technically, this isn't AFTG. But these copies of "The Raven Cycle" get a space on the shelf because the jackets are also designed by @ouijacine. Also, it makes the book stack sit at the exact perfect height.

10a. Special mention for the shelves above and below. The shelf above is my "Leigh Bardugo" collection, including some collector's editions, those gorgeous Illumicrate editions of the Nikolai duology, several beautiful copies of the Alex Stern books, and "The Familiar", which I still haven't read.

10b. The shelf below is the reason for the rearrange. I needed a long shelf, and a ridiculously tall one. These are my BTS albums. Yeah, I'm that person now. I actually still have a fair few to get, so there's a chance I'm going to overfill this shelf too. You can just see a couple of my boys peeping out over the top of the CDs, in flip photo form. I want to get one for each of the members, but weverse shipping is fucking extortionate.

At the moment, these all fit perfectly on this shelf, but with the many editions of the TSC duology I'm going to be buying, and the Rainbow Crate hardback editions? Yeah, I'm gonna need a bigger shelf.

#bookshelf tours #all for the game #aftg #the sunshine court #tsc #nora sakavic #leigh bardugo #bts

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mickandmusings · 5 months ago

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ii. crash my party

part two of the 'hangman & honey' series!

summary: when his original plans to bring honey to homecoming fall flat, jake thinks he's secured a fail-safe plan for honey to still have the night she deserves. when that too comes crumbling to pieces, jake, like always, is there to patch it back up. because jake is always the one to take care of her. they knew everything about each other...right?

word count: 5.6k

warnings: angsty -> fluffy, shitty homecoming dates, unbearable tension, i'm aware jake would only have a learner's permit but we don't follow the laws in small towns

It had started with one simple conversation.

"Jake, humor me," she'd started, finally closing her hardback book, looking up at him from across the table they'd been sharing in the school cafeteria. "A school dance? What part of that seems like a place I'd want to spend my Saturday?"

Jake smiled. "Hm, because I'll be there."

He gave her a shit-eating grin before shoveling fries into his mouth. Honey had rolled her eyes, forcing herself not to break into a grin as well. She stole a fry from his tray and swallowed before shaking her head and giving her retort.

"You're going to be there with Katie, and I highly doubt she'd want me hangin' around all night. She's like, majorly in love with you. I'm not going to be your third wheel, people already think I'm weird because I'm always taggin' along with you. I don't need to give them more fuel for the fire."

Ignoring the jab Honey gave herself, Jake tried to think of another approach. He hadn't wanted to go to this dance with Katie at all. He internally scolded himself-Katie was a sweet girl, pretty too, but as Honey had mentioned, Katie was in love with Jake. He just simply didn't feel the same. Suddenly, as if a light bulb had flickered above his head, Jake perked up.

"What if someone asks you to homecoming? Would you double date with me?"

Honey cut her eyes to his forest-green ones, looking away briefly before chewing on her bottom lip. She looked down at her hands, twisting the garnet ring adorning her right ring finger.

"That's sweet, Jake, but you and I both know that won't happen." She pauses, placing the ring back in position. "But, metaphorically speaking, if some random guy decided it wouldn't be social suicide to go with me, then, yeah, I'd double date."

Honey could feel the blush rising to her cheeks, she was positive Jake was the only guy in the entire school that had ever talked to her, much less look at her in any romantic nature.

Her confirmation was all Jake had needed, and he was already on a mission that he was sure he'd succeed in. As the lunch bell rang and he parted ways with Honey, he put his plan into action. Sitting in his fifth period Biology class, he turned to the seat behind him, a good-natured smile on his face. Hayden Wright, Jake's football teammate and friend, stared back at him. The teenage boy raised an eyebrow and gave Jake a look.

"What do you want, Seresin? You've got that stupid look on your face."

Jake scoffed, "First off, fuck you. Second, I've come to cash in my favor, Wright."

Jake had done Hayden a solid nearly a month ago, helping him in cleaning up his family's trashed barn from one of their post-game parties (to save him an ass-whooping from his father), and Hayden had agreed to owing Jake one, he'd just never thought Jake would actually ask him for one.

"What'd ya want?" Hayden's face had been neutral, figuring Jake wanted him to put in a good word with one of the cheerleaders, or to get Hayden's older brother to buy him alcohol.

"You know my friend, Honey?"

Hayden's eyebrow raised at Jake's word.

"The one that sits with you at lunch? I mean, yeah I know of her, why?"

"You're going to take her to homecoming." Jake said the statement plainly, so there would be no question.

Hayden audibly laughed. "Good one, Jake."

"I'm not joking, Wright," Jake's voice had taken a different tone. There was no more lighthearted humor to it, only a sense of seriousness. "I was already planning to take her, but Katie asked me before I could ask Honey myself. The only way she'll go is if she thinks she's not someone's tag-along. I'm not asking you to wine and dine her, asshole, I'm asking you to pick her up, give her a corsage, just-just fuckin' talk to her. Treat her like you would anyone else. She's not going to fall in love with you because you gave her an ounce of your precious attention. You owe me, man."

"Seresin, I already planned on asking Sam Van-"

"Be real, Wright," Jake's eyes were sharp, now daggers. "No shot in hell Sam Vance is going to say yes to you. Honestly, in my opinion, Honey is too good for you, way too good for you, but I'm desperate at this point. You'll ask her-in person-today, after practice. You'll ride with me and Katie, wear a nice suit and bring a corsage. She likes magnolias." Jake's statement left no room for leeway. It was set in stone, Hayden would ask her, be there with bells on, or else. Even as an underclassmen, Jake was easily on the taller side of his teammates, with the muscle to match-his daily farmwork had aided him in that department. Combined with his family's influence, you simply didn't want to be on his bad side.

Hayden sighs, his face drawn in a tight line.

"Fine, but consider my debt paid indefinitely, won't pull this shit again. If I'm going to have to take this girl, what the fuck am I supposed to talk to her about? I don't know the first thing about 'er."

Jake chuckles.

"Lucky for you, she's not much of a talker. Won't be to you, anyways. She likes to read, a lot. Ask her about literally any book. She's funny, just talk about whatever, she'll find a way to make you laugh. Just because she's not a cheerleader doesn't mean she isn't worth your time. Just for once in your life, just one night, don't be a dickhead."

Honey had been foolishly naive in thinking someone like Hayden Wright would actually be interested in someone like her. She'd felt the sinking feeling enter her chest the day he'd asked her to go to homecoming with him, starting small at first, but growing large enough to fill her anxiety-ridden torso. She'd felt the feeling lingering in her gut when she'd tried on and bought the flowing white dress that adorned her frame. She'd swallowed it down, buried it deep, told her internal insecurities that maybe, for once in her life, something good would happen to her. When that looming feeling had festered forward again that afternoon, as she meticulously curled her hair in Jake's bathroom, she had plastered on a smile and kept going, telling herself it was only a feeling.

But now, as she sat horribly mistaken on the steps of the Seresin farmhouse, she no longer stomached the feeling. Hayden was supposed to be here over an hour and half ago, and he had yet to show. Honey knew he wouldn’t, she’d expected it. She swallowed thickly and looked on as the sun made Katie look radiant in a way Honey knew she would never be-girls like Honey simply didn't shine like that. She let that aching feeling fester forward as she watched Katie laugh next to Jake in front of Janet's rosebushes, tears lining her lashes. The ridiculous eye makeup she'd spent an hour on had gone to waste, along with the heels she'd splurged on. She had almost unbuckled them and tossed them to the side when Janet's voice sounded.

"Honey, sweetheart, c'mon over, I want some pictures of you and Jake."

Honey had smiled and wiped her eyes, standing as tall as she could next to Jake in front of the Seresin's towering magnolia tree. She'd painted on her best smile, avoiding Jake's gaze that was staring holes into the side of her head. He hadn't said anything, and she didn't expect him to. Just because her night turned out to be miserable didn't mean his had to. He and Katie would go to the dance, and she'd stay with Seresin's, probably watch westerns with Jacob Sr. until he fell asleep in his recliner, then she'd take herself up to Jake's room and read until he came back. Maybe she'd just go home, despite hating being there because of the loneliness, so she wasn't a bother to anyone at all. The Seresin family was too kind to her, and she'd never want to overstay her welcome.

"Well, it's a quarter til', you young folk should be headin' along," Jacob Sr.'s voice sounded. Honey smiled as Katie hung off of Jake's arm, and Honey turned back towards the porch of the house, sitting back down on the stairs and started to unbuckle her shoes. Jacob Sr.'s eyes cut to her frame, and his eyebrows furrowed.

"Honey, what are you doin', girl? Not too sure on the dress code at this function, but I imagine shoes are required."

Jake's eyes looked at the figure of his best friend sitting on his grandparents' porch, and a feeling he had never felt seeped completely down to his bones. He hadn't even bothered to take her in completely since she'd gotten dressed, too focused on getting himself ready. Honey was dazzling as the sunset framed her figure. The color of her dress brought out her skin, and her hair had been styled lightly, but just enough to frame her face. He couldn't take his eyes off of her. But when he finally braved looking into her eyes, his heart ached. Sadness pooled behind her irises, water forming in her waterline. Her smile contradicted all of the feelings he knew were stirring inside of her, and every cell in his body wanted to shed his dress clothes, pile into his truck and hunt Hayden Wright down to beat the shit out of him.

"Oh, um," Honey started, as if she couldn't find the words to say. "My date isn't comin', I-I don't think I'll go. I'm just gonna go home." She smiled a smile that would appear unbothered by anyone else, but Jake knew that smile. It was entirely fake, an action to keep herself from bursting into tears. She was often so quiet and so good at saving face that it was hard to see her suffering, but Jake saw through her completely, he knew her 'strong' look. Jake jumps into action, without even thinking of how it may make the girl on his arm feel.

"Not a chance, Honey," Jake started, walking across the yard. "Just because Hayden is a jerk, doesn't mean you don't deserve to go. You look beautiful, can't let that go to waste. C'mon, you can hang out with us."

He sticks a hand out and looks down at her. She sighs heavily, taking it, and Jake feels his skin light up. His hairs stand on end, and after all these years, he notices every color in Honey's eyes. He notes the curves of her cheeks, the beauty of her entire figure. He finds himself feeling an overwhelming urge to press his lips into hers. How had he never seen her before? She had spent half of their lives by his side. She knew everything about him, from his favorite foods to the things that kept him up at night. Jake's eyes dart between her own as his heart races in his chest. Jake Seresin was in love with his best friend- head over heels, jumping into the deep end, full force in love. He stands stock still, her hand on his own, for a moment too long.

"Well, we're going to be late if we don't come on." Honey's voice is small, not quiet like usual, but small. She tears her hand away as she makes it down the stairs, giving Katie a curt smile as Katie's arm links around Jake's. He helps Katie into his passenger side, feeling a bit odd that Honey wouldn't be just to his right. Honey climbs into the backseat, her bottom lip tucked in-between her teeth, hands mindlessly rotating the rings on her hands. As Katie chatted animatedly in the truck, Honey only smiled politely, speaking when only necessary. She was utterly miserable, and Jake could see it. It was written across her face so plainly. For most of the night, that look never left her face.

Loud music, the sounds of their classmates yelling at one another to talk, and flashing lights filled the small high school gym, a basketball court full of underclassmen couples swaying to a song Honey didn't recognize. She was wishing she'd brought her current read with her, not that she'd be able to see it in the dark room. Instead, she sat in her metal folding chair at the table Jake and his friends had claimed, watching all the other girls' shoes and purses. As she looked out at the group, she couldn't quell the hurt in her heart that she'd tried swallowing down a million times that night. Katie threw her head back laughing at something Jake had said, though Jake didn't look nearly as amused as her. Her eyes focused on Katie alone-she danced barefoot in front of Jake, her turquoise colored dress shimmering under the lights. She wore a wide smile, one that lit up her whole face. Honey burned with envy. Of course that was the type of girl Jake went to dances with. Katie practically glowed-everyone loved her. The type of girl that guys would never stand up, the girl that guys stopped and stared when she walked by. And no matter how Honey yearned and prayed at night, begging to God to be that kind of girl-the girl that lights up a room, one that makes everyone's head turn-she would never be that. She'd always be bookish, timid, she shook with nerves when she had to give presentations in class, much less in a room full of her entire student body. Without much further thought, she suddenly realized it wasn't the fact she wanted to be loved by everyone, she just wanted to be the kind of girl Jake loved. Jake would never see her as anything more than a sort of quasi-sister, someone to give him advice on how to treat another type of girl right. Even without malice, Jake would hurt her too, and she knew it would leave her empty. Honey felt a tear slip down her face, she hadn't even realized she was crying. She wiped it away hastily, refusing to be the rejected girl that cried at a school dance. She might be a loser, but she wouldn't become a cliche. She found herself picking at the skin around her nails, biting her bottom lip, trying to distract herself from the oncoming round of tears pushing through her eyes.

Back on the dance floor, Jake let out a breath as Katie ran off to dance with some of her girlfriends. The girl was sweet, but he could hardly keep his mind focused on anything but the girl sitting at the table he'd left twenty minutes ago. He'd thought about just dropping Katie off and turning around to take Honey home, but his grandparents would've never let him hear the end of that. Instead he watched from the dance floor as Honey became more and more drawn in on herself. He clocked her fidgeting first-the once pristine white polish on her nails now chipped, her bottom lip red and peeling. Her shoulders were slumped and she hadn't smiled once since they'd arrived. He knew she was trying to let Hayden's rejection roll off her shoulders, he knew she would've already expected it, but when it actually happened, it left her devastated. Not that she cared much about Hayden, but her years worth of abandonment had flared. She was reeling in her own mind, and in a room like this, there were no distractions, no book to escape to, so she simply sat and drowned.

Jake plopped down in the chair next to her, his feet aching in his new dress shoes. The air was thick, and even knowing Honey so well, he wasn't sure how to comfort her. He simply went on instinct. His voice had a rough edge as he shouted over the music.

"You wanna dance?"

They'd danced before, a thousand different times. They'd dance to old country songs as kids, in the barn on the Seresin farm. They'd danced to the radio in his grandparents' kitchen, just friendly dances. It wouldn't be any different, right?

"No."

Jake's head whipped to her. She was never short with him, always layering her rejection softly. Jake didn't think too much about it, she was already feeling vulnerable.

"You sure, Hon? You love this song."

He wasn't wrong-she did love this song. It was a country ballad at least a decade old, but she'd loved it anyway.

"I'm fine, Jake. You should dance with Katie."

"Don't want to dance with her, want to dance with you."

Honey bit her lip to keep it from wobbling, shaking her head.

"You don't have to feel sorry for me. I already knew he wouldn't show, I expected it. It's not your fault, you have nothin' to make up for, okay? I'm not going to be the girl you give a slow dance to because she’s a loser who thought someone like Hayden Wright would actually want to go with her. I don’t need that kind of pity, Jake, especially not from you.” Her tone was fiery, but she hadn’t intended to come across as angry towards Jake, he hadn’t done anything, she was just growing tired of being completely visible and simultaneously invisible to him. “I'm sorry-I just, I don't feel much for dancing at the moment."

She swallowed and took a deep breath.

"Then let's get out of here."

Her head now whipped around to Jake.

"No, no. I'll just wait until you and Katie leave, o-or I'll call your Grandma, I'm sure she wouldn't mind coming to get me so you can keep having fun.” She looks out into the crowd and spots Katie moving through the large crowd of the football boys and cheerleader girls. “You're having fun, Jake, with your friends, and just because I'm miserable doesn't mean you have to be."

"I shouldn't have dragged you here, Honey. I convinced you to come, and you're miserable. I should've realized this isn't your scene, and I'm just making it worse. You shouldn't have to sit here and be miserable and watch as everyone else has a good time. That's like some sick form of torture."

Honey wanted to scream, to grab him by the shoulders and make him realize that she lived it every single day, she was always watching from the sidelines as everyone else lived. It wasn't any different now that she was in an uncomfortable dress in a cold metal chair.

Honey musters a smile and turns to face the boy who held her heart in his hands. Jake couldn’t pull his eyes away as the white satin dress adorned her freckled skin, falling perfectly on her curves. "Jake, look, Katie is out there and she's beautiful and she adores you, and she's been nothing but kind to me, even for being her date's weird third wheel. My night is already miserable, hers doesn't have to be. She deserves to have the night she dreamed of. I sort of already imagined my night to look this way, so, not that big of a disappointment, really."

She swallowed thickly, her vision blurring with the tears she couldn't keep pushing down. Jake blinked, crouching across to rest his elbows on his knees to turn himself closer to her. He caught her eyes, but she couldn’t meet his, afraid of the sympathy she’d find in them.

"Honey, how clueless do you think I am? You say that, that you already knew you’d be disappointed, but I watched you. I sat on the tub while you got ready, and I've seen that look before, the same look you get when somethin’ unexpected happens in your book, or a stupid meet-cute moment on a movie. You’re not some mutant, you may not care about the stupid social part of a school dance, but you were excited, Hon. I’m sorry he put out your fire, believe me I want nothin’ more than to take him behind the barn.” Honey now braves a glance at him, and finds herself staring at a pair of warm green eyes. No sympathy, no pity, just Jake. “You say you're fine with disappointment, but you're not Wonder Woman, darlin'. You're human, and no one can take that amount of sadness without breaking. You suffer in silence because you think no one cares about your happiness, but, Honey, I care. You deserve your own happy night. So please for the love of God, let me get you out of here, we'll do whatever you want. I can't sit and watch you suffer."

Honey shook her head.

"As wonderful as that sounds, Jake, I won't do that to another girl. It's not fair to Katie for you to just leave her here. It's already-"

"I don't think we'll have that to worry about." Jake points to the general direction of a crowd of people, where Katie is laughing as she hangs off the arm of another member of the football team. "I don't think Katie's 'obsessed' with me, I think it's more of anyone who wears the jersey."

Honey shook her head silently, looking up at Jake. His arm was stuck out for her to take, and she gave him a small but genuine smile. Her head rested on his bicep as they walked through the parking lot. As he opened her door and let her in, she almost let herself imagine that she was the girl he’d asked, that he’d decided the dance was lame, and they’d have more fun doing something else. She shut down those thoughts, knowing they’d only disappoint her later when he showed up with another pretty girl at his side. She let the thought float away as the high school faded in the rearview mirror, Jake’s country music filling the cab of the truck.

“What’d you wanna do, Hon? It’s kind of late, everything’s probably closed, but we could swing into Greenville, catch a fast food place.”

Honey shivered, Greenville was nearly twenty minutes out, and she was already itching to get out of this dress and into bed.

“Uh, don’t think I’m cuttin’ you short, J, I just, I really want to get out of this dress, and I want to shower. I-I think I just want to go to bed. I told you not to leave, your night is gonna be-“

Jake’s clouded mind filled with a particularly lewd thought as she spoke about getting out of her dress, one he shoved down quickly.

“My night’s gonna be just fine, because you’ll be in bed and not in that gym miserable.”

Honey simply smiled and continued to watch their small town pass by out her window. It wasn’t long until Jake parked in her driveway, her heart heavy. She stared at the dark house, the empty garage, and the feeling of emptiness she knew she’d find. She smiled half-heartedly as she turned to Jake. He smiled back as he cut the truck off and crawled out of his seat, opening her door and helping her out. He walked her up the steps and to her front door, they looked at each other in the darkness of night, illuminated only by the moonlight.

“Thanks, seriously, Jake, for everything. You’re the best friend I could ask for.”

Her heart cracked at the word ‘friend’, and so did his, not that either of them knew about each other’s feelings.

“No need to thank me, Honey. You can always crash my party.” He winked, looking up at the dark porch light. “Forget to leave the porch light on again?”

Honey shrugged, fetching her house keys from behind a plotted plant. She opened the door to turn the porch light on, and when she flicked the switch, nothing came on. Her eyebrows furrowed, trying the switch for the living room light, and nothing. She shakes her head, her shoulders slumping.

“That’s just rich,” she mumbles under her breath.

“What’s up? Light bulb blow?” Jake’s mind wandered aloud.

“No, uh,” Honey flushed red, feeling embarrassed. “My mother didn’t pay the light company, again. S-She forgets about this place sometimes. I’ll just call her tomorrow, it’s fine. I’ll see you Monday, Jake.”

Jake pauses, placing his palm on the front door she was trying to hastily shut. He takes in her slumped figure, his anger flaring at her neglectful mother.

“Hey, don’t shut me out. You say she forgot again? She’s done this before? Honey I’m not letting you sit down here in the dark, pack a bag, you can stay with us.”

As much as she wanted to protest, as much as her brain said she’d be an imposition at the Seresin’s, her heart was lonely and heavy, and she didn’t want to be alone tonight. She didn’t fight it, only grabbing the flashlight by the door and stomping up the stairs as Jake stood watch. She packed a duffel hastily, throwing in pajamas and casual clothes, and even a set for Monday at school. She never wanted to overstay her welcome, but she would stay as long as the Seresin’s would let her. She hated this house, she hated the empty rooms and she hated her mother. She stomped back down the stairs and locked the door back, sliding back into Jake’s truck and peeling down Seresin Farm Road.

Late that night, with wet hair and Jake’s Dallas Cowboys hoodie over her frame, she sat across from him atop his plaid comforter, snorting and heaving with laughter over Jake’s spot-on impressions of his football coach and teammates. He’s traded his formal wear for basketball shorts and an old rodeo t-shirt, appearing much more like the Jake she felt most comfortable with. For the first time that entire night, she’d felt light, filled with happiness. Hayden Wright never crossed her mind, nor the beautiful girls she held her standards to, not even her elusive mother who Honey felt hated her most. None of it mattered, because she was safe, comfortable, feeling perfectly content enough to curl under Jake’s sheets and fall asleep on his spare pillows. She slept soundly, not feeling Jake’s hands push hair out of her face, or his green eyes unable to look away from her sleeping frame until he too collapsed in sleep. Most importantly, she hadn’t heard Jake’s mumbles of how beautiful she’d looked tonight, things he’d only say when he knew she wasn’t listening. At least for now.

When Janet woke early the next morning, she relaxed seeing Jake’s truck parked in the drive. She stumbled up the stairs to find his bedroom door ajar, a pair of black high-top converse keeping it open. They were Honey’s-she wore them everywhere. Janet’s blue eyes peered into the room illuminated by morning sunshine.

Jake and Honey both slept soundly in Jake’s queen bed, facing one another, none of their limbs touching. To any other parent, this would lead to a sharp lashing and a loud wake-up, but Janet knew her grandson well. He held Honey in such high esteem he’d never try anything of a clandestine romance. Janet loved Honey, and, while never audibly saying it, she silently hoped her boy would open his eyes soon and see the diamond of a girl in front of him. She simply kicked Honey’s shoes out of the way, closing the door to leave them undisturbed.

When the pair woke, nothing had changed. Jake and Honey still sat at the breakfast table like any other weekend, Jake stealing bacon off of Honey’s plate, and Honey stealing strawberries off of his. There was no great fanfare of Honey all but moving into Jake’s room. Janet and Jacob Sr. had no objections when they found out the reasons why. They treated Honey as if she was another Seresin. The only thing that had changed is that Janet no longer had to pick her up for school. So when Honey and Jake walked into school together on Monday, no one seemed to bat an eye. When Hayden Wright walked into the courtyard Monday morning, however, it seemed every single eye was on him, or, more likely, the double black eyes he sported.

Jake had passed off his busted knuckles on some farm work, and Honey had believed him. When she noted that his closest football buddies, Brett and Willie, also had the same markings, she’d passed it off as a football tussle Jake hadn’t wanted to tell her about. Jake had smiled and kept the conversation topic away from Hayden at all costs, which struck Honey as weird, but she chalked it up to Jake’s protective nature. She only started to wonder when Willie turned to her in their shared third period and asked her about the book she’d been reading, or when Brett had caught her attention in the hallway.

“Honey!” The tall boy’s voice had boomed over the crowd of people in the hallway. “What’s up?!” He’d high-fived her as she simply responded with a quiet “nothing much” and headed towards her locker.

When the two boys joined her and Jake at lunch, she’d been nervous at first, as she always was around new people, but quickly fell into a more comfortable state as the weeks passed. Jake’s friends, his true friends it seemed, found her funny, doubling over in laughter at her witty retorts to Jake’s comments, and her jabs at particularly disliked teachers. She no longer cowered behind Jake as he spoke to his teammates, because Brett or Willie were always around, actively roping her into easy conversation. For the first time in her life, Honey had friends, well, besides Jake, but she'd always had Jake.

That Friday night, after the game, as Jake slung off his shoulder pads and tossed them into his designated cubby, Brett’s voice sounded over the bustle of the loud locker room.

“Yo, Jake, are you and Honey going to The Basket after this? I’m fucking starving, man, and she always lets me have her fries she doesn’t eat.”

Jake felt a weird sort of flutter erupt in his chest, knowing that he wasn’t the only person to see Honey’s personality, that she had made an impression on his closest friends too. It almost made him burn with jealousy, but then he’d realized that he quite literally slept next to Honey each night-platonically, of course.

“Uh, yeah, as long as she’s down,” came Jake’s reply as he slung his bag over his shoulder.

“Fuck yeah!” Willie’s voice came into the circle of conversation. “Tell your girl to come to the after party at Junior’s too! I just finished that book she let me borrow, and that party’s gonna be ass, so we’ll have plenty of time to talk about it.”

Jake’s blood ran cold, his girl? When had his friends decided that Honey was his girl? He didn’t correct the boy’s words, only nodding as he chuckled, thinking of Honey’s frame sitting on the bales of hay at Junior’s barn as Willie’s towering linebacker frame chatted animatedly about the copy of The Outsiders she’d lent him.

“Yeah, I’ll see if she wants to come. You might have to catch her later, though, she’s not really big on parties. She’s not one to be social or drink, so people give her shit about it.”

Brett’s scoff filled the air.

“She’s wearing your numbers, Seresin.” Brett referred to Jake’s old jersey Honey often wore to the game. “And me and Willie’ll be there, nobody’s gonna mess with ‘er.”

That night, Honey and Jake sat on one side of a sticky red booth at the local diner with Willie and Brett across from them, opting to spend their night over dinner instead of at a party the law would likely bust. Jake had hardly spoken to Honey at all since they’d arrived, she was deep in a conversation with Willie over greasers and poems about gold. It made Jake happy that she and his friends got along, but as Honey flashed Willie a smile she’d only given him, he felt his fists tighten at his side, the burning jealousy returning. As Brett chattered on and on, Jake tried to focus, but his eyes kept lingering on the other side of him, seeing Honey laugh or her eyes sparkle as she divulged in literary talk. His mood had turned sour, and she hadn’t even noticed. So when Willie and Brett parted for the night, and they’d made their way to Jake’s truck, she’d clocked his frown as he opened her door for her.

“You alright, J?” Her voice was sweet, laced with sympathy.

“M’fine, Hon,” came his reply as he shut the door, walking around to his side and sliding in before starting the truck. Silence filled the truck, and Honey found her happiness deflating. She must’ve done something to upset him, that must be why he was acting this way. She pulled her knees to her chest, feeling small. Jake caught the movement out of the corner of his eye.

“Nothing’s your fault. I swear.” His green eyes were more warm than before.

“Then why are you acting like this? I-I’m sorry if you thought I was ignoring you, I just got caught up in talking to Willie about the book that I didn’t think about it.”

“It’s not that, you haven’t done anything, I promise. Just, thinking about a lot up here.” His pointer finger tapped against his temple.

“You can always talk to me. You can tell me anything, Jake.”

He smiled at her and nodded, but he knew he couldn’t. He could tell her anything except that he was in love with her.

taglist:

@djs8891

#jake hangman seresin #hangman x reader #hangman imagine #top gun imagine #top gun maverick #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #request #tgm #tgm fanfiction

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thebibliosphere · 1 year ago

Note

I saw your post about ingram, and out of curiosity, is there some advantage to going through the whole self-publishing thing with retailers when you're just starting out? like I mean the way that fandom zines work is that they don't even bother going through ingram or amazon or whatever. they just set up a social media site (usually twitter) to gain followers, open preorders (usually 1-2 months in length) to generate the costs of printing upfront, and then sell anywhere from a few dozen to several hundred copies of their books (usually artbooks, but anthologies exist too). I've seen some zines generate over a thousand orders. they're kind of like pop-up shops, except for books. maybe the sales numbers aren't so impressive to a real author, but the profit generated is typically waaaay more than the $75+ apparently needed for Ingram Spark, so I still feel like new authors could benefit from this method too, especially if they just need some start-up cash to eventually move to ingram if they want to for subsequent runs of their book. I think authors would also have to set aside some of the pre-order money to buy an ISBN number to have printed on their book, and I'm not really sure what other differences there are, but I just wanted to ask about it in case there's some huge disadvantage I'm missing!

So, popup zines work well for some people, and I know some authors who kickstart their work successfully. But for a lot, it's just not feasible as a long-term stratedy. Or even as a means to get off the ground.

Fanzines succeed primarily because an existing fanbase is willing and ready to throw money at something they love. They’ve got a favorite writer or artist they want to support. Supporting all the others is just a happy by-product. They also take a HUGE amount of short-term but intense planning that just doesn’t always jive with how some of us work.

I, for one, would never offer to organize a fanzine. I’ll take part in them as a creator, but I’d rather throw myself off a cliff than subject myself to wrangling that many people and dealing with the legal logistics.

When it comes to authors doing anthologies, it'svery much the same. The success of the funding often hinges on having other big-name authors involved whose existing fans will prop up the project. Or having a huge marketing budget.

Most self-pub authors have zero marketing budget. I’m one of them, and I’m under no illusions that my work would not be as popular and self-sustaining as it is if I didn’t have a large Tumblr blog.

When I thank Tumblr in my forewards, I am utterly sincere. Tumblr brought fandom levels of enthusiasm to an unknown work and broke the Amazon algorithm so hard, that Amazon thought I was bot sniping my way to multiple #1 spots and froze my sales rankings.

That’s not the norm. And while I could probably kickstart my own work as an indie creator, that’s because I’ve put literal decades into building up a readership. I’ve been doing this since I was 16 and realized people thought I was funny. I didn’t know what to do with it or if I’d ever actually write anything, but it meant the groundwork was already there (thank you, past-me). I basically fell upward into my success by virtue of never being able to shut the fuck up and wanting to make people laugh. Clown instincts too strong.

New or first-time authors trying to sell their work without that will find it infinitely harder.

All of that aside, even if an unknown author somehow gets lucky and manages to fund their work, there’s still the question of shipping and distribution logistics. Are you shipping everything yourself? Better hope you’re able-bodied and have the time for it. (for reference, it took me months to ship out 300 patreon hardbacks because of my disabilites. It damaged my back and hands. I couldn’t type for several weeks after I was done.)

Are you going to sell primarily at conventions? Better hope you’re able-bodied, have the time and don’t have cripling anxiety about being in large groups...

Also, will selling a dozen to a few thousand copies in one burst be sustainable in the long run as a career? Not for me. Doing things via Ingram and Amazon means I earn a steady trickle of sales for the rest of my life provided the platforms remain and so long as I keep working and can generate interest in the series, not just when I have funds to pay for physical copies to sell. The one-time (in theory) cost of $75 to distribute through Ingram gets paid off pretty quick that way. And it doesn't require the same logistics as doing the popup/crowdfund.

Ultimately, it comes down to what you are capable of but also the type of work you’re doing. If you’ve got an extended network of fellow creatives who will back you or you’ve got a large following elsewhere, doing it like a popup might work for you.

If you’re an exhausted burnout who can’t fathom the short but intense amount of organization that sort of thing requires, not to mention doing it over and over and over... Ehhhhh. No thank you.

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poppy-in-the-woods · 7 months ago

Text

My Ride or Die - Part 2

Plot: Noah is your husband. Five years ago, he killed a man that was attacking you. The judge ruled that, since he shot him several times after he already had been stabbed by you, it was no longer self-defense. He got twenty years, and that was two and a half years ago. After the conjugal visit for his birthday, you visit him, bringing food and other presents to help him keep warm on cold nights.

Pairing: Noah x Female Reader

Word Count: 2601

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Tags: fluff, bit of angst, convict!Noah, masturbation, mentions of suggestive pictures.

Author’s note: betaed by the amazing @rottingfern. Sorry for the long wait, but you know, life gets in the way of writing sometimes, and I wanted to polish this one as much as I could. Let me know how I did, and hope you enjoy.

It had been exactly a week since you last saw Noah. You definitely needed a bit more recovery before thinking about having wild sex again, the ache between your legs still dully moaning, but you two were happy to see each other nonetheless.

The room was busy with spouses and kids that came to visit other inmates. Noah sat alone as he waited for you, but he quickly rose up when he saw you approaching. You greeted him with a quick hug and a peck on the lips and sat in front of him, putting the bag you were carrying on the bench beside you.

“How are you, my love?” you asked.

“Not bad. Better than most days now that you are here,” he said.

“I brought you some presents,” you said, taking the items out of the bag. “Here’s your sandwich,” you began, pushing it to him. He unwrapped it with an excited smile and began scarfing it down. “Slow down, honey, or it’s gonna hurt your stomach,” you told him.

“Sorry,” he said, chewing slower.

“I also brought you some extra underwear and socks,” you continued, putting the paper bag on the table.

“Nice!”

“The shampoo and deodorant you like…” you listed, taking them out of the bag too and placing them beside the underwear, “and a belated birthday present!” you announced, handing him the wrapped package.

“They let you bring that without opening it first?” he asked, skeptical.

“I told them it was a present, so they did me a favor” you told him, shrugging it off like it was nothing. You knew the schedule of the guard who had a soft spot for you and you fully took advantage of that, though you’d never tell that to Noah. “They ran it through the X-ray machine, with the rest of the stuff,” you assured him.

“No metal file or spoon hidden, then,” he joked.

“No, sorry,” you replied, chuckling as he finished unwrapping the book: it was a hardback copy of High Magick (A Guide to The Spiritual Practices That Saved My Life on Death Row), by Damien Echols. “Don’t take off the plastic just yet,” you whispered. He nodded. “I am sure you will find it a very interesting reading,” you added, in a normal tone.

“Thank you, baby,” he said, taking your hands and quickly kissing your knuckles.

You smiled at him and he smiled back at you, letting go of your hands before the guard could decide that it was too much physical contact and end the visit early.

“How’s it going with that newbie? Did he bother you again?” you asked, trying to make some small talk.

“Nah. It’s all good now, he learned his place,” he replied, finishing the sandwich. He let you clean his mouth with the paper napkin.

“Good.”

“I received your letter yesterday, by the way” he told you.

“They took their sweet time reading it, didn’t they?” you fumed.

“I’m sure the warden loves your prose, and the poems. I certainly do,” he said. “I especially loved the lines that said ‘My heart is a bird/ that every night takes flight/ to you and guards your sleep’, and ‘I dream of your hands around my waist, / your breath on my neck, / your heat inside mine, / and our hearts beating in sync’”.

“I wasn’t too inspired with the rhymes in that last one,” you said, grimacing.

As much as you didn’t feel any embarrassment for the words you wrote to Noah, you didn’t want them repeated to you. Creative writing was an outlet your therapist recommended, as were the dabbles in poetry, but you didn’t fancy yourself a poet. Noah was the poet and the musician, not you.

“By the way, do you need another notebook?” you asked.

You had given him a pretty notebook when he entered prison so he could annotate whatever he wanted, and you knew he had been using it as a sort of journal and to write his lyrics and compose his music. A month before the anniversary of his first year locked up, he had requested a new one. You had bought one with more pages that time. He was on notebook number three now.

“No, I still haven’t filled the last one. I will tell you when I need a new one, but thanks for asking,” he said, smiling. “How are you, baby? How are things at work?”

“I’m fine. Before I forget, I have a new manager now, a lady in her fifties - the old one was fired because Shelly reported him to HR for attempted grooming,” you explained. Shelly was your only underage coworker, a sixteen-year-old girl who was still in high-school. “Anyway, the new one is very nice, and upon learning about you, she told me she has a son in prison.”

“In here?” he asked.

“No, he’s in another facility. He committed tax evasion and had a money laundering scheme going on. He got mixed with the wrong crowd, apparently,” you informed him. “They don’t see each other that much, but she writes him letters every week. She told the whole team that my visitation days are sacred and that if anyone needs a change of schedule, to try anyone else, because I am not available,” you finished smiling.

“I already like her,” he said, containing a laugh.

“She also said you were very handsome ‘despite all that ink’”, you told him, marking the quotations in the air. “She’s kind of old-fashioned regarding tattoos.”

“Tell her I said thank you for the compliment,” he replied. “And that I don’t take offense to her not liking my tattoos.”

“Will do!”

“I have something for you,” he said, taking a square envelope from under his ass. “I recorded it with the boys. I want you to be the first to listen to it,” he said, as you took the CD out of the envelope. You smiled, looking at the title and all the signatures.

“I feel honored, honestly,” you said, immediately putting it in your purse. “I’ll listen to it tonight, though it might take me a while to write an in-depth review.”

“Don’t worry about that, we can wait. The boys send their regards, by the way,” he said.

“Tell them I said hi back. I’m so happy you made friends here! And Nick… well, I am not happy that he is in prison too, but… at least you already had a friend the day you arrived, you know?” you said.

“I was relieved to see a familiar face the first day, I’m not gonna lie,” Noah admitted.

“By the way, I spoke with the lawyer…” you began.

“No,” he snapped, cutting you off.

“But I would just spend two years, and your sentence would be reduced -” you began.

He grabbed your wrists.

“Look at me: we already talked about this, and I won’t let you spend a single day behind bars. I fired the gun, I take the blame,” he said, holding your gaze intently.

“But…” you tried to argue. While you recognized and were grateful for his sacrifice, you didn’t want him to spend so much time behind bars. You thought you were strong enough to endure two years if that meant he got to be free earlier. Why wouldn’t he let you do that for him? You loved him just as he loved you; why shouldn’t you sacrifice in return?

“No buts,” he said, putting a finger over your lips. “I heard what the guards do to the female inmates in prison and I won’t let you go through that to shave five years off my sentence,” he said, finally releasing your hands. “End of discussion.”

“Okay. I love you so much, Noah!” you said after a pause, on the verge of tears.

“I love you too, baby. Now, don’t cry! You know I hate to see that here,” he said, and you knew he was right: the crying was best reserved for when no one could see, because any sign of weakness on your part could reflect badly on him. You took a deep breath and smiled at him. “That’s better. Do you have an appointment with your therapist this week?”

“Yeah, this afternoon,” you nodded. You had taken notes to talk to your therapist about his response to your proposal, whatever his response would be, though you didn’t expect him to agree, honestly.

“Good. Tell her I enjoyed the books she recommended.”

“That one is also a recommendation from her,” you said, lightly tapping the Damien Echols book. “The extra material is all my idea, though,” you whispered. He arched an eyebrow, questioningly. “You’ll see.”

Not long after, you had to end the visit. With another quick hug and light peck on the lips, you said goodbye to him. On the way back home, you put the CD in the player of your car and listened to it. The lyrics were so beautiful and his voice sounded so clear, like he was beside you, that you had to pull over to the side of the road for a couple of minutes while you let the tears finally flow.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” a voice asked. You lifted your gaze to find a police officer standing by the side of your car. You rolled down the window and stopped the music. “Are you injured?”

“No, sir, I am fine. I just got emotional and… I needed a moment.”

“I see. What was that band, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Oh! That was Bad Omens; it’s my husband’s band. They’re on Spotify, I think.”

“They sound good, I’ll give them a listen. If you are better now, I suggest you go on your way,” he said.

“Yes, sir. Thank you for your concern.”

Every lawyer you ever spoke to always told you the same thing: if you’re ever stopped by a police officer, be polite and don’t let them know you have a spouse in prison, because they will look at you differently and there’s a chance they won’t be nice to you upon learning that fact.

You continued your way and arrived home in time to prepare a meal for yourself, feed the cat and go to your therapist appointment.

Meanwhile, Noah was in his cell, unwrapping the book from its plastic. He noticed an envelope taped to the back cover. He opened it to find several pictures. Eight of them were of you, recreating some pin-up posters; hot, but nothing that could be considered pornographic. The ninth, tenth and eleventh were more risqué, something that could be classified as artistic nudes, but the twelfth…

He took the picture number 12 in his hands, looking at it closely. It was a close up of your nude chest, focusing on the tattoo over your sternum. Your nipples were not in frame, but he knew your breasts far too well, so he was able to complete that image mentally.

He carefully picked up the other photographs and put them back in the envelope. He then taped this one to the metal frame of the bunk bed above him and slid a hand in his pants. His mind was already racing, conjuring the image of you naked beside him, kissing him and touching him with light fingers.

“This one’s for you, baby” he muttered, stroking his cock.

Not shortly after he was finished, Nick leaned into the cell.

“Dude, what are you doing? We’re waiting for you in the music room!” he said.

“What?”

“Did you forget we scheduled a rehearsal for today?” Nick asked, entering the cell.

“Yeah, sorry…”

“Were you reading?” Nick asked, seeing the book next to Noah. “Is it any good?” he wanted to know, picking it up.

“Give it back!”

But it was too late: Nick had already seen the envelope and was inspecting its content.

“Oh, I see! You weren’t reading, you were jerking off in her honor” he laughed. “To be fair, I also do it in her honor sometimes,” he joked.

“Not funny, bro! Not funny.” Noah replied, snatching the book from him. “It’s my wife you’re talking about.”

“Sorry. Is something wrong between you two?” Nick asked, suddenly serious.

“No. She tried to bring up the appeal, thinks she should take part of the blame,” he said. “I told her she can forget about it, and I hope this time she listens. I understand where she comes from, but I love her far too much to let her do it.”

“And she loves you far too much not to try to convince you,” Nick pointed out.

“I guess so…”

“She does. I mean, she risked flirting with the guy at the entrance to bring you this, didn’t she?” Nick said, pointing at the book.

“What do you mean?”

“Rumor says that if you don’t want something to be too closely inspected, you compliment the guard at the entrance. Works like a charm if you’re a pretty woman, or at least that’s what my cousin said,” Nick told him. “Those pictures? They would probably be considered porn and confiscated. She’s a criminal mastermind, dude.”

“Yeah, sure,” Noah said, amused, but his laughter quickly died on his lips, as the implications of what Nick just told him sank in: you had taken too many risks for him and his pleasure, more than he was comfortable with. He sighed; his beautiful, smart and reckless wife! What was he going to do with you? “You will get out before me. Would you keep an eye on her for me?”

“Sure, dude. She’s my friend too, you know?”

Noah knew you also corresponded with Nick and talked to him on the phone. Past benders aside, you two were close enough for Nick to call you a friend. Knowing his friend, Nick was likely the one to suggest the fiery red lingerie to her as a birthday surprise, and if his suspicion was correct, Noah was very grateful to him.

“Thank you.”

“No need to thank me yet. We’re still both in this shithole, so maybe we could go to the music room now and rehearse?”

“Sure.”

That Saturday, while you were watching a movie, your phone rang. It was a collect call from jail, which you quickly accepted.

“Hey, baby!” Noah’s voice greeted you through the line.

“Hi! How are you? Is everything okay?” you asked, straightening yourself up on the couch. He didn’t seem distraught, but he was in jail after all, you could never be sure.

“Everything is as okay as it can be. I just wanted to hear your voice,” he said. “Oh, I have begun with your present. You were right, it’s a very interesting reading.”

“Did you enjoy the extras?” you asked.

“Oh, yeah! Thank you, baby.”

“By the way, I almost finished analyzing the record,” you told him. “I have the last two songs left and the conclusions, and I will have a full review, song by song.”

“You know you don’t have to do that, right?” he said.

“I know, but I like doing it, and I like to think that my reviews are useful for you guys, you know? To have a listener’s perspective,” you replied.

“Of course they are useful!” he assured you. “I just say it’s not an obligation,” he clarified.

“I know, and it doesn’t feel like it,” you swore.

“Okay. I need to go now, but I love you. Sweet dreams, baby,” he said.

“Sweet dreams, my love! I love you too,” you replied, and he hung up.

The next conjugal visit couldn’t come fast enough.

#poppy writes #noah sebastian #noah sebastian fanfic #convict!noah sebastian #noah sebastian x reader #my ride or die #bad omens fanfiction

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