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monster-disaster · 11 months

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[goblin] Rust

goblin!Rust x human!Reader Good to know: public sex, freeuse

Summary: You work in a bar where the rules are slightly different from the outside world.

The bar is calm. The lights from the bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling are dim, casting a warm glow across the place. Quiet music plays in the background. The singer's voice is deep and hoarse. You can barely hear it because of the sound of the bottles as your co-worker fills up the shelves behind you while you are busy swiping down the counter with a wet rag. All around, the air is filled with the quiet murmur of conversations. The clinking of glasses and the occasional burst of laughters echo off the walls. They are decorated with posters and faded photographs. The wide windows are darkened with the name and logo of the bar. The tables and chairs all around the place were crafted decades ago. They are still sturdy and marked with the memory of the countless drinks poured and the many fights that escalated over the years.

"They are here," the vampire behind you hums, glancing over her shoulder to the window. You can see the motorbikes parking down in a long row. The rumbling of the engines shakes the walls and goes straight to your core. "I can hear it," you reply, watching to door burst open with a loud thud.

Soon, the bar is full of bikers, taking their places all over the room as usual. They are loud and dominating. It's nothing you are not used to. You've worked at the bar for a few years. You know most of the patrons since Grimbrook is usually not a place for tourists. Especially not the bar with all kinds of monsters and humans.

Your next hour is busy with taking care of everything. The smell of alcohol and cheap beer is heavy and thick in the air, mixing with smoke. You can't hear the music anymore through the crowd's constant noise. Laughs and shouts boom every now and again from various tables. The boots thud heavily on the wooden floor.

"There is my favorite girl," the goblin greets you from one of the booths next to the walls. His smile is barely noticeable under his crooked nose. His green skin seems a bit more yellowish under the hue of the lights. The black leather jacket he always wears is over the backrest, leaving him in a black t-shirt and jeans. "Hey, Rust," you greet the male. "How's your night?" "It's better now that you are here," he hums, slipping his hand on your hip. His fingers grope your flesh, letting his nails dig into the fabric of your black skirt. "Really?" You laugh, stepping away from his hold as you put the empty bottles and glasses on the tray in your other hand. "I'm busy." "Well, you wouldn't be if Eva would do her job," Rust replies with a hungry smirk on his thin lips. Following his gaze, you see your co-worker on an orc's lap. The male is big and sturdy. His large hands are on your friend's hips, keeping Eva on his lap as she drinks from his neck. They grind to each other the whole time. "Oh, I think she is doing her job just fine," you laugh. Rust's hand is on you again. "And you?" His thumb grazes your nipple through the fabric of your shirt and bra. "I'm doing it, too," you reply. "Just not the fun part." "Don't make me wait for too long," he shouts after you when you leave their table.

You can feel wetness already pooling between your legs, ruining your panties. Heat lits up in your belly, and you have to force yourself to leave the goblin with his friends and continue your job.

"Are you done?" You smirk under your breath when the vampire female appears next to you. Her usually pale complexion seems much healthier. There is a slight hint of pink on her cheeks, and her lips are red and swollen. "With the orc?" She asks. "Yes. For the night? No." You laugh at her reply while serving the monsters around the counter. Your nose is full of the smell of the various drinks. "Oh," Eva continues. "Rust wants to see you." A knowing smile tugs on the corner of her lips. "I-" "Don't worry," she adds before you can say anything. "I will take care of everything while you are busy." "Like last week?" "Oh, shush."

Leaving the vampire at the counter, you make your way to the booth where Rust is still sitting with a half-orc and a demon. They are talking. The half-orc laughs at something. His head tilts back, and the golden loop around his tusk glint in the light. His voice is hoarse but booming.

Without saying anything, Rust pulls up your skirt until it's around your waist, and anybody can see your matching panties covering your mound. His nails graze the sensitive skin of your inner thigh as he tugs you closer to him until you are sitting on his lap. His body and the desk in front of you barely give you enough space, and you have to spread your legs not to kick Rust's friends. Because of the height difference, the goblin has to sit straight if he wants to continue talking with the others. His voice is a deep rumble on your back, and his words fan over the curve of your neck.

"That's what I am talking about," he grunts into your ear, squeezing your hips as you start to grind down on him. The rough fabric of his jeans and his erection underneath it rub against your slit repeatedly. You can feel yourself getting wetter and wetter with every passing second. Your palms are on the table as you try to keep your balance and circle your hips on his lap. You can feel him moving under you. He pushes up, nudging your clit. Your lips part in a silent groan.

The male and his friends continue talking while you chase your own pleasure. Your pussy aches for more, your hole clenches around nothing.

"Stand up," Rust says, stopping your movement. The muscles of your legs flex as you keep your weight above him, slightly bending over the table. You can hear the zipper of Rust's jeans as he frees himself, but your attention is drawn to the demon in front of you. He reaches over the table, unbuttons your shirt, and pushes down your bra until your breasts are bare for his dark eyes. His forked tongue licks across his sharp teeth. Your nipples are tight peaks. The edges of the lacy cups rub against them every time you move.

"C'mere, love," Rust grunts, grabbing your hips again to pull you back onto his lap. His cock slides into you easily. He is not as long as your other patrons, but the piercing at the tip makes you forget everyone else. You can feel the cold metal rubbing against your walls, nudging you in all the right places. "Fuck," the male grunts behind you when you are fully seated on him. You envelop his cock warmly and tightly. He can feel your pussy clamping around his shaft, begging for more. "This is your job, no?" He asks, satisfied. "Keeping my cock warm with your sweet pussy."

And to your utmost disapproval, that's what you do for the next ten minutes. Rust doesn't let you fidget and squirm, craving every bit of friction you can get. He keeps you on him, enjoying your misery while his friends talk and stare at you. Their gazes are heavy and hungry on your tits. You push them out some more with every breath you take as you lean back against Rust's chest. His hands from your side slip down between your legs. His fingers tease across your slit, finding your clit with slow circles. You are soaked. Your arousal drips down onto his lap.

"One more minute, and she will combust," Eva states, smirking as she puts a few new bottles down on the table. Her eyes rake over your bare chest, unashamed. "Do you think so?" Rust jokes but grinds up into your hole. The sudden movement takes your breath away as your head falls back on his shoulder. Eyes flutter shut. "But she is so warm."

He teases you for a few more seconds before making you move on his cock finally. He uses your hole to his heart's content while his friends in front of you stare openly, sipping their beers. Your breasts bounce with every thrust and every circle of your hips as you get higher and higher on the goblin's cock. His clever fingers work on your clit with experience. Rust knows how to drive you crazy with need.

Eva is still at the table, watching. Her dark eyes glint with hunger as she leans closer. Before you know it, your moans get muffled by her lips. Her tongue pushes into your mouth, dominating you while Rust fucks into you. Your pussy is tight and demanding. You want everything he can give you. The burning coil in your stomach grows, and your muscles tense. You almost scream when Eva bites your bottom lip, licking down the blood and sucking for more. The slight pain and the stretch of your aching pussy are enough to push you over the edge. Every nerve in your body bursts with pleasure. Your limbs start to tingle, and your hole clamps down and pulses around the goblin's erection.

"Fuck," Rust groans, pushing you up over the table. Your stomach is flat on the wooden surface. You feel him pulling out of you, and soon, his warm seed paints your waist and ass while you are still shaking after your orgasm. Your muscles jerk, and your pussy clenches.

Blood slips down your chin from the corner of your lips. When you look up and see the demon standing up, too, tugging on his cock a few times before pushing his length into your open lips, you know you will have a long night.

- Masterlist Grimbrook Masterlist Patreon

#monster romance #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #monster x human #grimbrook #goblin x reader #goblin x human #monsterfucker #monster lover #monster kink #terato #kinktober 2023

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simmerkate · 8 months

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Art Studio Set

Hey :) I hope you enjoy the latest addition to your Sims 4 creative journey.

Introducing the Art Studio Set, a perfect blend of functionality and aesthetics for your Sims 4 artistic endeavors. Transform your Sims' spaces into a haven of inspiration with carefully crafted decor items that bring the essence of an authentic art studio to life.

This set includes:

Painter's Table

Painter's Stool (functional)

Work-in-Progress Art Pieces

Canon Printer

Kneadable Eraser

Sketch Pencils

Packaging Boxes

Set of 3 Standing Canvases

Oil Paint Tubes

Brushes and Brush Pot

Wooden Palette Messy with Paint

Elevate your Sims' artistic experience with this thoughtfully curated collection. Please note that all items are decor except for the functional Painter's Stool and Painter's Table. As always, be mindful of high-poly CC usage on lower-end PCs to ensure a seamless gameplay experience.

Don't miss the public release on the 9th of February! For more updates and sneak peeks, follow me on Instagram @SimmerKatex. Happy simming!

Follow me on insta @SimmerKatex

Public Release - 9th of February Patreon (xx) ad-free

#ts4 #the sims 4 #ts4cc #the sims 4 cc #the sims cc #skcc #thesims4 #thesims4cc #ccfinds

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hunnylagoon · 10 months

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Birthday Girl

A/N This is my first tumblr fic. I’m a retired Wattpad warrior, I only wrote this bc the Ellie tag is over diluted by smut, we need some angst and fluff to balance it out. My credentials are that I used to write Game of Thrones fanfic and I was blocked by Noah Beck on Twitter. Apologies in advance for any spelling errors or confusing sentences, bc I was high off my ass when I wrote this.

Summary

Jackson’s resident Baker works herself tirelessly to take care of everyone on their birthday and ensure they get something nice to brighten their special day but who is there to take care of her?

Birthdays are like brilliant gems in the kaleidoscope of time; they are the times when life's symphony crescendos into a celebration of its children. As the sun circles the earth once a year, we are given a day to celebrate our own journey, a day that whispers stories of victories, laughter, and the sweet notes of resiliency. You had always loved birthdays, who didn't? The look of joy on someone's face when they open a gift you spent weeks looking for, the uncontrollable smile and pure serotonin that took over even the grumpiest of people. Everyone had a special day designated to them, of course, it was a cause to celebrate.

You worked in the town bakery with very few other people, from five am to twelve pm on Monday to Friday every single week you were hustling around in a humid bakery, hell, you ran it like the navy. Every morning, walking into the bakery is like stepping into a fragrant paradise where time seems to slow down to the sound of ovens buzzing to life. The first two hours were just for you before you let anyone in, The comforting routine of donning a flour-dusted apron and tying back unruly hair precedes the artistry of crafting pastries and breads. The almost therapeutic rhythm of kneading, rolling, and shaping becomes second nature: the soft crack of eggs, the calculated pour of sugar, and the clouds of flour hovering in midair.

There wasn't much creative freedom while working in the Jackson bakery, it really just consisted of making dozens of bread loaves daily and then carting them over to the 'Barbecue Place' Which was once a restaurant though it had been refashioned into Jackson's mess hall. However, you were able to dabble in some fun and were able to make cupcakes daily and a large batch of miscellaneous pastries every Friday. The cupcakes were very dear to you, you had to beg Maria when you were thirteen to approve the idea and eventually, you were green-lit.

As you step into the bakery you are greeted by the creek of wooden planks which are a testament to decades of busy activity; the dance of innumerable bakers has worn away at their shiny surfaces. The aroma of baked goods still hovers in the air from the previous day and all the days that came before, taking you to a more peaceful time. Sunlight streams through old lace curtains, illuminating worn, mismatched tables and chairs that have served eager clients for centuries though they no longer serve guests in the bakery. Deeply patinated wooden shelves support a variety of ceramic jars, each containing a treasure trove of hidden ingredients. Fading photos and yellowed newspaper clippings decorate the walls, telling the story of the bakery's illustrious past. There are copper pots and pans strung like time capsules on strong hooks, and an old-fashioned cash register sits on the end of the counter past the empty glass displays, it no longer serves a purpose but you have fought bravely to keep it around as it makes you think of what life had been like before the world fell apart.

You look at a beat-up calendar on the walls, sitting in the place of an old picture frame that had been knocked down and shattered by none other than yourself when you were fourteen and had the bright idea of having you and your friend toss a bag of flour at each other to see who was strong enough to last longer in the odd game of catch. Surely, Ellie threw the five-pound bag a little too hard, you ducked to save yourself but it smashed into the framed photo of the family who ran the bakery before the apocalypse. It not only was smashed into little fragments but the bag of flour exploded and covered the dining room of the bakery as well as yourself in white powder, it looked like it had snowed inside. The calendar you were checking held the birthday of every person in Jackson, it was messy and hard to read as you usually had to cram several birthdays into a single day which was only a small square, it was hardly legible, there was almost no one else who could read it. Every day when you walked into the bakery, the first thing you did was check the calendar to find out whose birthday it was, then you began your bread dough or carried on with the sourdough started the day before, while the dough rose, you made cake batter, adjusting the recipe according to how many you had to make. After finishing work for the day or sometimes when you were midway through it, you would give each person a cupcake to celebrate their special day.

Even if no one else remembered their birthday, you were always there to make it a little bit better.

Today there were two birthdays on the calendar, Sean Casey, a man who was turning sixty. The second birthday marked down in the little square was yours.

That's what made that day so special, you were ecstatic to see what your friends had planned for you later. Last year Ellie promised that she would go above and beyond for your next birthday and you were going to hold her to that. There was already a nice start to your morning by having your dad wake you up with breakfast in bed which you found truly impressive as he usually slept in till at least ten, on top of that he had scavenged a stand mixer for the home. You grabbed your apron off of the hook putting it over your neck and tying it tight around your waist. Everyone had a couple of designated aprons to rotate through throughout the week, yours consisted of two plain white ones, a red gingham pattern, one of forest green, and another made of a fabric covered in hyacinth flowers, their colours diluted like paint. Today you wore the apron your father gave you last year on your birthday, it was your favourite colour and the neckline was embroidered to say '(y/n)s kitchen'. You could tell your dad did the embroidery himself, the stitches were loose and uneven in some areas while being extremely tight in others, that's why you loved it so much, it was the thought and care behind it.

With a gentle hand, you pulled each of your necessary ingredients along with equipment out to begin your day. You preheat the ovens and in the quiet pre-dawn hours, the bakery comes alive with the hushed sounds of industrial mixers. The heady scent of freshly milled flour dances in the air as you measure the precise alchemy of ingredients, your hands moving with practiced grace. Kneading the dough becomes repetitive, muscles working in harmony to transform a mound of humble ingredients into a soft elastic texture. As the dough rests and rises, the anticipation builds—the promise of crusty loaves and soft, pillowy interiors. You slipped the pans of dough into the industrial ovens, the heat attacking you the second you opened the door; making sure to place the pumpernickel, rye, sourdough, brioche and wheat loaves all sorted on different racks in the respective ovens.

By the time you put the loaves in ovens it had been two hours from when you began, even with preparation the day before and dough starters, it was a process. You quickly washed your hands before unlocking the door for Juno as well as anyone who wanted to come in to visit.

The clock read '7:09', because of the passthrough you were still able to look outside via the glass storefront, you could see people walking along the streets heading to whatever job they worked to contribute to the community, no one got paid, it was a commune after all, you couldn't imagine a world where everyone was so dependent on money and so obsessed with over-consumption. Part of you was waiting for one of those people to come in and wish you a happy birthday, but you shook the thoughts from your head.

You began to make the small portion for two of cupcake batter, remembering distinctly how four years ago you sat next to Sean at the Fourth of July party and he went on and on about how much he hated vanilla, it seemed like one of those crazy old man rants but you found delight in it. Never had you seen a man so passionate about cake flavouring. He said vanilla was nothing special, flavourless; you had come to learn that he was a chocolate man, every holiday event filling his pot belly with chocolate, when you had brought assorted sweets for a Christmas party he dove straight for the brownies. So it was easy for you to make up your mind on what flavour of cupcake to make.

After years of this cupcake tradition you had memorized each ratio to make, a double serving of chocolate batter consisting of 1/4 cup of flour, 2 1/2 tablespoons of white sugar, 1 tablespoon of unsweetened cocoa powder, 1/4 tablespoon of baking soda, a dash of salt, 2 tablespoons milk, two tablespoons canola oil, 1/4 tablespoon vanilla extract. You treated baking like it was a science and recipes were your formulas.

As for the frosting, you had a stockpile of plain buttercream that you took small servings from and flavoured according to said person's preference. All you had to do was whip it up and add some cocoa powder to make it fluffy and creamy again.

The bell above the doorway rang, signalling the arrival of someone, you looked up to see Maria. "Hey, there," You smiled, turning off the stand mixer so you could hear her.

"Hi, (y/n)," She greeted and you quickly wiped whatever was on your hands onto your apron before coming around to the service counter to speak with her. "I have something to ask of you."

"Yes?"

"I know you already do your little cupcake thing but we are throwing a surprise party tonight for Sean and I was hoping you could make a cake for him?"

You nod with a smile "Anything for the town chief."

"Great, then how about a simple vanilla cake?"

"Sean doesn't like vanilla," You answered quickly.

"Okay, well I trust you with it, his party starts at eight tonight in the town square and he's turning sixty so it's a big one, I'll see you there around then?"

"Definitely," You grinned at Maria, waiting for her to wish you a happy birthday and reveal that she was only pretending to forget but she didn't. She thanked you and walked out, leaving you in a flour-covered apron with a tinge of hurt in your heart. It wasn't like you weren't close with Maria, you had Thanksgiving at her house every year.

Nonetheless, it was only a blip in your soon-to-be perfect day. Just as you had frosted the two cupcakes, putting chocolate chips on Sean's and breaking half of a double fudge cookie and sticking it into the thick icing. Rainbow sprinkles cascade like confetti, adding a whimsical touch to the miniature confection. The bell rang again calling for your attention, this time you didn't leave the kitchen instead just moved to look at whoever it was by the passthrough.

"Hey, kiddo!" Tommy greeted, clad in a red flannel tucked into blue jeans. He walked into the bakery as comfortably as he would his home.

"Howdy, Tommy," You said, moving out of his sight for a quick moment to put the two cupcakes in the fridge to prevent the buttercream from prematurely melting.

"So, it's Sean's birthday today and I was wondering if you could bake a cake for his party-

"Maria was already in," You answered "Don't worry, I'm on it."

He smiled "Of course, you're always so on top of it," He leaned over the counter slightly, trying to get a look inside the kitchen via the passthrough "Say, have you got anything back there for me?" You opened the box of double fudge cookies you made the day before and scooted around the passthrough to hand him one, boots clattering on the ground. Tommy loved to visit the bakery as you always had a sweet treat for him and he would never get sick of the aromatic embrace of fresh bread. "Thanks, kiddo, I'll see you around."

This was the moment you were almost convinced that they were planning a surprise party for you, sure Maria could forget about your birthday, she was a busy lady but there was no way Tommy would. He was good buddies with your dad and was over at your place for beers a minimum of once a week. You always baked for him when he came over and he constantly joked about you trying to fatten him up.

The bell sounded again though you didn't bother to look up, you knew who it was by the time of the clock, Juno was starting her shift. As usual, she tied her mousy brown hair into a sleek ponytail then grabbed her apron and stuck a baseball cap on over her head so there was no chance of her hair coming loose. "Good morning," She walked into the kitchen, heading over to the sink to wash her hands.

"Mornin'," You answer.

She looks you up and down with a slight smile "You're wearing your favourite apron, must be a special day."

“Sure doesn't feel like it."

♡

Your birthday wasn’t panning out great but you didn't want to lose hope.

You had walked over to the greenhouses after your shift to find Sean, he loved the cupcake, he even hugged you which was nice albeit a little odd. You walked through town a bit after you had stopped and talked to everyone on the street for not a single one to say the words you've been pleading to hear all day. Taking it as defeat, you grabbed a sandwich for lunch from the mess hall and began the desolate walk home.

Nestled at the end of a peaceful, tree-lined street, the charming but battered house had a certain charm that cut through its worn yellow exterior. Tentacles of ivy wrapped about the crumbling outside walls, their green tones infusing the dilapidated building with a hint of the natural world's tenacity. The worn-out yet friendly doormat and weathered rocking chair on the porch told of years spent taking in the changing of the seasons. The wooden frames of the windows, adorned with faded drapes that seen innumerable sunsets, spoke tales of laughter and time passed.

The house's coziness unfolded inside like a time capsule, with worn-out rugs covering creaky floorboards and a fireplace in the living room that was adorned with vintage tiles that were mismatched and provided warmth in more ways than one. The rooms had a lived-in comfort despite the peeling wallpaper and chipped paint, and each mismatched piece of furniture seemed to tell a story of its own. Despite being tatty and ragged around the edges, the house exuded a calmness that invited guests to enjoy the beauty concealed in the flaws of a place that had aged gracefully and with character like most homes in Jackson. The living room was always your favourite, there was a spruce bookshelf pushed behind the gray, L-shaped couch, and the rug was once a maroon colour though it's clear that it's been well-loved over the years. Pillows and throw blankets were carelessly scattered over the couch from when you and your dad had watched '21 Jumpstreet' the night before, he kept saying it was a shame the outbreak happened before they got to make a second one, though many of the jokes didn't land with you, you loved to see your dad laugh so hard he snorted. The room was illuminated by a warm glow from the fairy lights overhead that your dad scavenged years prior, a small stack of books piled up on the coffee table which had been hand-crafted by Joel.

You popped 'Mean Girls' into the DVD player, just to have some background noise and went to the kitchen and started on Sean's cake. As much as you loved the bakery, you wanted to be somewhere a little more close to comfort.

As you measured each ingredient with care, you couldn't shake the bittersweet feeling that lingered in the air. Sifting the ingredients into the bowl, you had wished your father was home from patrol duty, all you really wanted was a hug but instead, you slaved away at a black forest complete with layers of moist sponge, decadent frosting, and a profusion of vibrant decorations.

As you delicately frosted the cake, your mind flitted between thoughts of the celebration and the poignant fact that everyone seemed to have overlooked your own special day. The kitchen, usually a sanctuary for you to escape to, now harboured the weight of unspoken emotions. Your heart, though excited for Sean to get a nice surprise on his Birthday, held an unnoticed longing for acknowledgment.

The aroma of the baking cake filled the kitchen, mingling with the scent of disappointment that you couldn't quite shake.

As the cake took shape, you couldn't help but think back to the calendar at the bakery, where the date circled in red seemed to mock you. Your own birthday, usually a day filled with surprises and the warmth of laughter, had slipped through the cracks of everyone's awareness. Though the night was still young and Ellie had said that she was planning something incredible.

Finally, nine was about to roll around, you changed into some clean clothes that hadn't yet carried the memories of your disappointing day, just a white top and some jeans. The sun had set, and your dad wouldn't be home for a good while so you walked over to the town square alone.

There was a table full of food and a long banner that read 'Happy Birthday Sean!' strung between two street lamps. There were twinkling fairy lights illuminating what would have otherwise been a dark night.

"There she is!" Tommy smiled, doing that awkward little dad jog over you. "Wow, that cake looks incredible, mind if I take it off your hands?"

"Go ahead," You held out the cakeboard. Tommy gingerly took it away from your grasp, his forearm underneath to support and his other hand held the side of the board for balance.

"I owe ya' kiddo," He winked before taking the cake away to show a group of adults.

You stood around awkwardly for a moment, unsure of what to do with yourself. You turned your attention to the moon, wanting to believe that it shined so very bright just for you, because the moon, unlike everyone else recalled how important this day was to you-

"SURPRISE!" Everyone erupted in cheers as Sean walked up to his party, his daughter had her arm linked with his. He had the biggest smile on his face it almost made you forgive everyone for forgetting because at least Sean got something thoughtful.

"Lord, I was thinking everyone forgot my birthday!" Sean laughed, pulling Tommy in for a hug.

"(y/n)!" Dina yelled, you turned your head to follow her voice. She was sitting at a long picnic table beneath an awning with some friends "Over here," She motioned for you to sit down and you obliged, taking a spot between Ellie and Laila. "What have you been up to? I feel like I haven't seen you all day."

"That's because you haven't," You said with an awkward smile. "I've just been baking, like always."

"You're always working so hard, I swear you live in that bakery and when you aren't in there your busy busting your ass around town to make sure everyone gets something on their birthday," Dina sat across from you and put a hand onto yours "You look out for everyone, but who's looking out for you?"

"My dad?" You glance at Ellie who isn't tuned into the conversation in the slightest, she has her arms crossed in front of her on the table and her head resting on them.

"Aw, that's sweet-" Kayla moves to look at you but in doing so, she spills a glass of juice onto you. "I'm so sorry," She slaps one hand over her mouth, her eyebrows furrowing. Kayla stood up from the table, her ginger curls rustling with the breeze "I'll get a cloth or something-

"Don't worry about it," I wave her off "It's just clothes, I'll grab some napkins." You push yourself away from the table, walking over to the table adorned with food, you see a small stack of Christmas themed napkins (it must've been hard for them to come by regular ones) and grab a handful, bunching them up in your hand in an attempt to soak up some of the juice that had already indefinitely stained your clothes.

You feel some eyes on you from the other side of the table, to look up and see Joel, he doesn't say anything though his lips are pressed together tight.

"You're back," You say, a spark of happiness rekindling inside of you "So my dad's back from patrol too?"

Joel nods "Too tuckered to come out, said he was just heading home," He uses tongs to put a couple cuts of chicken onto his plate "Oh and happy birthday, you've probably heard that a whole bunch already, lord, it's all your old man would talk about on our last couple of patrols."

"What did you say?" You look at him with furrowed eyebrows, unsure if he said what you really thought.

"I said happy birthday, shame you've stained your clothes on your birthday," He absentmindedly added some mashed potatoes onto his plate. The words hung in the air, a moment that transcended the boundaries of their usual exchanges. You, momentarily taken aback, met Joel's gaze. It was a simple, earnest wish, uttered with the spontaneity of someone who had remembered a small yet significant detail in the whirlwind of festivity.

"Thank you, Joel," You replied, your voice carrying a mix of surprise and gratitude. In that fleeting instant, the isolation that had surrounded her seemed to dissipate. A connection, however tenuous, had been forged in the acknowledgment of her existence amidst the collective celebration.

"No problem, kid, I'll see you around," He left with his plate leaving you to stand alone at the table. You continued to dab at the juice on your white top, and though you knew it wouldn't come out you proceeded to rub it; the best exchange of your day, no more than eight sentences suddenly turned from joy to frustration. The only two people who remembered your birthday were your dad and a fiftey-eight-year-old man who practically raised the girl you had spent years crushing on, not the girl herself, but her father figure. However, you thought, maybe if Joel remembered, Ellie had aswell and she actually did have something planned.

Amidst the lively chatter and laughter that reverberated through the night, you stood in the midst of flickering candles and colourful decorations, your eyes cast down to the ground. The atmosphere of celebration enveloped her, but a palpable sense of solitude hung in the air like a heavy mist settling upon your shoulders. It was a birthday party, yes, but not your own. Forgotten and overlooked, your heart echoed with a quiet ache, the irony of your situation casting a shadow over the festive scene.

The square was adorned with streamers and balloons, a tapestry of colours that seemed to dance in rhythm with the joyful voices around her. The community gathered, their faces lit by the warm glow of the fairy lights and street lamps, each one caught up in the merriment of the moment. Yet, for you, the celebration felt like a distant spectacle, a scene from which you were detached.

It was your birthday too—a fact that no one cared enough to recall. As Darla (Sean's daughter) calls guests toward a decadent cake adorned with candles, which you had made, you couldn't escape the bitter irony of the situation. You watched as the room erupted into a chorus of "Happy Birthday," the song meant for another soul, another moment of joy. You joined in, lips forming the familiar words, your voice harmonizing with the collective melody. But within the depths of your being, the celebration rang hollow, a stark contrast to the cheer that echoed around you.

Throughout the evening, you navigated the party with a forced smile, concealing the invisible weight of your emotions. Conversations buzzed like bees in your ears, no- it grated like a fork in a blender, but you found yourself on the outskirts—a silent observer amidst the numerous connections. The laughter that erupted like fireworks, the clinking of glasses, the embraces of old friends—it all seemed distant, an echo from another realm where she once belonged.

The party unfolded as a series of snapshots: a group photo with smiling faces, a toast to Sean, and the opening of gifts that weren't meant for you. Each moment, though vibrant and filled with the warmth of shared camaraderie, magnified the silence that enveloped your own celebration, forgotten and left to dissolve into the shadows.

As the night carried out, seeming like the celebration would never cease, you cut yourself a slice of cake, grabbing one of the half-melted candles that Sean had already blown out, they sat in a frosting-covered pile next to the cake. You took your favourite colour out of the rainbow assortment of candles and stuck it into the piece of black forest cake.

With your cake you sat back down by Ellie at the picnic table where she still returned to after conversing, everyone else had gotten up to dance. You reached for the lighter in your pocket and struck it to ignite, sparks flickered around the end of it, you struck it again and a flame arose, you carefully brought it to the wick of the partially melted candle.

The flickering flame cast a subtle glow as you made a silent wish for understanding, for the beauty found in selflessness, and for the recognition that sometimes the most meaningful celebrations are the ones we craft for others, even in the quiet echoes of our own unacknowledged birthdays. Ellie turned to look at you as the candle's flame danced in the darkness, before you could blow out the candle to solidify your wish a little girl climbed up onto the bench and blew it out, you looked at her and all she did was smile up at you, the gap in her teeth prominent, her deep chocolate hair braided so intricately you had to believe that it must've taken her mother hours.

As much as you wanted to deck that little girl in the face for ruining your moment, you didn't because it would be wildly inappropriate. "Do you want this?" You sighed, holding out the plate to the girl, she smiled and nodded enthusiastically, taking the cake and scattering away "Hey, Ellie," You pushed back tears in your eyes, forcing a smile on your face "Got any plans later?"

“Yeah," She said, short

"Oh, what are they?"

"Not to sound like a cunt but I'm not really in the mood to talk, I had a shit patrol and all I want to do is go home, smoke a joint, watch a movie, maybe read a comic, and pass out on my couch, the only reason I'm here is that Dina dragged me out and Joel said I need to be more involved in the community."

Your smile dropped, you couldn't hold it in anymore, realizing that this wasn't the elaborate setup of a surprise party but Ellie genuinely forgot it was your birthday. "Are you serious?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Do you know what day it is?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you remember what's happening today?"

"It's Sean's birthday," She gestured to the party around her.

"You're fucking serious," Any amusement that had been in your tone was gone, replaced by a subtle anger boiling up inside of you

"Are you going to cry?" Ellie gave you a weird look "What are you so mad about?"

"I can't believe you," You laugh bitterly "Actually I can, this is so like you, I need to stop building it up in my head that you're going to surprise me with something great. But hey, at least you never fail to let me down."

"Jesus," She scoffed "There's always something going on with you, can you go one day without finding some irrational reason to be upset?"

"Irrational?"

"Yeah, irrational," She reiterated "You always come to me when something sets you off in the slightest then your problem becomes everyone else's. You're so fucking draining and I'm sick of it."

"Fuck you, I hope your comic catches fire from your joint and you burn your place down." You stand up from the bench, wiping tears away from your eyes. Your boots clattered against the cobblestone. You stormed past the dancers, some stopping to look at one another with concern. Dina leaves Jesse to ask Ellie what happened.

The walk home might've been the loneliest you had felt in your life, the harsh wind of the night bit at your nose. The feeling of the sticky juice soaking through your clothing was borderline unbearable, were just about ready to scream. There wasn't a single person out and about as everyone was either at the party or cozied up in their own homes.

Arriving at your doorstep, you fumbled with the handle, the metallic clink resonating in the quietude that enveloped the house. The door swung open, revealing the dimly lit foyer, still no surprise. Why do you still think there is going to be a party? No one is coming.

You wandered into the living room, the TV was lit with the options screen for 'Mean Girls' that you had put on hours earlier.

Sinking into the worn-out couch, You let the weight of the day wash over you. A single tear welled in your eye, and as it escaped, a floodgate of unshed sorrow burst open. The first teardrop traced a silent path down your cheek, leaving a glistening trail of heartache in its wake.

The tears you cried weren't silent and dainty but violent sobs that burned your throat each time you cried out. As you wept, it felt like someone had stabbed your gut with a thousand needles, you cried and cried, to no one in particular, maybe the moon glistening outside the window though the moon seemed to absorb your tears, offering no solace in return.

The soft tick of the clock on the wall echoed in the quiet room, marking the strike of midnight, your birthday had ended. There was no secret party or a prank where everyone was only playing an act, only the emptiness of the house echoed the howls soaked in your tears.

The oak staircase creaked, and your dad turned the corner, peering into the living room. "What's wrong, honey,?" He shook the sleep from his mind, focusing on what was important, he sat next to you on the sofa. "I thought you said you were going to be out all night with your friends?"

You shook your head, breathing shaky breaths alone, hardly able to get a word out "They forgot," You felt the harsh sting of desolation hit you all over again "Everyone forgot," You grabbed his grey t-shirt burying your face into his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, cradling you gently like you were a child who had just scraped her knee not someone who had just turned nineteen, "Except for Joel, so be nice to him, please."

"I'm sorry, baby, it was probably just a mix-up," He rubbed one hand on your back to comfort you. "I should've been there with you, I'm so sorry."

You couldn't get the words out of your mouth, all you could manage was to shake in your father's arms with sobs until you cried yourself to sleep.

♡

"Happy birthday, Jasmine!" You smile brightly, presenting a lemon-raspberry cupcake to the woman. She was serving breakfast in the mess hall, the early morning light streaming through the many windows, blinding those trying to enjoy their meals.

"Aw, thank you, love" She took the cupcake "That's real sweet," She wore a hairnet, despite having short cropped hair. "I just realized I don't even know when your birthday is."

"It was yesterday, actually."

"Aww, how was it?" Jasmine smiled, her white teeth contrasting with her dark skin.

"It was nice, it was quiet too, I just spent it by myself."

A frown replaced Jasmine's smile and she lowered her tone "Did your friends drop the ball?"

You wave off her question "Oh no, loads of people remembered, I just wanted some time to myself, it was nice."

You could tell Jasmine didn't wholeheartedly believe you, she was at Sean's party last night and saw you rush out with tears building in your eyes "If you say so," She shrugged, taking a bite of her cupcake "This is really good."

"Thanks," A small smile plays on your lips.

"God bless you, sweetheart, you deserve the best." She said, every bit of truth behind her words. She took another bite of the cupcake, savouring the sweet and sour taste "And I mean that."

You were too caught up in conversation to notice Jesse ahead of you in the service line right away, he grabbed a glass and filled it with water from the dispenser, trying to play cool and not have your attention drawn to him. With a shaky hand, he put the glass on his tray and hurried over to the table where Ellie was eating with Dina. "Guys, something not that great just happened."

Ellie furrowed her eyebrows looking from Dina to Jesse "What?" She asked through a mouthful of scrambled eggs, she swallowed them down and spoke back up "Please tell us what terrible thing has happened in the time it took you to walk to the service line, get your food and come back?" Sarcasm dripped from her voice.

"We forgot (y/n)'s birthday," He said quickly, Ellie and Dina looked at each other with wide eyes, thinking back to the night before and the way they had both behaved. Dina was extremely ignorant and Ellie got into an argument with you, though Jesse didn't speak to you at all.

"We're awful friends," Dina says quietly, scraping her mind for any way they could salvage the situation and play it off like they hadn't forgotten. "We could change all of the calendars in town and make it seem like her birthday is actually today."

"Be serious, Dina," Jesse said, though he was considering her idea. "I think the only way we can fix this is by making it up to her."

"How would we do that? We can't make it up to her, she remembers every single person's birthday in this town and gives them a cupcake, even people she doesn't like, do you remember how she planned all of our birthday parties for the last four years and has never let us down?" Dina and Jesse nodded "And how we always scramble something together last minute? Like last year, we only remembered two days before and we threw her a subpar movie night, we watched Star Wars and she doesn't even like Star Wars."

Dina sucked air through her teeth "Yeah, not our best moment."

"You think?" Jesse asked, sarcastically. "And Ellie didn't make it any better by yelling at her yesterday!"

"You yelled at her? You told me you didn't yell at her," Dina whipped her head to look at Ellie, the smallest glimpse of judgment in her eyes. "Shh, she's coming!"

You were making your way to the exit lugging the cart that had held loaves of bread on it before you dropped them off to the kitchen, still in your flour-covered apron, hair pinned up messy, baby hairs flying away. Clad in jeans, a green T-shirt and beaten-up boots, clacking against the hardwood floor, you still looked beautiful to Ellie with red eyes and a puffy face from crying all night. "Watch this," Jesse murmured to the group before turning around and flagging you down. "Hey (y/n)!" He smiled brightly, his words catching your attention "Did you enjoy your birthday, yesterday?"

"Jesse, I know you heard me talking to Jasmine." You said and Ellie couldn't bear the disappointed look on your face. At that moment, the guilt hit her all at once. You had been the first kid her age that she warmed up to when she arrived in Jackson, trying your best to include her in everything. You invited her to hang out with your friends even though she didn't particularly get along with them, she went anyway because she just wanted to see you. On her birthday the previous year, you had scoped out an old comic store hours away just to bring her there for one day.

Jesse's smile fell and you had walked out the door before he had the chance to push a lie through his teeth. Last night's conversation echoed through Ellie's head over and over again, she cringed at the memory, god, why did she even say that?

Dina reached over the table and gave Ellie a harsh smack on the arm "Why did you even say that?!"

"Ow," She flinched, rubbing the spot that had been assaulted by Dina "What are you talking about?"

Dina looked at Ellie like she was just about ready to scream "What you said to her last night, what was going through your head?"

"Not much, apparently," Jesse answered for her, earning a death glare from the Auburn girl.

"I'll just apologize and it'll be water under the bridge," Ellie said, leaning back.

"That's not going to work," Dina replied quickly.

It, in fact, did not work. Ellie had shown up at the bakery where you promptly ignored her. "(y/n), I'm really sorry I forgot your birthday and said those things to you." Nothing Ellie said could get you to even look at her.

She had later stopped by your house, it was your dad who answered the door and Ellie sheepishly asked if you were home. He called for you to come down, the moment you saw Ellie, you shut the door in her face. There was no way she could defend herself, she couldn't say that she said those things because she had a bad day (even though she did), and that would just make her seem pathetic. She really wanted to say that she was scared of how much she liked you, she didn't want to ruin a good thing, you both had spent years playing the role of each other's best friend until Ellie started to distance herself from you and you ended up enwrapping yourself with work to distract yourself from the fact that she was drifting away.

Ellie didn't know what to do, if she didn't act fast, it would be too late and she was going to lose you.

♡

One week later

The sun was just beginning to set as you were already preparing to settle into bed and read a book, just about to change out of your floor-length sundress and into one of your dad's old shirts. However, your plans were interrupted when you heard your dad screaming downstairs, it was blood-curdling. You dropped everything, pulling your bedroom door open and rushing down the stairs, tripping on a step and stumbling before quickly regaining balance and moving with haste "Dad?" You called out, worry running through your head.

"SURPRISE!" People practically screeched, the volume so loud that you jolted back in fear. The chatter only grew as you looked around you and realized what was happening, this was your belated birthday party.

You were pulled in suddenly for a hug, squeezing you so tight you thought your eyes would pop out of your skull was Tommy "I'm so sorry, kiddo, I was being a real shithead on your birthday."

"It's okay," You choked out, nearly gasping for air. Much to your relief, he released you and you took a deep breath.

"Happy belated birthday!" Dina sang, placing a fat box in your arms. Many people followed after her, piling gifts on top of the initial one, you were quickly losing balance, so you stumbled into the living room and put the gifts onto the coffee table. There was so much life in the living room it was almost hard to believe that just a week before you had been crying alone, bathed in moonlight.

There were streamers strung throughout your house and odd dangly decorations that hung from the ceiling. Some balloons were taped to the walls while others bounced around the ground.

The lively hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the melodic strains of birthday wishes filled the room as the party pulsated with energy. Colourful decorations adorned the walls, and the air was charged with the festive spirit.

You had the biggest smile on your face while everyone joked and jeered. Shoving their gifts into your face, trying to get you to open them first. It had made you forget about how awful your real birthday was, though you did try to dodge awkward apologies of people fumbling over their own words to make up excuses as to why they missed your real birthday.

"Happy birthday to you-" A voice began singing, and soon enough the entire crowd joined in, harmonizing into an off-key rendition of the birthday song. They made way for the person carrying the cake which had been none other than Ellie herself. The song ended off and Ellie placed the cake in front of you on the coffee table. "Make a wish."

You blew out all of the candles, and no punchable little girl around to steal your thunder, the room erupted into applause. The celebration continued with the living room becoming a dance floor, laughter echoing through the corridors, and conversations flowing freely. The cake itself reminded you of the embroidery your dad had done on your apron, it was sloppy and imperfect but you could tell it was made with love, the icing had been put on prematurely and had partially melted off the cake. It read 'Happy birthday' with 'Sorry for being a dick' written smaller beneath the first bit of text.

"Thank you, Ellie," You smiled softly up at her.

No one else was paying attention to you anymore, aside from those who wanted a slice of cake. Ellie nervously fumbled around with her hands "Do you want to dance?"

Ellie invited you to dance as the opening notes of the song floated through the air and she held out her hand. With a gentle smile, you accepted and you moved into the middle of the living room to form a makeshift dance floor. The soft aroma of fresh flowers blended with the scent of vanilla candles created an ambiance that enhanced the moment's sensory magic.

To the gentle beat of the song, your bodies moved in unison. Your hand settled comfortably on Ellie's shoulder, and her hand wrapped around your waist. Your bond transcended the material in the living room dance, an unspoken language of mutual feelings and unknown depths.

You both danced, recklessly, so much so that you were nearly a hazard for the swaying couples drifting around you, moving faster and not hurriedly as the tempo picked up. With each step, the living room's walls became silent witnesses to a romance that was developing on the plush carpet under their feet. The muted rustle of your clothing and the melodic notes of the music were all that could be heard to your ears.

The two of you took great pleasure in the dance's exuberance, laughing at the imperfect nature of it. In the noise of the living room, your eyes, locked in a dance of their own, spoke volumes. You were embraced by the dim lighting's vulnerability, which freed you from the burdens of the outside world to fully enjoy the moment.

Ellie guided you in a soft spin as the song went on, your moves were not fluid and elegant but Ellie could've sworn that looking into your eyes made it feel like there was liquid sunlight coursing through your veins

You and Ellie drew closer in the song's last moments, your bodies pressed together in an embrace that went beyond the material. As the last notes of the music faded, they held each other for an extra moment, relishing the warmth that they shared and the unspoken promises that danced between them. You wished that you could've stayed in Ellie's strong embrace for centuries.

You let go of Ellie, taking a step back with a smile, "Why didn't you tell me you were such a good dancer?" You tease, almost out of breath.

"I didn't know I was," She grinned, taking the sight of you in. Your cheeks were flushed and your hair had become messy, she thought you to be beautiful all the same, if not more. Her eyes raked over your body, your floor-length sundress and mismatched socks "And here I was thinking it was too late for sundresses."

"It's never too late, Ellie."

#ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #the last of us #slow burn #the last of us ellie #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams fluff #Ellie Williams X reader angst #angst #fluff #ellie x fem reader #mean!ellie #tlou #super slow burn

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joelmillergirl · 3 days

Text

Intro (end of the world)

Sweet Joel Slut Miller

Word count: 3,550

Warnings: not proofread, p in v, no cream pie for this one 😞, hard sex, but also soft sex! Not a lot of warnings for this one!

Authors Note: This took way longer than I liked but… I’m happy with it. 🤍

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

He started off as your patrol partner. He didn’t like you, never spoke more than four words to you every day, ‘Stay focused, be quick.’

His disinterest and bluntness had genuinely upset you at first, taking you aback when your cheery greeting was met with dead silence. You’d gotten used to it though, not once did you cease your talking, albeit, it was falling on deaf ears. Overtime, his eyebrows began softening, his lips quirked up at the side when you told a funny story, and with your teasing and your ability to never shut up on patrols, Joel found himself opening up to you, finding trust and comfort in yet another person he’d wanted to keep at arms length.

He never revealed much to you, only brief snippets of a life from before; a life he was starting to forget. He listened when you talked, placed an awkward hand on your shoulder when you cried, offered you his coffee when you ran out of your own. He had become your closest friend, one of your only friends.

Despite Jackson being a growing, close community, you often felt alone, your experiences feeling unmatched to those who had lost so much and had fought so much harder than you had. This feeling of discomfort and guilt led you to be quiet, always putting on a smile to avoid unanswerable questions. Joel saw right through this façade, going as far as cornering you in your own house, almost pleading with you to talk to him.

The rumours started within the first few days of your relationship, word spreading quick that you had managed to win over stone-hearted, broody Joel Miller, two polar opposites. Joel seemed to have no interest in these rumours, shaking his head at the mention of them. You on the other hand, became bashful at the thought, furrowing your eyebrows as if the idea was such a stretch.

Perhaps it was a stretch, the idea of Joel Miller dating made anyone snicker. He was undeniably attractive, physically pleasing to the eye with the Southern gentleman manners to match, naturally attracting many women in Jackson, older and younger. Some were brave to approach him, blinking their eyes at him over-dramatically, pushing their arms against their breasts in an effort to catch his eye, but none of these advances ever worked.

The hardest part about the rumours was how you couldn’t even blame anyone for thinking you were going out with Joel. You were always with each other, mostly found drinking in Jackson’s only ‘bar’, a small building with a home crafted bar top with tables strategically placed around the room, decorations hung up on the walls, most old and ripped. No one dared approach you when he was with you, Joel acting like somewhat of a bodyguard, looming over you. It was in his blood- you told yourself- his protectiveness, even though a small voice in the back of your head begged to differ.

You thump your fist against the wooden door, listening to the sound echo inside. A couple seconds of silence and then you hear heavy boots, seemingly trudging down some stairs, and then the door opened. Joel looked down at you, his usual stoic expression not shifting as you smile at him, “Drink?” You simply ask.

He tilts his head slightly, leaning on the doorframe. “You paying?” He joked lamely, a small smirk manifesting on his face.

“That’s not funny. You’re not funny.” You shake your head, a smile threatening your lips as he pulls himself off the doorframe, turning slightly to close his front door, then he’s stepping forward, pushing past you and down the porch steps.

He looks back once, jerking his head forward gently. You hop down the steps, falling in line next to him as he starts walking, sending a small glance to you. “Feel like I haven’t seen much of ya.” He confessed, looking down at the gravel below his feet.

You furrow your eyebrows, looking at him. “Oh… I mean, I picked up that extra patrol to help Maria out yesterday.”

Joel nods, “Yeah, I know. Went okay?” You were silent for a moment. “Did it?” He further pushed, looking at you properly.

“Infected were fine, not many… it was quiet.” You shrug, looking away from his piercing gaze. He didn’t say anything in response, but you could feel his eyes boring into the side of your face. “It was with Zack… I don’t know, he’s…”

“Pushy?” Joel finishes for you, finally looking away from you.

You sigh, raking your hands through your hair, “Well, yes, he is. But he’s a good person to be with on patrol, I just… He’s a bit much.”

Joel nods slowly, pushing into your side slightly as a group of women walk past, giggles following after them with a few looking back over their shoulders to look at him, you laugh under your breath, nudging him gently. Joel scowls, moving back to his original position, a gap between you. “Who’re you with tomorrow?” He asks.

You grimace, “Zack. Just this last time. Should be fine.” You perk up at the sight of the bar, your eyes craning to see how busy it was. You dreaded the thought of tomorrow's patrol, so used to being with Joel. His comforting aura replaced with an uncomfortable one with Zack. He wasn’t creepy, nor was he rude, just too enthusiastic about himself and his ability to charm women, he wasn’t what you were used to.

Joel stepped in front of you to open the bars’ door, moving to the side and nodding his head towards the entrance. You thank him quietly as you walk in, immediately moving to take your jacket off, the unexpected, yet pleasant warmth rushing through your body. “I’m kind of hungry.” You say, handing your jacket to Joel for him to hang up on the stand by the door.

“We’ll get you something to eat then.” Joel muttered, placing his hand on your shoulder and pushing you forward gently. You choose to sit down at a table in a corner, your back facing the wall. “Beer?” He asks, hand resting in front of you on the table.

Your eyes fall to his hand, tracing up the perceptible veins running up his arm. You blink and look up to him, “Uh, yes. Thanks.” Joel looks at you for a second longer, squinting his eyes before turning around, approaching Seth at the bar, the man who made the alcohol as best as he could given the circumstances, which surprisingly, after a few months of testing, had resulted in near identical flavours from the world before.

You found your mind wandering as you waited for Joel to come back, your head face down, completely tuning out everyone around you. After what seems like a few minutes, you look up, eyes scanning the bar for Joel, who is picking up two glasses when you see him. You’re about to stand up to help him but a voice pulls your attention away, Zack, talking loudly to his group of friends.

You’re still absentmindedly looking at Zack when Joel appears next to you, placing one glass in front of you along with a little bowl of peanuts. You look up at him when he stays standing, he’s looking at Zack “Thank you.” You say.

He looks down at you when you speak, eyes flickering to the bowl which you start grabbing from, then nods once, sitting down with his glass. He doesn’t drink though, remains looking at the liquid, every so often swishing it around in the glass. You frown, taking a sip of your own. He looks up at you, “You’re welcome.”

You almost laugh at the delayed response, opting to instead smile at him, eating the peanuts he had brought you. Next to you, you hear three sets of small giggles, belonging to young teenage girls, all of them looking at you and Joel before looking away at each other, whispering amongst themselves. Joel’s fingers sneak their way over to your side of the table, grabbing a handful of peanuts for himself, smirking. You laugh at his face, “Why’re you smirking?”

“Peanuts… Takes me back, eating them at the proper bars… Tommy sittin’ next to me. He was underage, of course.” Joel points out, shaking his head slightly, “Guess I was a bad influence.” He looks up at you, tilting his hand into his mouth and then finally taking his first drink of the beer, all while staring at you.

You look down, sigh, then look back up at him. “I wanna go to bed.” Joel raises his eyebrow, laughs slightly.

“It’s like eight. Not even I wanna go to bed this early. You’re older than you think, girl.” He says, looking at you amused. You roll your eyes at his remark, finishing off the last bit of your drink.

Later that night, he walks you home. You tell yourself he did it because of a deeper meaning, but you knew it was only because his house was a street away from yours. Still, you thanked him for walking you, listened to him tell you off for thanking him, and then said goodbye. You made sure to check on him from your window before you made your way up to your room, as if anything would happen to him in the confined town.

The sun was just creeping over the horizon as you stood by the patrol roster near the horse paddocks, a deep sigh escaping your lips. You really were dreading today's patrol, knowing it would be spent being subjected to Zack’s borderline narcissistic rants about himself. A part of you felt bad, he wasn’t a bad guy. He was attractive, he treated women with respect, he had an airy voice, higher in pitch. The opposite of Joel.

The comparison threw you off guard. When did you start thinking about him so much? Comparing him to other guys you interacted with? It was the rumours getting to your head, you told yourself as you made your way to the gate, where you knew Zack would be with both horses. Only, it wasn’t Zack you laid eyes on when you got there, rather Joel. He was holding the reins of his horse and yours, skilfully avoiding the eyes of everyone around him, until as if knowing you were there, he looked up and made eye contact with you.

The gap closed between you, questions and thoughts running through your head before you could even reach him. “Mornin’.” Joel muttered when you were close enough, his hand reaching out with your horse's rein.

You gently take it from him, “Thanks… Zack’s probably trying to find her right now though.” You laugh, placing your hand on the side of the horse's face, gently smoothing down the short fur there. Joel clears his throat gently in front of you.

“Probably not. You’re with me today.” He nods to himself, glancing at you for a second before turning away, slowly pulling his horse behind him. You stood still for a moment, more questions arising in your head. Zack appears in the corner of your eyesight, standing alongside one of the younger patrolmen, he sends you a friendly wave.

Maria stands tough in front of everyone, going through all the rules and regulations you have to listen to every week, you fight the urge to just barge through and get on with it. Everyone’s on their horses now, making sure their weapons are ready and that they have everything they need. You had already checked twice, and Joel seemingly had as well as he sat next to you listening to Maria’s words intently. He glances to the side at you, “Pay attention, don’t need you forgetting any of this when we’re out there.”

Another joke of his. “Funny.” You say with a flat tone, shaking your head. At last Maria had given the green light, sending the signal to open the large gate in front of everyone. You always got nervous watching the gates open, the intrusive thoughts and anxiety always hitting you suddenly. Your hands tighten around the leather, and you start consciously telling yourself to take deep breaths. Joel reaches over slightly and taps the side of your leg twice, nodding gently. You nod back, and then you’re moving forward.

You were on your favourite trail, everything about it was peaceful and normally quiet. You were quiet. Your usual chirpy attitude was replaced with a more sluggish one, something Joel picked up on instantly. “Favourite trail, huh?” He started, letting out a deep sigh, “Pretty cold, should light a fire when we get up to the safe house.”

“Mhm.” You hum, closing your eyes for a few seconds, “Warm fire.” The cooler air surrounded you, almost wrapping itself around you in a cold grasp. It temporarily lifted your worries, all your questions and anxieties soothing for a while as you focused on what you were meant to be doing; patrolling.

Joel effortlessly located any infected that were in the way, relying on you to move at his pace, watch his back and defend yourself as he focused on taking them all out. You worked in harmony, doing your jobs well, and by the end of the day, the sun now back at the horizon darkening the sky, you were exhausted.

The safe house was freezing when you finally were able to walk inside, seizing up your body. You immediately turned to Joel, opening your mouth to complain. “I know.” He said before you could, “Give me a minute to light it up. Make yourself useful and heat up our food.”

You roll your eyes at his command but obey nonetheless, fishing out the cans of food he had brought along and moving to the semi functional kitchen, doing your best to make the most appealing dinner you could. You walk out with the two plates in hand to a soothingly warm living room, Joel sitting by the fireplace peering at the flames. “Dinner.” You announce after a shameful amount of seconds simply admiring him, and more specifically, his back profile.

You glance up at him every now and then when you eat. Sometimes you make eye contact, other times you go unnoticed. You’re speaking before you can stop yourself, “Did you change patrols with Zack?”

He pauses, his hand hovers in the air for a moment before he places his fork down and looks at you properly. “Why?”

You shrug and look down. “Just asking. It’s a little weird, I wasn’t told it was changing.” He seems a little tense now, so you quiet down and finish eating, the air thick around you.

Joel stands up, grunting as he did. “I… I asked Maria to change ‘em. Thought you might’ve been uncomfortable with him.” You look up at him and try to catch his eye, which seems impossible given he was looking everywhere but you.

“You’re right.” You stand up, taking his empty plate from his hands, “Thank you.” You leave him standing there to go wash the dishes, cringing at yourself. Your mind was wandering, thinking about Joel in a way you hadn’t before. You couldn’t tell if it was in the heat of the moment because of him changing the patrols around or if you’d always felt this way, hidden inside you, scared to ruin your friendship.

He was sitting on the couch when you went back out, his posture drooped. He looked up when you walked in, his lips parting to let out a sigh. “Can I confess?”

You stop in front of him. “Confess what?”

He seems to debate something in his head, his eyes close and his head falls into his hands. “I thought it was a heat of the moment thing… I tried to stop, but I just can’t stop thinking about you.” He rambles, almost looking in pain to admit such a thing.

“I think that’s the most I’ve heard you say in one go.” You joke, stifling a smile. He looks up at you unimpressed, shaking his head. You frown, “Joel… I don’t know what to say. Is it a bad thing?”

He looks at you again, “What?” A log falls in the fireplace.

“Is it a bad thing that you think about me?” You clarify, shrugging your shoulders.

He thinks for a moment, pursing his lips gently. “Depends.” He finally answers, looking into your eyes.

You smile awkwardly, breaking eye contact. “I’ve been thinking about you too. And it doesn’t annoy me as much as I’d expect it to.” You tease.

Joel shakes his head, but you see a small smile. It tugs at your heart, taking you by surprise. In a moment of confidence and slight lust, you sit down next to each other, thighs brushing. You look at each other for a moment, studying every feature, every dimple, every colour. And then he kisses you.

His lips are soft against yours, and more skilled than you expected of him, his tongue pushing through your lips and into your mouth, metaphorically and literally taking away your breath. You lean away from him, laughing softly before taking him in another kiss, this one more desperate and messy than the one before.

His hands rake up your thighs, moving over the dip between your hips and ribs then moving up to the side of your breasts, his fingers barely touching them. You move your torso to the side, forcing his hand to cup you, the unexpected gesture causing him to moan in your mouth, his hand subconsciously squeezing you harder.

Whilst his hands move up your body, mapping out every curve, your own hands sneak their way over his belt, skilfully unbuckling it before you suddenly stop. Joel stops kissing you but stays close, panting. “You can.” He whispers, so you continue.

In a matter of seconds, both of you are practically naked, only confined in your underwear. You palm him through his boxers, his cock already rock hard and throbbing under your heavy touch. He pushes you further down onto the couch, caging you down between his arms. Your hips move upwards, almost chasing his cock, silently begging for him to fuck you, a plea he listens to.

He reaches behind you and unclasps your bra, throwing it to the side on the floor. He immediately moves down to take your hardened nipple in his mouth, twirling it around with his tongue before closing his mouth around it, sucking gently. You arch up into his mouth, using your feet to push down his boxers, his cock springing out of the confinement.

He moves closer to you, one hand on the armrest behind your head, bracing himself up. His cock teases you, the head of him pushing against your underwear, leaving a spot of wetness where precum had dripped down. One of your hands delicately pushes your panties to the side, the other moves to his cock, moving up and down the thick length of him a few times before you take your hand away, moving down to rub your clit.

He pushes inside of you tentatively, stopping every couple of seconds to allow you to adjust around him, having not had anyone fuck you for a while. He whispered in your ear, soothing you and praising you for taking him so well, his spare hand rubbing your thigh, whilst your fingers moved slowly against your clit still, small moans spilling out your mouth.

He gave you a little while to breathe after he pushed himself as far as he could inside you, despite being desperate to fuck you how he wanted. “Take your time.” He whispered, shaking his head at you.

You nod at him, closing your eyes in ecstasy at the mere feeling of him. “You can move now.” Your legs tighten around his waist, pulling him closer to you as he starts to roll his hips, moving slowly at first, allowing you to feel every stroke. You moan breathlessly in his ear, your hands raking up his back, digging your nails into his skin hard enough to leave a mark. He fucks you harder, pulling out almost completely and then pushing his way back inside you, the sound of your skin slapping together and your moans filling the otherwise quiet room.

You can feel your orgasm tearing its way through your body with every rough thrust Joel delivers, his pubic hair grazes your clit adding to the growing pressure. You whisper in his mouth you’re going to cum, your legs start to shake. The intensity of his thrusts slow down a bit, becoming unrhythmic and sloppy, his own release making its way through.

With a final few hard pushes inside you and gasps of pleasure, you cum, your muscles tensing up and squeezing around his cock, effectively causing his own orgasm to hit him. Joel manages to pull out in time, his cum spurting out onto your pussy. He breathes in deeply, a shaky breath, and then he’s kissing you gently, softer, brushing your hair out of your face as you come down from the high.

You sleep together for the first time in one bed, limbs tangled and breaths in sync as the night fades away into a new Dawn.

#joel tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller #joel smut #joel x reader #tlou #tlou part 2 #tlou smut #tlou hbo #joel miller smut #joel the last of us #smut

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teddy-bear-naps-and-random-snaps · 11 months

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thevillainswhore · 1 year

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A Wolf In Sheep’s Clothing

Pairing: Dark!Steve Kemp x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: It was an art - one that took many years and many sacrifices to perfect, and Steve had managed to become a master at it. There was just one thing he would not fully commit to sacrificing, at least not the important parts that kept life essence flowing: you.

Warnings: THIS IS A DARK FIC - PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS - dead dove, kidnapping, mentions of smut (p in v), fingering and oral (fem receiving), implied non-con, degradation, restraints, physical abuse (face slapping), cannibalism (it’s Steve kemp what did you expect?), force feeding, hints of Stockholm syndrome?

A/N: Unbeta’d | dividers created by @rookthorne thank you for also helping me with the summary my love 🥰 | this oneshot was inspired by the lovely @smutconnoisseur who made me this absolutely stunning moodboard 😭 I just knew I had to write something as soon as I saw it. Thank you so much sweetie, loves you the most 🥹

“Let me go, you fucking psycho!”

Steve merely kept on humming to himself, happily slicing the meat in front of him into finely cut pieces. It took severe attention to detail to finesse the glide of the knife just right, cutting through as smooth as butter.

It had taken quite a long time to get his craft on the line of perfection - years in the making - and now that he’d finally mastered the art, it was as easy as riding a bike. The rush of adrenaline spiking his nerves gave him a hit unlike anything else in his life. This was what he was meant for. He’d wasted so much time not giving in before.

Wooden screeching against the floor snapped him out of his inner musings, eyes lifting up to see you fidgeting in your chair - presumably trying to escape, but the chains attached to your feet would keep you rooted.

Steve couldn’t help but notice how the glow of the candlelight surrounding you on the dinner table highlighted the beauty in the features of your face. Sunset orange dancing among the shadows, defining your cheekbones and your shoulders decorated in the straps of a pretty dress.

You were so beautiful. Perfect for him.

Placing the meat onto a skillet to cook, Steve wiped his hands and rounded the corner of the kitchen island to join you, the sudden bravado you had earlier evaporating while terror took over your body. His cock shouldn’t have gotten hard seeing the tears gathering on your lash line, but those glassy eyes reminded him of a deer in fright, ready to run. And fuck, would he love the chase.

“Bambi… join me.”

It was haunting, the kind smile Steve let loose as he held out his hand to you after arriving by your side. No wasn’t an answer, and you did well to stand up on your shaky legs - from still recovering or fear, he wasn’t sure - quietly proud of you either way.

Flashbacks of you clumsily tripping over the bed to go relieve yourself on the toilet crossed his mind as he brought you to the middle of the living room. After fucking you three times in one night, leaving you screaming his name and begging for more each time, he couldn’t help be prideful watching you stumble your way out of the room. Just like a doe learning to walk for the first time.

Of course, the chains rattling with each step you took while limping weren’t part of the memory. The heavy breaths were familiar though, smirk crawling onto his face as he imagined your adorable squeaks while he ate your cunt like he was man starved.

Once Steve had directed you into the middle of the living room rug, he brought you closer to him, slipping his arm over your waist as you flinched, and grabbing your other hand to hold as he began to slowly dance. He was thoughtful enough to keep his steps light and be extra careful with you.

Deciding it was too much of a distraction for you a long time ago, Steve had decided to forego music in the house - it let your mind switch off and he wanted your brain alert… in the present. Solely on him and every move he made. So, he graced you with his singing voice instead, whispering the lyrics to ‘Restless Heart’ in your ear.

Steve felt the shaking of your chest before your uncontrollable sobs cut through his singing. He’d be offended had he no clue how scared his Bambi was.

“What’s wrong, Bambi? Huh? Don’t you like it here with me?”

“I w-want to go h-home.” You stuttered.

Steve sighed and lifted your head up with his palms, kissing your forehead and leaning down to your watery eyeline to speak to you directly.

“Oh, baby…” his condescending tone gave away his faux concern for you, “you know I can’t let you do that.”

You began to heave, breaths coming in fast and heavy with panic - Steve almost felt a crack in his heart. Almost.

Truth be told, Steve knew you were it for him. Ever since he first saw you from the corner of his eye walking down the fruit and vegetable aisle, he’d been bewitched.

Youthful, tight skin, good looking.

You ticked all the boxes for him… and the rest of his client base.

He’d caught other women before - gorgeous, just the right amount of meat on their thighs to keep the buyers happy.

They were good. However, they didn’t compare to you.

Normally, Steve would be excited to find new prey. The cat and mouse play of picking out women to cut up and sell. But, you were different. Steve wanted you all for himself.

See, you weren’t just a pretty face, you were witty, funny, intelligent - maybe not smart enough to see what was coming, but he didn’t hold that against you, he was just too conniving after all.

And those goddamn dates he took you on, paving the path for his plan to come to fruition, when he found himself enjoying your company. Steve wanted to spend all of his time with you, willingly.

That was when he decided he didn’t want to go along with his usual plans. Instead, he wanted to date you. See where this relationship could go.

So, he took you to his house tucked away in a secluded area - the excuse of wanting a weekend without the modern world bothering you in disguise of your questioning to the lack of signal or Wi-Fi.

Honestly, he didn’t initially plan to drug you. The opportunity just… sprung onto him. Too tempting to not listen to his base instincts and ignore the spiked wine hidden in the alcohol cabinet.

A voice in the back of his head told him he shouldn’t be doing that, he vividly remembered it. The urge to get a kick out of his charades with someone as good as you overpowered it, though.

Steve wasn’t proud of himself afterwards, but how could he be blamed? He’d worked out a successful routine before he stumbled on you. Wooing girls fitting his mental meat quality checklist and eventually luring them into his second home. It was only natural to follow his instincts, what he’d made of himself.

You especially weren’t happy when you found yourself on his home operating table, opening your eyes to realise your boyfriend was taking your ass.

Weirdly, he didn’t find guilt in the thrill he took from that - that seemed to sicken you the most. He remembered how you lunged for him, screaming about the insanity of his pleasures when you woke up after the surgery to find him sitting in your caged prison. Cutting into your delicate skin to watch the stream of blood flow down your rump to then hearing him laughing to himself as he showed you the flesh stolen away from your body had your head spinning - dangling it from his fingers in front of your face.

It wasn’t too long after that you passed out from overexertion. If only you knew the way he used you to take care of himself after that.

It may have been confusing to understand, but Steve genuinely thought the world of you. Those few months of dating spent together changed his mind on whether he’d find a companion ever again.

Finding love alongside Steve’s hobby had been difficult to put it lightly. His first wife knew of his side activities coinciding with his doctoral career. That was why he settled being with her, someone who was accepting of who he was. But, although she may have put up with what he was doing, she didn’t initiate that spark within Steve - that buried, deep seated fire that begged to be set free. Steve wanted to be seen, to be loved in his entirety.

There was no shame in that.

That was what led to the downfall of his marriage, Steve was no longer interested in the farce of keeping up appearances with a woman who didn’t truly understand him. Which is why she had to go. Just divorcing wasn’t an option, she knew too much.

Then came along you. His pretty doe, who captured his heart from a glance.

As your hysteria whittled on, Steve hugged you tight to his chest.

He’d kept you here for a month in total now. Four glorious weeks of spending time with you alone, bonding together. Your feistiness only made his cock grow in his slacks whenever you put up a fight.

His little doe didn’t put out easy - just how he liked it.

As your tears continued to soak his dress shirt further, he shushed your cries, keeping you close and he swayed side to side in comfort.

The beeping of the oven hob, interrupted Steve’s attempt at soothing you. The meat was cooked and it was time to plate up the dinner he’d made for the two of you.

Bringing you away from his chest, Steve smoothed your hair behind your ears, wiping his thumbs under your swollen eyes to get rid of your tears. Holding your arm, he again directed you back towards the table to sit down, clamped your hands back into the cuffs attached before walking towards the kitchen.

Peaking over, Steve noticed you had calmed down and collected yourself by the time he was adding the peppermint sauce over the mashed potatoes and meat.

He had high hopes on your opinion of his cooking, what you thought mattered to him, believe it or not. It was his real passion beside becoming a plastic surgeon, and he wanted you of all people to like it.

Gracefully, Steve walked on over with his finished plates and set one on each placemat. Your head was bowed, eyes set on the meal set in front of you.

“What is it?”

Your mousy voice spoke up and had Steve looking down at you, lifting your chin up with two fingers so he could see your face.

“Your favourite, sweetheart. Steak and mashed potato.”

A shudder racked through your body as Steve smirked, dropping your face and grabbing the large napkin to fan out over your thighs. He smoothed the material over your legs and traced the tips of his fingers along your bare skin. The sight of you inching away didn’t sit well with Steve, pinching you to hear that familiar yelp he loved so much.

He began to get settled in his seat, combing his styled hair back with his fingers before beginning to cut up the meat on his plate.

“You remember our dinner date don't you, baby? You ordered the exact same thing when the waiter asked. Poor boy couldn’t keep his eyes to himself when I made you speak as I fucked you with my fingers.”

Steve knows you didn’t want him to hear the gasp that couldn’t be kept in. Adorable. You were still so shy around him.

But he didn’t appreciate how long your silence lingered, looking up to see you still staring down at your food, untouched.

The knife clashing down on the plate made you jump in your seat. You didn’t want to eat, no bother. Steve would help you.

Stabbing a cut of meat with his fork, Steve carefully leaned over the table to hold the steak up to your mouth for you to take a bite.

“Open up, my little doe.”

Steve saw your mouth opening up, happy to see you were cooperating with his request. You were finally making progress. Only for you to suddenly move your head to the side as he got close and bite down onto his hand, hard.

The fury built up in Steve as he snatched his hand away, fork scattering onto the table as he released it. In instant retaliation, Steve backhanded you across the face, sending your head whipping over to the side as blood spurted out your mouth.

“Bad girl.”

Blood from the force of his hit trickled down the corner of your mouth. You hadn’t moved from your spot for a second before Steve grabbed the front of your neck, bringing you closer over the table and ignoring your squeak of pain.

“Now, eat what I so graciously cooked you before I fucking force it down your throat.” His spit from the anger of his voice shot out onto your face. Steve shoved you back before slumping into his own seat once again.

His hot and cold nature always had you on edge, but you were used to it by now. Is that what he really deserved after being so thoughtful to you?

Steve observed you closely. Watching your every move should you try something like that again. Only would you get away with something like that once.

You picked up the fork dropped, meat still intact on the silverware and inspected it thoroughly. He knew you were looking for hints of poison or something that indicated he’d drugged you. He threatened it enough times for you to be wary.

He wasn’t sure what you would have preferred once you found out.

Opening your mouth, you placed the meat tenderly onto your tongue and closed to begin eating.

Steve waited until you had swallowed. Intently watching you chew before you were finished with your bite. He gave it a second before sitting back up, taking the fork from you and stabbing another piece, ready to start his meal.

Not before letting you in on his secret ingredient. “I always said you tasted good, didn’t I, Bambi?”

Cold dread visibly washed over your face as you went deadly quiet. Your hands began to abnormally shake. Steve just sat there and watched as your body went into emotional turmoil.

There wasn’t much you could have done, chained to the table, hyperventilating. It wasn’t even as if you could have stuck your fingers down your throat to throw it back up, fingers too far out of reach to even try. It didn’t stop you from dry heaving over the side of the table, retching loudly.

Eventually, the panic your body sent you in, along with your howling cries from despair allowed you to get worked up enough to throw up. Regurgitated meat mixed with bile landing on the carpet as Steve carried on eating - unfazed.

It took you a while for your body to finally relax, for your mind to comprehend what Steve just made you do. Sweat dripped down your face as you forced your body back upright, too weak to fully keep your eyes open as you hoarsely spoke.

“Why are you doing this?”

You looked defeated, body slumped with dark circles under your eyes, shivering like Steve hadn’t cranked the heating up.

Steve wiped his mouth. He understood you were an acquired taste, not for the lightheaded - you’d get used to it eventually though. He thought you were delicious, cleaning up his plate entirely.

He looked directly into your eyes after he finished eating, voice devoid of emotion. “Isn’t it obvious? I love you.”

Your reply is instant “No, you don’t.”

Darkness blackered his pupils. Body still and uptight as he went still. Steve pushed his plate away and leaned his forearms onto the table, never stopping staring as you squirmed in your seat.

“Don’t you ever question my love for you again. Do you hear me?”

You swallowed the presumed lump in your throat.

Steve couldn’t understand how you didn’t know how much he cared for you. You were here, eating in his dining room. He’d sacrificed customer sales by keeping you to himself. He loved you. You’d understand one day though. He’d make sure of it.

“Give it time, Bambi. I know you’ll learn to love me back.”

“And if I don’t?” There was one last inch of life in your eyes, a thin thread of hope holding on for dear life. Steve could see it clear as day, the embers in your irises dying out with each moment he took to answer.

He knew he had you then, the gut punch of his response blowing out the flame once and for all.

“Funny… you think you have a choice.”

#steve kemp x reader #steve kemp x female reader #steve kemp x f!reader #steve kemp smut #dark!steve kemp #dark!steve kemp x reader #steve kemp x y/n #Steve kemp x reader smut #dark!Steve kemp x f!reader #dark!steve kemp x y/n #dark!steve kemp x reader smut #dark Steve kemp #Steve kemp x you

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hiveworks · 1 year

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Convention Guide: Basic Tabling Gear

September 2023

Whether you’re an artist alley newbie or you’ve been doing the convention circuit for years, putting together your table essentials is a crucial part of selling your wares at events and ensuring your weekend goes smoothly. In this guide, we’re covering the basics of setting up your first ever table.

This list is a non comprehensive assessment of things a tabler might need and should be used as a simple starting point. The four main categories we will cover are:

The Display

Behind the Table

Money

Quality of Life Suggestions

—🐝—

1. The Display

a) Tablecloth

Starting from the base layer, we’ve got tablecloths– an easy way to add some color and personality to your table. Your tablecloth doesn’t even have to be an actual tablecloth! You can use a length of fabric cut from a bolt at your local craft store. Convention tables tend to be 6’ long, so when selecting your fabric, look for measurements longer than 72” (183cm).

Play with color and texture to find something that fits the theme of your work on display. Patterns can be fun, but might distract from your inventory or signage if the colors/design are too bold and busy. Tip: your cloth may get messy from food behind the scenes or dust/dirt if you do outdoor events. Get something that’s easy to wash in your machine!

b) Display supports

Most artists these days use cube organizers that break apart into flat panels and connector joints. They are easy to store when not in use, easy to transport in a suitcase or tote, and you can change the shape depending on your table set up and inventory. Tip: constructing your display to include shelves that face you behind the table helps organize your backstock during the show.

These cubes aren’t your only option. Some people use milk crates, picture frames, wooden boxes, custom built shelves, etc. Consider what works best for you, your aesthetic, and your storage/transportation needs. When in doubt, you can always lay your goods flat on the table.

c) Signage

Having clear signage on your items to denote price helps people feel more comfortable purchasing from your table. Your price markers don’t have to be fancy. Prices written neatly on pieces of paper and paperclipped to your books or taped up next to your stickers is a simple and effective strategy. Some people print out a price list or use a sign board. It’s totally up to you!

Include a sign with your name somewhere in your display, including your social media handle if it is different from your artist name. This will help fans of your work more easily recognize you. Tip: use a QR code prominently displayed on your table that links to your portfolio, linktree, etc.

d) Banner/backdrop

Look out behind you! Whether it’s a banner, a backdrop, or something else, the space behind your seat can be put to use. While it is relatively easy to print custom banners at most print shops, many tablers cite this as an unnecessary expense, especially for first time artist alley participants. If you’d like to hang a collage of your work behind you, look for photography backdrop tripods, which can collapse and fold up neatly. The behind-the-table space is shared with other artists, and it can get cramped. Be mindful of your needs when deciding how to do a backdrop. Some artists opt to exclude a backdrop and just use their cubes to arch over them.

Optional: Decorate your table! Flowers, string lights, plushies, etc. can all bring a special one of a kind experience to your set up.

2. Behind The Table

a) Inventory

Now that we’re behind the table, let’s talk about what’s going on back here. Starting with inventory. If you’re absolutely unsure how much to bring, a good starting number is about 10 of each item. If you sell out, congratulations! You’ll know what to bring more of next time, or you’ll know you should raise your prices. For storing inventory during transportation to the con and while at the show, you might consider simple boxes, an accordion folder, or a portfolio case, depending on what kind of items you’re bringing. Reminder: if you’re using display cubes, structuring them to give you shelves on your side of the table will help you keep things organized.

b) Suitcase/storage tote

Under your feet will be your suitcase/tote box, and perhaps a dolly, if you used one to wheel your boxes into the building. It is recommended that your suitcase/tote has a lock on it, as you’ll be leaving inventory overnight. Hopefully no matter what you use, it has wheels of some kind. All this gear gets heavy. If you are not using a wheeled device, make sure to check your pack’s weight as you assemble your supplies. You will have to carry it from the parking garage or bus stop through the convention center, and back out again at the end of the show.

c) Cover cloth

What else is in that box? Your cover cloth. This one is optional, but some artists like having a lightweight cloth to cover their table when the day is done. Something like a vinyl picnic tablecloth works perfectly. The cover cloth helps prevent anyone from accidentally knocking your things over or having things go missing.

d) Business cards

On your side of the table, you ought to have plenty of back up business cards. You’ll have some of these out on the table for passersby to pick up, but this item is the number one thing you’re going to hand out the most of. It’s always better to have too many rather than too few. For a single three day convention, you might need 200+ cards. Make sure your website/online shop is easy to find on your cards. Cute business cards go a long way to making your table memorable long after the con has ended.

Bonus supplies: Here’s a short list of things you might need throughout the weekend to touch up your display. Keep them in a bag and bring them with you every time you table!

Masking and clear tape

Spare paper for impromptu signage

Sharpies and pens

Zip ties

Scissors

3. Money

a) Card reader

The most commonly used card reader is Square, but there are alternatives. Research their fees and prices to determine what fits your needs. You’ll want to get a hold of a card reader and set up your account well in advance of your show. Card readers require wifi/data to work and will only work in your country of business, so take that into consideration when packing for your show. Most convention halls have wifi (sometimes at a cost), but if your show is outdoors you might be relying on data.

b) Cash/change

Cash is king! Make sure to bring enough cash/change for your show. About $25-50 in small bills is usually enough if you’re also accepting card. At the end of the day, consider tucking your big bills away in a secure location in your hotel room. If something were to happen to your bag, you’ll appreciate not having your entire weekend’s earnings in it!

c) Fanny pack

Keeping your cash attached to you at all times is smart. People often use fanny packs or cross body bags to manage their money.

4. Quality of Life

a) Backup battery

Since you may be using your phone to complete transactions, or maybe you’re drawing on your iPad with time to kill, you’ll want to bring a back up battery. Most tables don’t have access to electricity, so having a battery and charging cables is a good idea.

b) Hand sanitizer & masks

One hand sani pump out front and one behind the table. You’ll be handling money, shaking hands with strangers, and touching surfaces that thousands of people have been touching all day. As long as there have been conventions, there have been con plagues. You don’t want to get knocked out with a cold (or worse) so masking is great!

c) Table buddy

If you’re able to, bring a friend to help you table. Cons will often give tablers 2 passes (one for you and one for a friend). They can help you grab coffee or lunch, get change, package a big purchase, cover you for bathroom breaks, etc. Table buddies are truly the unsung heroes of artist alley.

d) No table buddy? No problem.

Check in with con staff and volunteers. Many comic cons will have a green room for artists to take a snack break and decompress, and con staff will help guide you there. Some conventions also enlist volunteers to help sit your table while you’re away. They’ll make sure your table stays in order, direct people to your business cards, and inform curious patrons when to expect you back.

e) Fun stuff!

There will be plenty of downtime. Con hours are long and often slow in the mornings. Bring something to keep you occupied, but not too engrossed, so you can easily pull away to greet customers and fans. Fidget toys, a puzzle book, knitting or crochet project are all great ideas.

f) Get Comfy, Eat Well, Stay Hydrated

Going from your quiet desk to the high octane energy of artist alley can be a shock to the system. Some items to help reduce the fatigue are: noise canceling headphones during downtime and breaks, sunglasses to combat the fluorescent lights and rest your eyes, slippers or comfy shoes for under the table, and layers of clothing. Convention halls can fluctuate temperatures wildly. With lots of AC during the summer, sweaty crowds, and the flow of traffic to your table, you’ll be working up a sweat fulfilling transactions one second then freezing after sitting still for a minute.

Most importantly, have a small cooler with snacks and drinks. You may not get a break, but it’s important to stay hydrated and energized.

—🐝—

The next time you're at a convention, take note of displays that inspire you. #ArtistAlley and #ConTable tags on Instagram or TikTok can connect you with creators sharing their setups. Your table design is an opportunity to be creative and express yourself, while also learning along the way what works for you. Most tables, however, are built up over several convention seasons of trial and error, so while it’s good to take note of others' displays as a source of inspiration, try to keep your first table relatively simple. The more you table, the more you’ll be able to identify your needs for you and your merchandise.

We’ll close out this blog post with one final suggestion. Big, multi-day conventions can be fun, but they can also be expensive. Your tabling supplies and inventory aside, if you’re doing a show away from home, you’ll contend with table fees (often $250-450 USD), hotel, transportation, meals, etc. And not every convention is a good fit for your wares! Small, local events and art festivals are a great, low stakes, relatively cheap (or free) way to start tabling. Check your area for zine fests, queer makers markets, and craft fairs.

Sound off if there’s anything we missed! Good luck on your tabling adventures.

#tabling #convention #comic con #artist alley #hiveworks #blog

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