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always-andromeda · 2 years

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xiii. sound of a love song | Joby Taylor x fem!Reader

Joby Taylor x fem!Reader

Word Count | 5,476

Summary | Ready to give him a piece of your mind, you and Joby make a lot of startling revelations.

Author’s Note | buckle yourselves up, friends. that's all I gotta say about this one. also gonna be ghosting for a few hours after posting this! maybe send me asks on what y'all think of the chapter for me to read afterwards? (don't make me beg......pretty please)

Warnings | bits of fluff, smut (MDNI), and fighting (the best combination lmao), unprotected sex, overstimulation, nothing else I can think of!

You slammed the hotel room door behind you and kept your hand on the knob. Though you weren't looking, you heard the squeak of springs as Joby plunked down on the bed.

For every aggravating thing he'd done in the time you'd known him, it was almost comical that it was that little sound that set off the time bomb in your head. Your ears perked up as you listened to him unzip the sides of his boots, sliding them off and setting them to the side. Then you could feel his stare hitting your back, practically burning a hole in his jacket.

Somehow, through the anger, you hadn't thought to take it off; hadn't even imagined the moment where you'd have to shed this second skin and lose another layer of his comfort.

"I assume you have something to say." Joby finally states blankly. You can already hear the indifference. And it makes you furious. Just that morning it was all about ‘we’. He was begging for a morning kiss. Reaching for you in bed like he was going to actually hold you in the light of day. That tiny, unfathomable ‘we’ tied you to him in a way that made so much sense, yet, it drove you absolutely insane.

“What...the fuck...was that?” Your demand was frank, wrought with the control you needed over the situation.

You thought back to that night in your apartment. From the beginning, he had made his intentions crystal clear. If anything, you were the fool for sticking around so long, believing he could resign to anything close to friendship. For a few, silly, split seconds, you thought he could.

“What was what?” He scoffed.

Right then you whipped around and snapped at him, “Don’t you play dumb with me, Joby Taylor. What the fuck was that all about?”

“You mean me playing your song?”

Your flushed face screwed up, “What else could I possibly be angry about?”

“I don’t know. I thought you’d be pretty fucking happy about it.” He mumbled, glaring at you from beneath half lidded eyes.

“Why would I be happy with you stealing and performing a silly old song I wrote when I was teenager?”

“First of all, it wasn't silly.” He said matter of factly. “Second, I thought it would show you that someone has their fucking eyes open.”

“So you show me that by embarrassing me with that song?” Your hands expressed your skeptical confusion. How could he be so selfish? So willfully ignorant of his actions?

He waved the grievance away and grimaced, “Fine, forget about the old song. I’ll just go fuck myself, I guess, and you can go back to living in la la land pretending that everything is totally fine and totally normal and that I didn’t put my entire heart out on my sleeve there.” He cracked an obviously annoyed smile at the end.

His entitlement was becoming more and more infuriating. As much as you didn't want to yell, you couldn't help the harsh words that were brewing in your chest.

You exploded, “I am so sick of this self righteous bullshit! Ever since you met me, Joby, you’ve been falling for this completely idealized version of me. You think I’m a troubled girl who can save you from yourself. Fucking, news flash, I’m not your fantasy. I'm just someone who was stupid enough to tolerate your bullshit.”

He stood, a bitter snicker already growing on his face, “You’re right, I have been falling for an idealized version of you. Because in reality, you don’t believe in yourself enough to just leave all of the bullshit behind.”

"Excuse me?”

“You heard me. The woman I wrote about and romanticized would know that she doesn’t need that fucking douchebag to do everything she wants to. That version of knows that she’s the coolest fucking person around and isn’t afraid of anyone knowing it.”

Before you could make it stop, your eyes were glossing over. The woman I wrote about. From anyone else, it might've made your heart flutter. But from Joby Taylor...the man who wrote bland song after bland song about sex and substances just to fuel his ego...it came like an insult. You'd never heard a Snake Trouble song that had been sentimental or heartfelt. Every line was about some new girl, drug, or party that seemed to ornament his life.

The idea that you were just another decoration to him...another line in a song that he'd get sick of playing...it was enough to send you over the edge.

Breathing hard, you said, “You...asshole. So you were writing about me?”

“Yeah? And?" He narrowed his eyes at you, his mouth hung open in that cocky way as he said, "As if you weren’t writing about me either.”

It's been long enough that you know not to play into his game. You shouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing you get nervous. It would only make him plunge his heels further in the mud.

“I’ve never written a thing about you.” You defended yourself. But not even you could believe your quivering voice and aching throat as you swallowed back a sob.

Joby laughed then. And that's what made your facade falter completely.

He countered, “Oh, fucking come on. Hiding behind a cigarette screen, dancing as I fall asleep? A bottle of rouge makes me wanna know you? Wasting a night, but I have your brown eyes?" Joby recited the lines from your notebook in broken pieces, but you got the gyst of them. "You’re telling me that none of that was about me? About us? Because the last time I checked, your boyfriend doesn’t smoke cigarettes and drink wine with you. And isn’t he a blue eyed motherfucker? I don’t fuckin' remember. But I’m sure we both know who definitely has brown fuckin' eyes.”

He's right. The proof stares into yours. A lot deeper than you'd like them to.

You can't even begin to scrap together the little shreds of anger and betrayal that his words tear into you. Besides, anger wouldn't stop him. Anger would only tell him that he was winning; that if he just poked and prodded a little bit more, he'd reduce you to a giant mess. All he wanted was to sweep you up and dump you in his bed again. And his taunting brown eyes were still fucking there.

“I made it all up. Have some fucking imagination for once.”

Joby picked apart the excuse immediately, “I thought you said you write what you know? And I’d say this sounds like how we know each other. Face it, this entire fucking time you’ve been trying to convince yourself that you don’t give a shit about me." He smirks devilishly, "But you can’t stop thinking about me. You’re just too scared to admit that you actually feel something for someone. It’s too close for you, huh?”

“As if you don’t know anything about being afraid of feelings.” You asserted, voice only a little wobbly. Still, it doesn't escape Joby's notice.

And as much as he wants his point to hit home, something drags him back.

You're going too far. You're only going to make this fall apart.

He visualizes the vines shriveling away and dying on the trellis. All the ripe fruit, waiting to be picked, spontaneously turning to dust. After everything you'd both done...it wouldn't have been fair. To hurt you like he had after that first night…after he promised he wouldn’t do it again? He was sure he’d done many little things that made you angry with him. But this was new. He could choose himself or he can choose you. And by now, he knew which one he’d choose any day.

Joby’s hand reached for yours and you limply let him take it. He dipped his head, shifting so you'd meet his gaze again. You're far too set on the drywall behind him.

Voice softening, he tried again, “You scared the shit out of me. So, yeah, I was an asshole about it sometimes. But here I fucking am, baby. Because I couldn’t deal with it if I spent all of this time being so fucking obsessed with you just for you to say that you’re too afraid to do anything about it.”

“I’m not—" your voice broke before you looked at him, lips pulled into a thin line. "I’m not afraid of anything.”

“Then why does the idea of me writing about you bother you so much? Why are you so angry about what happened last night? Have you never had someone be honest about everything? Is that it? You just think everyone is lying to you when they say they love you. Because it doesn't sound like him when they say it, huh?"

You couldn't think about William. The anxiety was already getting to be too much even without you thinking of how furious he'd be with you.

“Why do you even care about me? You said it when we first met: I’m a shitty cover artist. I’ll never get anywhere. And if you keep telling yourself that I’m someone special, you’re gonna end up in the same place.” You hated hearing the admission spilling from your lips. So many of those words could've easily come from William himself.

“I don’t care about any of that shit. I write about you because you’re fucking fantastic and you deserve to have hundreds of thousands of songs written about you. You deserve fucking church choirs and orchestras and encores and every single fucking crowd cheering for you. Because you’re the greatest thing that's ever happened to me."

“Joby, just go.”

He pressed on, firmer than before, “No, I’m not gonna walk away just so you can tell yourself that it was always going to turn out that way. I want you to look into my eyes and tell me that you don’t fucking want me. Then I’ll walk right out that door. I’ll burn every line I’ve ever written about you. I won’t see you. I won’t sing about you. I won’t even think about you." He was close enough that he brought your hand to his chest. Part of you says it's another ploy. Just so you can sink into the heat of his body once again. Even larger than that reach in logic, you realized you could feel his frantic heartbeat. "But if any of that sounds devastating to you too…all you have to do is say it. Whatever you want from me, it’s yours. It’s all been yours the whole time.”

“Joby…I want—" You split in half as soon as you finally gazed into glossy brown eyes again. “Fuck—” You buried your head in your hands and let every mask slip away as tears spilled down your cheeks.

“I want all of it. I want the fucking church choirs and the orchestra and whatever else you can give. I want you to write songs about me until you can’t think of a single thing you could say anymore. And you’re right, I am afraid. I’m afraid because if this falls apart, then I’m fucked. I can’t go from having something this bright...and...intense...to nothing again. I can't do it."

“I won’t let that happen.” He dared to bring you even further into his arms until you stiffened and pulled back.

You maintained his intense eye contact and you spoke clearly, almost issuing a warning, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“What makes you think I can’t keep that promise?”

“Because I know you. Fine—you’ve changed—but at the end of the day, I can’t be another Claire to you.”

Joby was rendered speechless, looking down at his boots and feeling that knife slide a centimeter deeper into his skin. It pinched right next to the outward curve of his spine, barely grazing his heart once more.

“Is that really what you think I’d do to you?”

He became minuscule. Something close to vulnerable.

“Joby, it’s what I know you’d do.”

For once…he got it. Could finally grip the knife and strain it against the grain of his hardened flesh, ripping it free from its tight confinement between his bones. He could deal with the wound later; he's set on getting a good look at the shiny blade, covered in the ruby red waters of his fears, hopes, and regrets. Every single one of his emotional hang ups chipped into the blade, only making it duller; deadlier.

If he had been a weaker man, you could've killed him. And he would've let you. But he wasn't weak, wasn't resigned to hiding away the simple truth behind speeches and songs anymore. If he really tried his best, he could boil the stew of emotions down to its bare bones.

He whispered, “I can't lose this. I can't lose you.”

“I don’t want to lose you either." You sniffed, "But I don’t want to lose myself. Not again.”

“I know you won’t believe me, but this entire thing is so much different than when I was with Claire. It's why I didn't recognize it. All of this is just as new to me as it is to you.”

“Oh really?” A small, cynical smile peeked through your cracked lips.

Joby figured he'd indulge your satisfaction a little, “Yeah. And it’s fucking overwhelming. Because one second you think you’ve seen it all but then all of the sudden, these other things come in. A-a-and you’ve never seen them before. You want to run away but you don’t want to stay the same." He had to pause to figure out how to end his explanation. Fuck, he'd never been good at these things on the fly. He stammered, "Because w-what if that new thing…is better than you ever could’ve imagined?”

“Joby, don’t dig yourself a deeper hole…” As much as you wanted to hear his sweet words, they already rattled around your head like empty promises.

“Please, just let me finish.” He was silent and thought for a little longer. “You said it was all too intense. And, you know what? I agree. So why can’t we start small? W-w-we can drop…all this…pressure…of being muses for each other and just be with each other. We’ll explore everything, a little bit at a time. And if you ever decide that you don’t want me anymore, I’m gone. And you won’t have to worry about me ever again.” He guided your hand to his cheek.

You rubbed your thumb over the angle of his cheekbone; memorized the way the grooves of your fingertips ran so smoothly over his pale skin. From this angle, he was all soft curves and alcoves you could bury your mouth into. He was tangled wires and chaos and the taste of sweat and leather and cheap soap that made you cringe only a little. Because it was still him. And for now...that was good enough.

“You promise you won’t get sick of me too quickly?” You ventured carefully.

“I promise." He furrowed his brow, chuckled a bit, "To be fair, you’d have to really be trying for me to get sick of you, though.”

You sniffed and returned the modest laugh through your raw throat, “So what would I have to do exactly? Go into as specific of detail as you possibly can.”

“Are you already trying to get rid of me?” He eyed you suspiciously.

“I’m testing you.”

“Then bring it on.”

There was a beat of silence filled with his fond gaze and your bated breath before you burst the bubble, “This doesn’t absolutely terrify you?”

“Nope. Not even a bit."

You shook your head, "Oh, at least you're humble about it."

“Every fucked up choice I’ve made before…I never thought about them. I’m not the most…thoughtful guy. If you couldn’t tell.”

With the roll of your eyes, Joby knew the mood didn't call for him to continue the pitiful joke.

He started again, “But, I just— I want to try.”

Your lips were buttoned closed.

“I’m sorry for playing your song.” He tried a dreaded apology.

Your expression stayed blank and you replied, “Okay.”

“Why does it…bother you?”

You hand dropped to his shoulder and circled the leather there, "It reminds me of how little I actually knew. I had never fallen in love but I thought I knew what it felt like. I thought that one day I'd just find a person who would fill in every single crack.”

"And instead you got me."

You fiddled with the zipper at the edge of his jacket and sighed. "I'm starting to think that's not so bad, though. It’s gonna be a hell of a mess to figure out, though.”

Joby sighed, "What we are right now...doesn't matter. I just want to make something work. I can’t even begin to understand it...but I want to.”

Painfully and slowly, you tugged him down to your level by the collar of his leather jacket. He followed willingly. Lips inches from his own, your breathing was unfettered. Still, he waited for you to set the tempo.

"Then we can help each other figure it out."

You kissed him, softer than any of the previous ones but it sets his belly aflame just as much as ever.

"I fucking love you." He mumbled into the corner of your mouth.

You withdrew, just enough for a puff of hot air to leave you and hit his parted lips. He kept his eyes closed, assuming you were glaring at him.

"Too much?"

"I don't know." you whispered, "But, like I said, we'll figure it out." You still idled, processing the words. Like you were deciding on whether or not you should spoil him any more.

Joby doesn't feel the sting of rejection. Moreso, it's the gleam of opportunity that makes him grab you by the chin and drag you back to his hungry lips; he laid you back on the bed and hovered over you. It's the searing truth that he'd been waiting to have you all to himself for far too long. Now that you're both unattached...what else was there to do but entwine himself with you?

You returned the kiss with a new fervor, one that spoke to the confidence he'd imbibed you with. He makes you feel electric all over again as his arms engulf your frame. His nose prods your cheek as he gets deeper, mixing his tongue into the production. The second his hand drifted up your side, you were a goner.

"You said you'd give me anything." You breathed against his lips.

Just getting to work, he was quiet; dumbstruck and trailing open mouth pecks down your chin to your neck. The zipper of his jacket was pulled down just far enough on your chest that he spotted the offending marks painting your skin. Dragging his tongue along them, he suckled once more, knowing he was only making an even bigger mess of you.

"Anything and everything, princess." he repeated in a husky whisper that vibrated off the column of your throat.

"Then I want you. I'll keep choosing you. Over and over again." You said. He hummed deviously into the spot between your shoulder and your neck. His breath was already hot and needy. Your fingers flew to his hair as he tended to your battered flesh; his handiwork.

You groaned softly but choked midway through. The sound morphed into a strangled gurgle as he cupped one of your tits and gave it a squeeze in his large palm. If he really wanted, he could work all of your knots out just like this. But the more he indulged in his frenzied kissing, the more you wanted all of him.

“Please…” you whined, pulling at the hem of his shirt that was now balled in your fist, begging him to shed the layers separating you from feeling his familiar flushed skin.

Joby chuckled softly, “Well, since you asked so nicely.” He shot you that smug, squinty eyed smirk again that made you groan in annoyance as you undressed his top half.

The years of smoking, drinking, and suffering over his music made him pale and lanky. Joby had never felt more naked with your all too forgiving eyes roaming over his bare chest, like you could somehow absolve him of that pesky old past of his.

In this way, he's a virgin. Completely untouched by the hands of someone who needed him in more ways than the physical.

He swore he could see tears gathering in your lash line when you murmured, “I want to see you. All of you.”

Cautiously, you took his shoulders and urged him to turn so his back was to you. Of course, he did what you wanted him to. Joby sat at the edge of the bed, head hung and shoulders slumped as he waited to feel what you were planning for him.

Blinking rapidly and chest heaving, he couldn't identify the cocktail of emotions that were swirling around in his head. He could pick out flecks of lust and a good amount of excitement. But the aftertaste? It's all bittersweet vulnerability; enough to make him wince when you finally touched him.

It was light. Barely there as you traced the outlines of the tattoos on his back. You began with the angel wings. Followed the curves of each detailed feather. It looked a bit newer, the ink contrasting heavily against his almost anemic skin. Despite the fact that his shoulders hadn't seen much sun in months, there were freckles gracing the highest point of his shoulders. Right underneath the hair that falls over the back of his neck, those tiny dots litter his skin.

In large, decorative letters stretched across his shoulder blades is the word 'trouble'. You giggled, finding it quite ironic since he was becoming part of the solution for you.

"When did you get this one?" You wondered as your finger traced over the letters.

A shiver needled at the tail of his spine.

He was hard. You hadn't even touched him there but he was turned on. He didn't have the heart to stop your tender ministrations along his pale skin. But, oh boy, was he close to flipping you on your back when your lips coasted against the ridges of his shoulders. He tried not to think about those pink, plush pillows all over him; it made him dizzy. The question churned in his overwhelmed head and he struggled more than he should've for the answer.

"A few...years...ago. I-i-it was one of the first—" he inhaled sharply as your teeth grazed over the spot he thought the L would be, "It was the first one I got...after we started the band..."

He had been twenty when his friends sat around him, guzzling beers as they made fun of him, facedown and wincing as the artist worked on the massive piece. He’d gotten a few before: the pinup girl and the crest on his arms. But this one had taken a few sessions to complete. He spent a portion of their earnings from their first few shows on it. And it was entirely worth it.

It was meant to prove his dedication; he was willing to brand his flesh with the label to show that he was committed to being a star.

"What about the snake?" you continued innocently enough until your hand slithered around and ran over the large, inked serpent on the left side of his chest. You must’ve known that his heart was beating out of his chest, right? He practically felt it vibrating in his skull. His blood seemed to be pulsating with want.

He swallowed hard, keeping focus on the next question, "The snake came after...a-all the guys...w-we got snakes together...just for the band."

That had happened two albums in. The second album was an utter failure. The snakes were meant to gather their broken pieces of motivation and tie them all together again. His friends tattoos had been smaller, more hidden. Joby...he simply had to get it imprinted into his skin, directly over his heart.

"You really care about that band, don't you?"

Why were you suddenly so curious? He was ripe for the picking, itching to be plucked from the stem so he could dissolve on your tongue. Yet you took your time. Slow and deliberate with every touch, you traced his tattoos as if they were drawings in your notebook.

"Snake Trouble...it meant everything to me..." Maybe that's what had always been wrong with him; why people just couldn’t do it for him. The music didn't judge. Didn't call him a deadbeat. Didn't make him feel alone. You didn't do those things either. You called him out on his selfishness, on his attitude, on how prone he was to being an asshole. Nonetheless, you embraced him all the same. Just like the music always had.

He was perfectly in tune, just for you. Whimpering so harmoniously as your thumb rubbed over the hardened nipple underneath the tattoo. Tears threatened to spill out of his eyes as he greedily waited for more; more of your hands, your mouth, any piece of skin that could quell the way he was aching in his heart and his skinny jeans.

He breathed a sigh of relief when you came back around to his front, lifting one of your legs so you could rest comfortably, straddling his lap. However, you were nowhere near close to being done with teasing him.

Joby was far too pretty for a quick fuck. You had long since reckoned with that idea. You had to know what made him tick. What little things could you do to make his breath hitch in his lungs? To make him really squirm underneath you? You were simply working to reacquaint yourself with the dimension that you'd only gotten glimpses of. He was a song you just had to learn all the notes to. Every string of curses he let out as you eased yourself back and forth on his straining bulge was simply a new lyric to memorize. This, you concluded, was your absolute favorite love song.

He sputtered out a new line, “You’re such a bitch.”

“Yeah? Not as much of an asshole as you are, though.” You taunted him without skipping a beat.

“How am I the asshole?”

Your hand crept up his neck. Thumb rested on his chin, firmly implanted in the patch of facial hair, you skewed him closer to your face, “You sang that little song up there—”

Joby interrupted with a pitiful groan, “I told you I was sorry.”

“Let me finish. When you were singing …I wanted to march up there and kiss you.”

“Seemed like you wanted to punch me.”

You giggled. “Only a little. Mostly, I just wanted you all over me again.”

Joby couldn't take it. He was tense in every sense of the word. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum, princess.”

“Isn’t that the point of this?”

“No— I mean— yes…fuck— I need to be inside you.”

You paused then, deliberating his fate. You wouldn't let him down like this, would you?

“You’ve never considered what I’d be willing to give you before, have you?”

Your sincerity could've rendered him speechless, “Huh?”

“You said you’d give me anything. What if I don't want to give you anything? What would you do then?”

“Fuck— I don’t know if I could let you go.”

“Then you’re lucky I love you so much.”

If he wasn't so sick of this game, he'd laugh. But he's far too aware of the irony of this position; the immense control you had over him.

This isn't fair. His critic wept internally.

Oh, but it is. With how much you antagonized her...you deserve worse. And he knew his conscience was right. This was the most delightful sort of torture for him. Because at least now he knew that you would keep him. At least for a little while.

“Jesus fucking Christ…you’re such a fucking bitch.”

For every biting word he uttered, you could hear the sentiment interlacing each syllable. Before you even asked it, you knew your answer. “But I’m yours, right?”

“You're all mine. Allllll mine.”

"Good, then prove it." you challenged him. As quickly as you could bite your lip, he had you pinned back to the mattress.

From that moment, there was no more teasing, no more games, no more acting. For the first time in years, Joby felt alive as he undid his belt. The action was almost muscle memory to him. None of his stumbling hands, only his mind focused entirely on what he was going to give you.

As Joby pushed his cock inside of you, he believed he could do it forever. He could never get tired of exploring this dripping passage, leading him all the way home to your heart. There weren't any clever lines he could use on you now. His head was too thoroughly fucked for him to make any sense anyway.

You were giddy, absolutely gushing with anticipation and willing to take every inch of him. He fucked you relentlessly; you expected nothing less from him. Yet it warmed your heart, hearing none of his smooth dirty talk, only his desperate grunts and groans that came with each thrust. Those were the sounds you had craved.

You dug your heels into his back and forced him deeper until you heard a consistent beat; the slapping of skin on skin. You yelped in time to it. Felt the wires in your belly rub together until the sparks were flying and singeing your skin. Your brain was severed from your body by the heat of pleasure.

Against all odds, you came first. With a beautifully high note leaving your throat, you shuddered and contracted around him as the bridge within you broke. But even after the crescendo, the beat persisted. Though you vaguely muttered for him to keep going—to keep using you—he didn't hesitate. Except he wasn’t going to use you.

Joby did little to soften his approach as he readjusted himself slightly. His hands now gripped your hips and raised your bottom half off the bed so he could keep pounding away. Your numb body shook each time and you held onto the sheets to keep yourself steady.

Your clit throbbed painfully as Joby thrusted right through the jolts of overstimulation that made tears roll down the sides of your face. This was your own encore. Your sweet little song for the road.

He reached one of his sweating, feverish hands forward and gathered a bit of the slick gathering around the base of his cock with two fingers. He used it to rub tight, fast circles around your aching bundle.

Your skin was burning up like you were sitting in hell, but his long fingers playing you expertly convinced you that you were in heaven. You heard the church choir and the orchestra and leading all of them was Joby. His fingers sent you straight into another climax. This time, you finished with a sweet little broken whine, entirely dried up from the performance.

He couldn't think far enough to do anything else until he was spurting in you, nearing the end of the composition. Even then, he wouldn't cease the lazy jerking of his hips. He had to make sure that all of his sticky spend would be lining your insides for days, never mind the tears prickling his eyes. He needed you to feel him in the morning, maybe even forever; however long you'd have him.

Because he'd do anything for you. Even if you intended to leave him the very next day, he would handle it. It would kill him. But he'd manage. He'd find some other way to heal if you'd rather he not be there. He could only hope that you were being as honest as he was with you.

The room was stiflingly hot by the time he finished. For a second, he thought that he was lucky his lungs didn't give out with how much energy he'd dedicated to composing that symphony. But it was for you. Always for you.

Though only a few words had passed through the heat of the moment, that seemed to be enough to describe the moment. It was a tangled bond that was only knotted further as he removed himself from you, yet stayed in place on your chest.

Sick and insane to healed and saved, Joby Taylor kissed the salty tears from your temple. If his throat wasn’t so ragged and raw, he could’ve cheered. Instead he held you like you were the only thing he'd ever need. And deep down inside, he was starting to believe it.

Taglist | @lokis-army-77 @angelicbruhl @pierres-new-spectacles @trelaney @babiezo @alemonyoyo @hollyisaberry @the-odd-devil @hjaolv @theluvcafe

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lost-in-sokovia · 2 years

Note

bear hugs + rolling over in bed, switching positions during a kiss for joby/jay? tysm sweetie!

i love ur content so u can imagine my excitement at this 🤭

AH you’re so sweet omg🥹

bear hug

“j— joby holy shit!” you laughed as your boyfriend nearly tackled you in a tight hug after walking through the front door. his guitar was stood against the wall and his keys were thrown carelessly on the ground. he was still wearing sunglasses and his leather jacket that you loved so dearly; it always smelled like cigarettes, beer, a little bit of sweat, and him.

joby’s big hands clutched at opposite sides of your waist as his long arms crossed on your back. he was squeezing you just enough, not preventing airflow but enough to make it impossible to move if you tried.

he said nothing as your giggles and laughter died down, taking little steps as he walked you backwards slowly at first. he was never usually this outgoing or bold about hugs or greeting you after a normal day.

“what’s gotten into you?” you asked lovingly as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder. you allowed him to silently push you all the way back to your bedroom and you sighed, his face still nuzzled against you. you wiggled his sunglasses off of his face and threw them to the side as he fell with you onto your unmade bed. he let out a groan as the two of you fell, his weight holding you beneath him as you wrapped your legs around his waist, stroking his dark hair as you held him.

you worked your fingers until they were underneath his chin and pulling his face up to look at you. you pressed a kiss against his slightly chapped lips while using all your might to roll him over so you were now straddling his waist. your fingers curled through the thin growth of hair on his chin.

you pulled away and looked at joby’s warm expression, his tired green eyes admiring you.

“hey,” you whispered. he let his head fall back and let out a large exhale.

“hey,” he replied with a gravelly voice as his eyes closed. you leaned forward to press your chest against his and carded your hands through his hair again.

“what was that all about?” you asked softly. the edge of his lips curled up to the hints of a grin and his shoulders barely shrugged.

“i was just thinking about my girl today,” he replied nonchalantly. you pressed another gentle kiss to his lips as his hands ran up and down your sides tiredly. you hummed and shook your head.

“you’re just a big old softie, joby taylor.”

send me a prompt!!!

#joby taylor for ellen #joby taylor x you #joby taylor x reader #joby taylor #for ellen #paul dano x y/n #paul dano x you #paul dano x reader #paul dano fanfiction #paul dano fanfic #paul dano

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rad-nashton · 2 years

Text

joby taylor smells like cigarettes and the most sexual scent imaginable and you cannot tell me otherwise.

#paul dano #joby taylor #paul dano head cannons

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lovely--lover · 2 years

Text

I’m a Performer NSFW

Warnings: oral (m and f receiving), fingering, 69ing, jerking off a little bit, like one ass slap, Joby being kind of rude but its expected 🙄 lol let me know if I missed any

The local bar where everyone goes to wind down on the weekends. You were no exception. The lights were dim, the floor sticky, and it smelled like alcohol and smoke but there was a comfort in it.

Allowing you to hide away in the dark corners, sipping a drink while watching the other patrons. Nothing interesting usually happened although sometimes if you were lucky a fight would break out or a girl would find her boyfriend with another woman and you would have free entertainment for the night. Tonight was supposed to be the same as every other, uninteresting.

Sitting in the corner of the bar you glanced around, all the usuals, except…A man sitting at the bar. Black hair, black clothes, he almost blended into the dimmed light. Only his side profile was available to your eyes making you curious. You kept your eyes on him while sipping your drink hoping to get a look at his face.

While sipping your drink you felt the heat grow within you as the alcohol began to mix into your bloodstream. Taking another sip nothing came through the straw, looking down the glass was empty. With liquid courage, you got up and approached the bar sitting a couple of seats away from the man.

The man's face was available for your gaze now. He was handsome in a way you weren't used to. The lengthy black hair was tucked behind his ears exposing a hint of silver that matched the silver chains dangling from his neck and wrapped around his fingers.

As you were staring he looked over catching your gaze for a second before you turned. Heart thumping in your chest, he caught you, his eyes were green. You needed another drink.

Flagging down the bartender you ordered another drink consuming half of it before gaining the confidence to turn back around. The man was gone? Scanning the bar you found him…

He was stood in front of the the radio as bass and guitar filled the bar. His hips started swaying to the rhythm his hair falling to conceal his face. It didnt matter, all you could focus on was the way his hips thrusted into the air, the way his fingers raked down his chest. The movements were carefree and lost on the music and you were lost in him.

The reaction from your body was visceral. As sweat permeated every inch of flesh from the heat slowly consuming you, chest rising and falling as your breathes deepened, as your thighs spread unconsciously.

A whimper left your lips as he dropped to his knees and lowered his body to the floor. The curve of his back caught your gaze and you followed it up to his ass that was resting in the air. The tight black jeans hugged him perfectly. Everything stopped as your eyes trailed to his face.

The mans eyes were placed directly on you a smirk adorning his lips. This time you couldn't look away you didn't want to. The man had caught you so you might as well enjoy the show.

The performance was over you didn't realize until the man was in front you, his smug voice breaking your trance. “What’d you think?”

His voice was deep and smooth. It took you a few moments to form words “Where did you learn to dance like that?” He sat next to you with a laugh as he flagged down the bartender.

“Hey, I need two shots” the man turned to back to you a smile gracing his lips “I’m a performer. I’m the lead singer of a band. We’ve gone a tour a couple times so I’ve had a lot of practice.”.

Opening your mouth to reply it was left open. The man spoke first as two glasses were placed on the counter. “Drink with me”

He placed a shot in your hand and you stared down at the clear liquid. Glancing up you saw his head tip back bringing his shot with him. You shamelessly allowed your eyes to follow the drink as it slid down his throat the muscles flexing as he swallowed, it was mesmerizing.

When he leaned forward a small drop of alcohol slid down his chin. “Do you not like vodka, baby girl?” Your center throbbed at the name as you threw back the drink to distract yourself. The liquid burned as it trailed down your throat when you set the glass down you met his eyes and smiled, “I like vodka.”

The alcohol consumed through the night was catching up to you and everything started to let loose. “I recognize the usuals and people from around here but I don’t recognize you?”

He chuckled “That’s cause I’m not from around here. I’m just visiting for a while, staying at a motel right now.”

This handsome stranger was only going to be here for a limited time. “I’ve never stayed at any of the motels around here.” you giggled while leaning closer.

He chuckled with you as he leaned in closer only inches separating our faces “Yeah, you can come check out my room…if you want.” You felt as though there was more to his offer and when you saw the glint in his eyes and the smirk gracing on his lips you were proven right.

Grabbing his hand you stood and began tugging him to the exit “Yeah I’d like that…” You looked at the man questionably as you trailed off. “Joby, my names Joby.”

Joby led you into the room, it was small with a bed in the middle, black clothes strewn across the floor, a guitar resting against the wall. The scent of smoke and cologne filled your senses as you stepped inside.

Joby turned to you with his arms outspread “This is my temporary home” He began pointing out parts of the room “This is the TV, the bathrooms over there, and this…this is the bed.” He walked over and sat on the mattress.

You stayed standing in the middle of the room taking everything in “It’s a pretty nice place not bad for a motel” you giggled.

“You’re pretty” his voice called out. “Really pretty” licking his lips as he looked you over “You wanna strip for me?”

A wave of heat flooded your cheeks. The alcohol was loosing its affect and you wished you had more to calm your nerves. You came here with explicit intentions although you were hoping he would be the one stripping for you.

You watched as Joby placed his arms behind his head, leaning back against the headboard as he watched you with a smirk. “C’mon baby I gave you a show earlier now give me one.”

You took a breath and with shaking fingers grasped the bottom of your shirt before pulling it over your head. Too embarrassed to meet his gaze as you began swaying your hips to a nonexistent rhythm. Allowing your hands to roam your body caressing your chest before reaching around to unclasp your bra. A moan captured you attention glancing up..

Joby was exposed, a hand wrapped around himself slowly jerking up and down, hooded eyes looking right at you. “Why’d you stop baby girl?” eyebrow raising as a smirk graced his lips “Something get your attention?”

The heat between your legs throbbed at the sight. The tip was pink and leaking with each stroke of his hand. The slick sound filling your ears. Slowly lowering you crawled towards him wanting a taste.

Joby slowed his movements, watching your parted lips and the way your tongue escaped to wet them. Using his head he motioned towards his cock “You wanna suck it?” All you could muster was a moan in response. He laughed at your eagerness before resting back against the headboard, “Then do it.”

He was hard under your fingers the skin wet with precum that he’d already smeared. Leaning down you placed kisses from the base to the tip. Allowing your tongue to slip out occasionally and gather the wetness. The breathy moans from above spurred you on, sucking the tip slowly.

Peering up, Joby’s eyes were directly on your mouth, lips captured between his teeth, cheeks red. When his eyes met yours he let out a whiny voice “Just suck it already and stop messing with me”

Popping him from your mouth and began stroking him slowly “You’re kind or rude ya’ know” You giggled as his brow furrowed at your words but only whimpers left him mouth. “If you want something you should ask nicely.” As Joby opened his mouth you reached up your other hand and caressed his balls causing a loud moan to slip out.

His voice was breathy and desperate “Please suck me off and…and sit on my face while you do it” All your motions stopped as your eyed widened whenever you feel confident he seems to throw you off. You could feel the wetness dripping from your thighs as you stood and removed your panties before placing your core against his lips.

Before you could fully lower yourself on his face Joby had gripped your hips and pulled you down onto him. The warmth of his tongue delving into you licking the arousal from your walls. Your vision grew blurry with pleasure as you lost focus of everything except the feel of his tongue against you.

A slap on your ass broke got your attention as he mumbled into your cunt “Don’t forget about me sweetheart.” You could hear the smug tone of his voice even though it was muffled.

Leaning down you allowed his cock to slip past your lips down the back of your throat. The second Joby felt the warmth of your mouth around he groaned into you, “Oh god….that's good baby.” The vibrations found there way to your clit as you began to grind against his tongue.

All that could be heard was moans, sucking, and wetness . All that could be felt was Joby. His tongue on your clit, his fingers inside you, his hand gripping your thigh, his cock in your throat. It was so much your body was shaking with pleasure as you attempted you keep your body up.

As your pleasure was subsiding you could taste the cum in your mouth, you swallowed it. At some point Joby had came too. You both laid still panting as you attempted to steady your breathy. Everything felt hazy. There was a light pat against your ass as Joby’s raspy voice spoke “Alright time to get off, sweetheart.”

Joby altered between lapping at your clit gently to sucking it between his lips. Tears and saliva were running down your face as he fucked your throat while you moaned and chocked around him. You could tell he was close as his grip tightened on your thigh and his cock twitched in your mouth. Moaning in anticipation, wanting him to come on your tongue.

His tongue and fingers worked faster against you wanting to bring you to the the edge with him. At this point he was just rubbing his face into it covering his face in you. It was causing the knot it your stomach to tighten until it bursted. Light filling your eyes as you convulsed above him, every muscle tightening, and then relaxing.

You laid together under the white sheets, body light and tingly, the cheap motel mattress felt like a cloud beneath you as you drifted away absorbed in the afterglow of pleasure. The strong smell of smoke filled the air. As you turned you saw Joby bring a burning cigarette to his glistening lips, inhaling.

As he blew out the smoke he looked towards you “Want some?” Usually you didn't smoke but this felt like a good time to. He brought the cigarette to your lips and held it for you as you breathed in the smoke. It tasted bad and burned as it went down but you didn't mind.

Joby watched mesmerized as you inhaled and laughed as you coughed after. Brining it back to his own lips once again. “After I finish this do you wanna fuck for real?”

Masterlist

I hope you lovelies enjoyed it!! This is like my second time writing NSFW so hopefully it is good, thank you for reading 😊

#joby taylor #joby taylor x reader #joby taylor imagine #joby taylor smut #For Ellen #paul dano #paul dano imagine #paul dano x reader #paul dano character #My writing

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peterparkersnose · 2 years

Text

Klitz headcanons (The Girl Next Door)

his favorite chips are fritos

he prefers cats over dogs

he has always had particular interest in the nudist lifestyle

he does face masks with his mom every sunday night

he enjoys watching the oprah show after school to calm his mood

he hasn’t gone to a hair salon since he was six. his grandmother cuts his hair every two months on the third friday afternoon.

he prefers eli as a friend over matt, but loves them both so much that he would never tell anyone that

he used to have a cat named sprinkles as a child, but his overweight uncle sat on her

his celebrity crush is julia roberts

his secret pleasure movie is ten things i hate about you

he prefers reading porn rather than watching it

when he was 8 his mother bought hotdogs from costco and klitz received his first boner after smelling the steam from them cooking

his favorite politician was stuart starky, but after he lost to john mccain he lost interest in politics

he fuckin loves backstreet boys

he has seasonal lactose intolerance

the first time he got drunk he pissed in his neighbors flowerbed, killing all her flowers

he cut his balls the first time he shaved them

he enjoys the scent of lavender

his favorite drink is diet dr pepper

he once sliced his finger open playing with his mothers razor in the shower as a child and still has a scar from it

he takes baths twice a week to really get in all the crevices

he just had to throw his emotional support blanket away from when he was a child

his favorite holiday is halloween

and he prefers the summer over the winter

he got kicked by a horse at the state capitol when he was 6

tag list: @beenz-beenz @nikonluvsdano @fikism @liveforkarljacobs @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @samanthacookieone @maddieinnit0

#klitz #klitz the girl next door fanfiction #klitz fan fiction #klitz one shot #klitz x female reader #klitz imagine #klitz x reader #klitz headcanon #paul dano #klitz the girl next door #klitz paul dano #the girl next door 2004 #the riddler #dwayne hoover #eli sunday #calvin weir fields #jay okja #joby taylor #peterparkersnosework

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therealbattleangel · 2 years

Text

The CD Shop - Joby Taylor x GN!Reader

TW: None, just pure fluff. Also, I made Joby a bit nicer in this fanfic than he is in the movie because that is what I want to write

(Requests Open!)

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It was just like any other day for Y/N or at least, that was how it started. They arrived at work just in time, turning the sign to say “OPEN.” They reorganized a few CD’s to waste time before sitting behind the counter. The day went by slowly with the same old, same old. A group of teenagers here, a clueless elderly there. And so when they heard the bell go off, meaning somebody came in, they didn’t look up from the sketchbook. After a while, a stack of CD’s were placed in front of them. They looked up at the man who put down the CD’s were placed in front of them. They looked up at the man who put down the stack and widened their eyes. The man in front of them was a very handsome one. It was obvious that he was no teenager but rather, he was a man. He had black painted nails, some chipped. He had greasy, mid length hair and the smallest goatee.

They shook themselves out of their thoughts before going and scanning each of the CD’s. They then hummed when they arrived at a CD of their favorite album “I love this album,” they said, causing Joby to look up. “You know them?” They nodded “yes. I love them. And I am not just staying that to get a good sale out of you either” they said, causing Joby to chuckle “I trust you” he said before they both fell back into silence. Y/N then looked down at Joby’s nails, noticing the chips. “Do you play an instrument?” they asked as they continued to scan. He shook his head. “Ah, well, not really. My bandmates are the ones that play the instruments” They smiled “Oh, you’re in a band? That’s awesome. What’s your band’s name?” He simply shook his head once more “It’s not awesome, I promise. In all honesty, I think we are shit” they then bit their lip “oh, I’m sorry… But I am sure that you guys are great. Anyways, your total today will be $25.58” they said as they looked up at Joby. “That is very kind of you. And here” he said as he wanted Y/N the money to pay for his order. Y/N took it before grabbing a bag

“What genre would you say your band fits into?” they asked as they began putting the CD’s into the bag. Joby smiled “you are persistent, aren’t you? I guess I would say heavy metal” he said as Y/N smiled “I am very persistent. How about this: you tell me the next time your band performs and I will come and watch you guys perform. Then I will tell you if you are any good. I feel like that is fair” Joby laughed at their suggestion before shrugging “sure. As long as I can get something in return” he said as he grabbed his bag “Oh? And what would that be?” they asked. “Your name. And number” Joby said before Y/N smiled, ripping a piece of one of their sketchbooks paper, writing their name and number down on it before handing it to Joby. He then read the paper before saying “Y/N. That… Is a great name” he then smiled. “And what is your name, band boy?” Y/N asked, resting their head on their palm. “As much as I like that nickname, my name is Joby. Joby Taylor. My band plays next Friday, at the theater downtown. Um… See you there?” Y/N nodded “yeah. I’ll see you there. Have a good day” they said with a smile, watching Joby leave. Y/N was in a good mood for the rest of the day, feeling as light as a feather. They couldn’t wait until next Friday.

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A/N: Hope you enjoyed this! I feel like Joby doesn’t get the attention he deserves so I wrote this. I personally find rocker dilfs very attractive but whatever. Also, again, he is nice in this because I feel like he should be. I feel like he deserves to be happy

#paul dano #paul dano fanfic #paul dano imagines #paul dano x reader #joby taylor #joby taylor x reader #joby taylor imagines #for ellen

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all-my-books · 6 years

Text

2017 Reading

262 books read. 60% of new reads Non-fiction, authors from 55 unique countries, 35% of authors read from countries other than USA, UK, Canada, and Australia. Asterisks denote re-reads, bolds are favorites. January: The Deeds of the Disturber – Elizabeth Peters The Wiregrass – Pam Webber Homegoing – Yaa Gyasi It Didn't Start With You – Mark Wolynn Facing the Lion – Joseph Lemasolai Lekuton Before We Visit the Goddess – Chitra Divakaruni Colored People – Henry Louis Gates Jr. My Khyber Marriage – Morag Murray Abdullah Miss Bianca in the Salt Mines – Margery Sharp Farewell to the East End – Jennifer Worth Fire and Air – Erik Vlaminck My Grandfather Would Have Shot Me – Jennifer Teege Catherine the Great – Robert K Massie My Mother's Sabbath Days – Chaim Grade Not the Israel My Parents Promised Me – Harvey Pekar, JT Waldman The Readers of Broken Wheel Recommend – Katarina Bivald Stammered Songbook – Erwin Mortier Savushun – Simin Daneshvar The Prophet – Kahlil Gibran Beyond the Walls – Nazim Hikmet The Dressmaker of Khair Khana – Gayle Tzemach Lemmon A Day No Pigs Would Die – Robert Newton Peck *

February: Bone Black – bell hooks Special Exits – Joyce Farmer Reading Like a Writer – Francine Prose Bright Dead Things – Ada Limon Middlemarch – George Eliot Confessions of an English Opium Eater – Thomas de Quincey Medusa's Gaze – Marina Belozerskaya Child of the Prophecy – Juliet Marillier * The File on H – Ismail Kadare The Motorcycle Diaries – Ernesto Che Guevara Passing – Nella Larsen Whose Body? - Dorothy L. Sayers The Spiral Staircase – Karen Armstrong Station Eleven – Emily St. John Mandel Reading Lolita in Tehran – Azar Nafisi Defiance – Nechama Tec

March: Yes, Chef – Marcus Samuelsson Discontent and its Civilizations – Mohsin Hamid The Gulag Archipelago Vol. 1 – Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn Patience and Sarah – Isabel Miller Dying Light in Corduba – Lindsey Davis * Five Days at Memorial – Sheri Fink A Man Called Ove – Fredrik Backman * The Shia Revival – Vali Nasr Girt – David Hunt Half Magic – Edward Eager * Dreams of Joy – Lisa See * Too Pretty to Live – Dennis Brooks West with the Night – Beryl Markham Little Fuzzy – H. Beam Piper *

April: Defying Hitler – Sebastian Haffner Monsters in Appalachia – Sheryl Monks Sorcerer to the Crown – Zen Cho The Man Without a Face – Masha Gessen Peace is Every Step – Thich Nhat Hanh Flory – Flory van Beek Why Soccer Matters – Pele The Zhivago Affair – Peter Finn, Petra Couvee The Stories of Breece D'J Pancake – Breece Pancake The Hundred-Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out the Window and Disappeared – Jonas Jonasson Chasing Utopia – Nikki Giovanni The Invisible Bridge – Julie Orringer * Young Adults – Daniel Pinkwater Jonathan Swift: The Reluctant Rebel – John Stubbs Black Gun, Silver Star – Art T. Burton The Arab of the Future 2 – Riad Sattouf Hole in the Heart – Henny Beaumont MASH – Richard Hooker Forgotten Ally – Rana Mitter Zorro – Isabel Allende Flying Couch – Amy Kurzweil

May: The Bite of the Mango – Mariatu Kamara Mystic and Rider – Sharon Shinn * Freedom is a Constant Struggle – Angela Davis Capture – David A. Kessler Poor Cow – Nell Dunn My Father's Dragon – Ruth Stiles Gannett * Elmer and the Dragon – Ruth Stiles Gannett * The Dragons of Blueland – Ruth Stiles Gannett * Hetty Feather – Jacqueline Wilson In the Shadow of the Banyan – Vaddey Ratner The Last Camel Died at Noon – Elizabeth Peters Cannibalism – Bill Schutt The Handmaid's Tale – Margaret Atwood A Fine Balance – Rohinton Mistry The Food of a Younger Land – Mark Kurlansky Behold the Dreamers – Imbolo Mbue Words on the Move – John McWhorter John Ransom's Diary: Andersonville – John Ransom Such a Lovely Little War – Marcelino Truong Child of All Nations – Irmgard Keun One Child – Mei Fong Country of Red Azaleas – Domnica Radulescu Between Two Worlds – Zainab Salbi Malinche – Julia Esquivel A Lucky Child – Thomas Buergenthal The Drackenberg Adventure – Lloyd Alexander Say You're One of Them – Uwem Akpan William Wells Brown – Ezra Greenspan

June: Partners In Crime – Agatha Christie The Chinese in America – Iris Chang The Great Escape – Kati Marton As Texas Goes... – Gail Collins Pavilion of Women – Pearl S. Buck Classic Chinese Stories – Lu Xun The Return of the Soldier – Rebecca West The Slave Across the Street – Theresa Flores Miss Bianca in the Orient – Margery Sharp Boy Erased – Garrard Conley How to Be a Dictator – Mikal Hem A Thousand Splendid Suns – Khaled Hosseini Tears of the Desert – Halima Bashir The Death and Life of Great American Cities – Jane Jacobs The First Salute – Barbara Tuchman Come as You Are – Emily Nagoski The Want-Ad Killer – Ann Rule The Gulag Archipelago Vol 2 – Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn

July: Dorothy and the Wizard in Oz – L. Frank Baum * The Blazing World – Margaret Cavendish Madonna in a Fur Coat – Sabahattin Ali Duende – tracy k. smith The ACB With Honora Lee – Kate de Goldi Mountains of the Pharaohs – Zahi Hawass Anna Karenina – Leo Tolstoy Chronicle of a Last Summer – Yasmine el Rashidi Killers of the Flower Moon – David Grann Mister Monday – Garth Nix * Leaving Yuba City – Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni The Silk Roads – Peter Frankopan The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy – Douglas Adams A Corner of White – Jaclyn Moriarty * Circling the Sun – Paula McLain Lies and the Lying Liars Who Tell Them – Al Franken Believe Me – Eddie Izzard The Cracks in the Kingdom – Jaclyn Moriarty * Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe – Fannie Flagg * One Hundred and One Days – Asne Seierstad Grim Tuesday – Garth Nix * The Vanishing Velasquez – Laura Cumming Four Against the Arctic – David Roberts The Marriage Bureau – Penrose Halson The Jesuit and the Skull – Amir D Aczel Drowned Wednesday – Garth Nix * Roots, Radicals, and Rockers – Billy Bragg A Tangle of Gold – Jaclyn Moriarty * Lydia, Queen of Palestine – Uri Orlev *

August: Sir Thursday – Garth Nix * The Hoboken Chicken Emergency – Daniel Pinkwater * Lady Friday – Garth Nix * Freddy and the Perilous Adventure – Walter R. Brooks * Venice – Jan Morris China's Long March – Jean Fritz Trials of the Earth – Mary Mann Hamilton The Bully Pulpit – Doris Kearns Goodwin Final Exit – Derek Humphry The Book of Emma Reyes – Emma Reyes Freddy the Politician – Walter R. Brooks * Dragonflight – Anne McCaffrey * What the Witch Left – Ruth Chew All Passion Spent – Vita Sackville-West The Picture of Dorian Gray – Oscar Wilde The Curse of the Blue Figurine – John Bellairs * When They Severed Earth From Sky – Elizabeth Wayland Barber Superior Saturday – Garth Nix * The Boston Girl – Anita Diamant The Mummy, The Will, and the Crypt – John Bellairs * Are We Smart Enough to Know How Smart Animals Are? - Frans de Waal The Philadelphia Adventure – Lloyd Alexander * Lord Sunday – Garth Nix * The Spell of the Sorcerer's Skull – John Bellairs * Five Little Pigs – Agatha Christie * Love in Vain – JM Dupont, Mezzo A Little History of the World – EH Gombrich Last Things – Marissa Moss Imagine Wanting Only This – Kristen Radtke Dinosaur Empire – Abby Howard The Amazing Maurice and his Educated Rodents – Terry Pratchett *

September: First Bite by Bee Wilson The Xanadu Adventure by Lloyd Alexander Orientalism – Edward Said The Lost Crown of Genghis Khan – Carl Barks The Island on Bird Street – Uri Orlev * The Indifferent Stars Above – Daniel James Brown Beneath the Lion's Gaze – Maaza Mengiste The Importance of Being Earnest – Oscar Wilde * The Book of Five Rings – Miyamoto Musashi The Drunken Botanist – Amy Stewart The Turtle of Oman – Naomi Shahib Nye The Alleluia Files – Sharon Shinn * Gut Feelings – Gerd Gigerenzer The Secret of Hondorica – Carl Barks Don't Let's Go to the Dogs Tonight – Alexandra Fuller The Abominable Mr. Seabrook – Joe Ollmann Black Flags – Joby Warrick

October: Fear – Thich Nhat Hanh Fall Down 7 Times Get Up 8 – Naoki Higashida To the Bright Edge of the World – Eowyn Ivey Why? - Mario Livio Just One Damned Thing After Another – Jodi Taylor The Yellow Wallpaper – Charlotte Perkins Gilman Blindness – Jose Saramago The Book Thieves – Anders Rydell Reality is not What it Seems – Carlo Rovelli Cranford – Elizabeth Gaskell * The Witch Family – Eleanor Estes * Sister Mine – Nalo Hopkinson La Vagabonde – Colette Becoming Nicole – Amy Ellis Nutt

November: The Golden Notebook – Doris Lessing The Children's Book – A.S. Byatt The Fire Next Time – James Baldwin Under the Udala Trees – Chinelo Okparanta Who Killed These Girls? – Beverly Lowry Running for my Life – Lopez Lmong Radium Girls – Kate Moore News of the World – Paulette Jiles The Red Pony – John Steinbeck The Edible History of Humanity – Tom Standage A Woman in Arabia – Gertrude Bell and Georgina Howell Founding Gardeners – Andrea Wulf Anatomy of a Disapperance – Hisham Matar The Book of Night Women – Marlon James Ground Zero – Kevin J. Anderson * Acorna – Anne McCaffrey and Margaret Ball * A Girl Named Zippy – Haven Kimmel * The Age of the Vikings – Anders Winroth The Spanish Civil War: A Very Short Introduction – Helen Graham A General History of the Pyrates – Captain Charles Johnson (suspected Nathaniel Mist) Clouds of Witness – Dorothy L. Sayers * The Lonely City – Olivia Laing No Time for Tears – Judy Heath

December: The Unwomanly Face of War – Svetlana Alexievich Gay-Neck - Dhan Gopal Mukerji The Tea Girl of Hummingbird Lane – Lisa See Get Well Soon – Jennifer Wright The Testament of Mary – Colm Toibin The Roman Way – Edith Hamilton Understood Betsy – Dorothy Canfield Fisher * The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse - Vicente Blasco Ibanez Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH – Robert C. O'Brien SPQR – Mary Beard Ballet Shoes – Noel Streatfeild * Hogfather – Terry Pratchett * The Sorrow of War – Bao Ninh Drowned Hopes – Donald E. Westlake * Selected Essays – Michel de Montaigne Vietnam – Stanley Karnow The Snake, The Crocodile, and the Dog – Elizabeth Peters Guests of the Sheik – Elizabetha Warnok Fernea Stone Butch Blues – Leslie Feinberg Wicked Plants – Amy Stewart Life in a Medieval City – Joseph and Frances Gies Under the Sea Wind – Rachel Carson The Red Virgin and the Vision of Utopia – Mary and Brian Talbot Brat Farrar – Josephine Tey * The Treasure of the Ten Avatars – Don Rosa Escape From Forbidden Valley – Don Rosa Nightwood – Djuna Barnes Here Comes the Sun – Nicole Dennis-Benn Over My Dead Body – Rex Stout *

#books #reading #2017

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always-andromeda · 2 years

Text

ii. sound of a love song | Joby Taylor x fem!Reader

Joby Taylor x fem!Reader

Word Count | 3,838

Summary | In the safety and comfort of you apartment, Joby strips down in a way that he couldn’t have imagined.

Author’s Note | sO, I've finished outlining this monster of a fic and it’s coming out to about fifteen chapters??? I’m hoping to put out chapters at a little bit of a faster rate because I am really vibing and grooving with this story. hope y’all enjoy it as much I’m enjoying writing it, lol.

Warnings | a pinch of angst, please let me know if I need to add anything else!

When you unlocked your front door, he didn’t know what he was expecting. He certainly wasn’t expecting a big black Labrador to come bounding to your feet, obviously excited to see you. Around the labs neck was a pastel pink collar that sparkled under the door light you'd flicked on. The metal tag jangled as the dog danced around, nails sliding on the tile.

“Ohhh, Angel, come here!” You cooed. The dogs tongue lolled at the attention you were giving, before her eyes fell on him behind you in the doorway. Her ears flopped forward as she tilted her head slightly. Joby didn’t have much experience with animals. He had some rats when he was a teenager but they’d long since died. Dogs were totally out of his realm. They got hair and drool everywhere and that could ruin his leather. But Angel was far too excited to see someone new. She pushed past you and hopped up onto Joby, the exuberant force almost knocking him back. Chuckling nervously, he tried not to let your dog's paws touch his leather jacket and failed as she eagerly sniffed and licked at him.

“Not much of a dog person, are you?” You said over your shoulder, already going further into the darkness of your apartment.

“Oh, I love dogs. Totally.” With your back turned, he pushed the dog's paws off but that only solidified her commitment to playing with your new guest. Frantically mouthing no, no, no,

He heard you sigh and you shook your head, “You really are such a terrible liar.”

Shit. He stopped, resigning to leaning nonchalantly against the wall leading into your kitchen. How could you tell? Had he always been this hopelessly transparent or were you simply really good at reading him? It was probably the former. Any apprehension he had at his misstep faded as soon as he saw you smile wide. He couldn’t remember having seen you smile like that at the bar. It was so bright with something close to a laugh attached at the end. No, before, you had been moody and angelic. You had been performing. Now you were real.

“If you keep lying to me like that, I might have to do something about it.” You threatened before turning your gaze down to your dog, “Angel, down. We don’t want to scare him away now.” You voice was sweet but stern. And part of him wanted you to talk to him like that. Really? You want to be talked to like you’re her dog? You’re a fucking joke.

The dog jumped down from him, letting out a soft whine before settling on the floor with a tired huff.

“You’ll have to do something about it? What would you do to me exactly?” He cocked his head and raised his eyebrows suggestively. He was drunk as shit and wobbly on his feet but damn if he didn’t try to turn on a little bit of charm. It was only because he was a massive idiot that he was here, but he was still grateful. He could at least return the favor by being an entertaining guest.

You watched him pose sensually, hand rested on his hip and knees swaying like trees in the wind. It was ridiculously endearing how bad he was trying, “I’ll wash your lying mouth out with soap.”

He scoffed, “What are you, my mommy?” The way his tongue poked out slightly between his teeth like you were his next meal made your stomach lurch.

Even with the genuine desire rising inside, you settled on a shy, “You wish.” You’d heard from others in the industry that Joby Taylor could be a…handful…to say in the least. You’d also heard about his whole formula for taking people to bed. He would poke and prod until the tension was so unbearable that whoever was with him just had to go home with him. He liked getting under people’s skin and daring them to pluck him out, knowing full well that as unsavory as his type was, they would ultimately give into the sin.

You had set your keys and purse down on your kitchen counter and went to brew yourself a mug of tea. On cold nights like this one, you loved a good mug of green tea with lemon and honey to soothe your vocal chords after a long day. Without really thinking about it, you pulled out a mug for Joby to make him some as well. Leaving the water to boil, you went back to your bedroom to change into pajamas.

Despite the heater in your apartment finally working, you were still freezing in that dress and couldn’t wait for the comfort of some longer sleeves and sweatpants. You lazily wiped your heavy makeup away with a wipe, not quite getting all the mascara but not really caring. You couldn’t help but think of him. Just sitting in your living room. He’d laid on your couch as you passed by to go to your room. Letting his head hang back on the armrest, he groaned. As wasted as he was, he was handsome, sprawled out on your couch like that with his arms thrown behind his head, sprawled out like he was still making himself available for the taking.

It had been a long time since you’d brought a man back to your apartment. You knew he was just there to sleep off his rough night, but it made you very aware of yourself. You weren’t used to being seen this way by most people. All you’d needed for a while was that floaty, almost uncaring attitude that convinced the men around you that you were an enigma. Those interactions never amounted to anything like this.

You figured the only way you could fight off your nerves was to match his smug demeanor. He had been teasing you. You couldn’t believe there was anything special about it, knowing he’d probably turned it on for dozens of people before you. You’d play the game but he certainly wasn’t winning it.

As you closed your bedroom door, you forced the thought from your mind. He wasn’t really into you at all, you decided, just drunk. Getting back to your kitchen, you poured the now boiling water from your kettle into the mugs and stirred in the lemon juice and honey. You grabbed both mugs and started towards your living room couch. As you came around to where he was now sat, you saw Angel was laying her head on Joby’s leg. Compressed against the bottom of the couch and still working in some curious sniffs to his jeans, she was fixed intently on him. His eyes were clenched shut so he didn’t notice the little black hairs, already starting to shed on his jeans.

Standing in front of him, you cleared your throat. When Joby opened an eye and saw you holding out the mug, he was once again dumbstruck that you’d even bothered to care. Carefully he took the mug and its heat spread to his palms. The drink brought a warmth that permeated his being better than his usual scotch or bourbon. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a good old drink of water, actually, let alone something this calming.

Your body was exhausted, no doubt, but your head desired some sort of stimulation. You wanted to keep talking to him, to continue the playful tone you two had established. It wasn’t often that you got to develop a good friendship like this.

“So, what brought you to Magnolia tonight?” You tried. The whole week before you’d been performing at that bar and you hadn’t seen him once. He must have just gotten to town.

“Heard that a pretty girl was singing tonight so I thought I’d stop by to…appreciate the scenery.” He joked and smirked through another sip of tea.

After your soft laughter had sunk in, he found couldn’t keep himself together in front of you. He took a sharp breath and set his mug down before answering seriously, “Because I’m fucked. I’m so fucked, y/n.”

“Well, yeah, getting kicked out of a band sucks but you’ll bounce back. If you could just rebuild some bridges I’m sure you cou-”

He interrupted you, “It’s not just about the band. It’s shitty but it’s the least of my problems right now.”

“Then what is the problem?” The question cut through him like none of the advances before had.

He looked at you this time. The cogs turned in his head, trying to figure out if you would think any less of him if he told you everything. He could trust you, right? You didn’t seem the type that would tell him to just man up and get over it. You’d looked out for him so far. But was that enough to open the floodgates? Was that how starved he was for some sort of real attention? The sympathy spreading across your face was encouraging him to spill his guts. You were so nice to him, so understanding. He didn’t even know where to start.

“I lost custody of my daughter.”

Your mind went racing. You figured he had to have gotten someone pregnant at some point with how he got around. But you didn’t think he’d be the type to have a child that he could care enough for to be so broken up about losing them. You put your hand over his, rubbing at his knuckles with your thumb. Not wanting to say anything and risk losing the moment.

He continued, “Her name was Claire. I got her pregnant when we were young. Her parents wanted us to get married so we did. When I started Snake Trouble we were playing shows around the state, trying to make it big. Claire had her while I was away. She wouldn’t let me see her anyways. So I stopped coming around as much.” His eyes were misty, remembering Claire. He’d loved her once, he was sure of that. They’d gone to parties together and she’d always be at the front when he was playing shows at run down clubs. She could be rowdy and loud and it was all perfect for him.

But when she got pregnant…she changed. She dulled. Became more contemplative. Always watching him with those piercing eyes and judging every selfish decision he made. It got fucking irritating having her disapproving looks aimed at him. He couldn’t have asked for a better escape once his bandmates started talking about going to LA.

“What’s your daughter’s name?” You asked softly.

He could feel the moisture beginning to well up in his eyes as he answered, “Ellen.” He tried to laugh off the tears that were already falling. It was all so stupid. He was making such a fool out of himself. You fucking pussy. You’re fucking crying on her couch. Great. If she didn’t think you were a baby before, she sure does now.

But you just pulled him closer to you and let him get out every emotion that he’d held back. You had your arm anchored around his shoulders. His pounding forehead pressed against your soft cheek. The tears started to fall on your shirt and you stayed still.

“Ellen is a pretty name.” You said. “She must be a pretty good kid.”

“Yeah. She’s the greatest.” He sniffed and wiped his bottom lashline with his knuckles before his face could get all puffy. Then his eyes met yours, filled with warmth. It struck him that you didn’t pity him. Your hand had made its way to his hair, delicate fingers running through it. The action sent shivers down his spine. You were so beautiful and so good to him. He didn’t deserve it. But he wanted to know you. In every way possible.

Before he knew it he was leaning in, satiating the hunger he’d felt ever since he’d seen you on that stage. Eyelids fluttering shut and lips latching onto you, there was no going back. He sucked and nipped on a spot high on the side of your neck where he knew it would leave a very visible mark. Tomorrow morning you’d be right beside him, all marked up and nestled against his chest. At least he’d have something to show for the night.

The broken sounds you let out were almost involuntary. You let your head fall back when his deft fingers traveled underneath your shirt, squeezing into your soft sides and wandering their way up further and further. Even drunk, his touch was skilled, as if he’d already determined how to unravel you as quickly as possible. And you would’ve let him continue if a single thought hadn’t run through your head: William.

“Joby,” you gasped his name. He wanted you to keep saying his name over and over. And when you did, it only made him hum with appreciation into your skin. Until he heard another word.

“Joby, stop.” You pushed him away and suddenly you were moving back, keeping him at an arm's length.

“Joby, I have a boyfriend. That guy who was on guitar tonight…he’s my boyfriend. His name is William. He’s a great guy, I really think you should meet him. He knows some people who could help you get back into a studio.” Your mouth was running a mile a minute, hoping your words would snuff out the remaining sparks from what had just happened between you two.

Suddenly yanked from the fantasy he’d already resigned to drowning in, Joby shook his head and squinted. You couldn’t have possibly just said what he thought he heard. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

You held your hands up to placate him. “Listen, you don’t want to do this. You’re drunk and you’re sad and that’s not a good combination for a hook up. I know you didn’t mean it so we can just forget about it. And tomorrow I can set up something with William and you two can-”

His attitude flipped abruptly. “A fucking hook up? Y-Y-You thought we were gonna hook up?” With his brows furrowing and expression turning angry, his entire body tensed.

To say that Joby Taylor couldn’t handle rejection was an understatement. His hands started to shake. That fucking prick at the bar really had been your boyfriend. He had poured his heart out and you were going to sit there and reject him? You had the audacity to suggest he go running to your boyfriend for help fixing his career? After you had taken him to your home and held his hand and looked at him with those glossy eyes and moaned his name? The way you’d moaned his name so easily and out of breath… You fucking idiot. Why the fuck would you do that? Why the fuck would she even want you?

“You were kissing me. What else would that have led to?” You raised an eyebrow at him. Your face was heating up, the anger beginning to bubble and spit but you made an effort to keep your voice calm. You didn’t need a noise complaint on your hands.

“You’re fucking delusional if you think I’m gonna take any help from that asshole you call a boyfriend. Who said I even needed either of you anyways? I-I-I-I’m Joby…fucking…Taylor!” He was close to yelling now and his glare was dark. Your dog let out a few aggressive barks, hearing how dramatically the atmosphere had changed. She bared her teeth and gave a low growl, warning him to not even try coming closer to you. You placed a gentle hand on the back of her head and petted her until she calmed down.

With your eyes fixed on a corner of the room, just past his head and your voice coming out quavering you said, “Well, Joby fucking Taylor, get the fuck out of my house.”

“Are you kidding me? It’s fucking cold outside. I’d have no where else to go, you can’t fucking do that to me.”

“Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you made an ass out of yourself. Get the fuck out of here, Joby, or I swear to God, I will call someone and they’ll make you get the fuck out.”

Wordlessly, he raised himself from the couch. His boots stomped on the kitchen tiles as he stormed to the front door. Then he was gone, slamming the door as he left.

The temperature had only gotten worse in the time he’d spent in your apartment. Snow was falling and the wind blew wildly. With no car, a dead phone, and no real idea where he was, he was going to freeze to death outside of your apartment. You were going to wake up tomorrow and find the corpse of Joby fucking Taylor on your doorstep and it was all his fault.

Why did you do that, you dipshit? She brought your ass into her home. She made you tea. She was gonna make that stupid boyfriend help you. But she wouldn’t fuck you so you had to throw a fit. This is why everyone leaves. You’re a fucking joke.

It was the boyfriend that had messed with his thoughts so much. You said he could help him? After all these years of working his ass off, there you were, a desert mirage handing him his dream on a platter. He rubbed at his face, attempting to put together the pieces of his night and scanning them for an image of the guy playing with you. He had mostly been paying attention to you and your swinging hips. He vaguely remembered thick, dorky glasses. Long blonde hair pulled back into a slick ponytail. A black turtleneck and unwrinkled slacks. A guy who looked just as put together and perfect as you. Of course you’d want to stay loyal to a guy like that. Why would you sacrifice something that good for a one night stand with a washed up loser like him?

The chill was making a home in him. And as of right now, Joby Taylor didn’t want to die. He was about to make even more of a fool out of himself. He turned and knocked at your door.

“Y/n…I’m sorry…please let me back in. It’s fucking cold out here.”

His voice was muffled by the door and the howling wind but you still heard him. You stood on the other side of the door, already considering letting him back in. You were just…upset. The way he blew up so quickly scared you. That was another thing you’d heard others whisper about. He had an anger issue and relied a lot on gaslighting and projecting his own issues to get what he wanted. It was childish behavior that made you want to scream at him. But you didn’t want him to freeze out there.

For those few minutes that you were just talking, it was good. You could see him being your friend. You wanted him to do well. You still remembered the first time you ever saw him perform. Back before he was fixated on being “Joby fucking Taylor.” He was just a guy at the microphone trying to put on a show. And it meant everything to you. Was that enough, though?

You turned the doorknob. His head hung low in front of you. He ran a hand through his hair before looking up, shame painted over his features. His nose was bright red from the cold and snowflakes clung to his dark lashes.

“I’m sorry. I fucked up.” He muttered with a defeated sigh.

“Yeah, you really did.” Your grip stayed firm on the edge of the door, your body being the only barrier between himself and the salvation of your apartment.

“I just…I’m not used to all of this. I’m sorry.” He repeated it. He couldn’t handle how hard it was to say those words. He wanted to feel humiliated for the way he yielded but he knew he owed you every apology he could muster.

He hadn’t missed the fear that fell upon you when he’d yelled. Couldn’t ignore how you’d flinched when he waved his arms. How your dog had immediately come to your rescue. How your hands shook while stroking her fur. Fuck, he never wanted to do that to you again if you ever let him back in. And with the way the night was biting at every bit of his now numb skin, he was willing to do anything. Thankfully, you stepped behind the door and he shuffled in. Angel stayed by your side, not thrilled to see him anymore.

“I think we’ve both had quite the night. I’ll get you some blankets. And then I’m going to bed.” You wouldn’t look at him now. He’d be lying to say it didn’t break his heart just a little.

He couldn’t stop replaying that moment as he laid on your couch once again. You’d shoved three plaid blankets into his arms before retreating to your room. He wasn’t sure if you’d meant to but you’d locked Angel out of your room. She still had that weary expression like she was just waiting for him to fly off the handle again.

He called her name softly. To his surprise, she drifted back to him. He didn’t know how to apologize to a dog. The best he could offer was a good scratch behind her ears. Watching her face screw up in satisfaction, he was pleased that she seemed to hold no grudge against him.

In your room, you laid in bed, staring at the ceiling. Why had you gotten yourself into this mess? You knew well enough to lower your expectations, especially when it came to men in your industry. You couldn’t idealize anyone, even if you had listened to them for years and practically worshiped the ground they walked on. Everyone was fucked up in some way. But Joby was exceptionally fucked up. To let him back in was asking for trouble. You reached down, looking for the comfort of your best friend, expression twisting to concern when you couldn’t find the black Labrador lying beside you.

You had been so distracted that you’d forgotten her. So you rose and opened your door once more. Creeping down the short hallway, you figured Joby had probably passed out already.

But instead you found him barely awake, flat on his back, and head propped up with a throw pillow. From the darkness of the hall, you saw Angel tucked between his long legs, head resting on his stomach. A blanket was thrown over her relaxed figure. He was scratching behind her ears and whispering to her.

“It’s not gonna happen again. I promise.” He muttered the last part over and over, deliriously exhausted.

You pursed your lips. Dogs have a good sense of people, right? They could sense certain vibrations from people. If Angel could forgive him, maybe he wasn’t as much trouble as you thought he was.

#danonation #paul dano #joby taylor x reader #joby taylor #for ellen #˚ʚ meda writes ɞ˚

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