#ending the year with an appearance from Joey!

[pokemon-npcs]

In all the rematches you can have with Joey, he never once has another pokémon than his Rattata (later Raticate).

I guess Joey realized that he loved his Rattata more than enough and didn't want any more pokémon after all

[cjlouwho]

The Dinner

This is going to end up being a 4 part series on Meeting the Parents, where each part can be read individually. You can read on ao3, or continue below.

It was a few months after the wedding before Margaret and Phillip could get back to Los Angeles for another visit. They arrived two days before Halloween, wanting to go around the neighborhood trick or treating with Jee. It was the first year she'd really understand the holiday, and they were excited to experience it with her.

On their first night in town, Tommy and Buck were coming over for dinner.

While Tommy had briefly met them at the wedding, it wasn't more than a handshake and a hello before Jee was pulling her grandparents in one direction, and Evan was pulling him in another.

And now Buck was playing with Jee in the living room while Tommy helped plate the rolls.

“How do you feel about officially meeting the Buckley parents, Thomas?” Chimney asked, leaning against the counter.

“I was fine until Evan woke me up with a powerpoint presentation on what to and not to do.”

Maddie, who was fiddling at the table, looked over at Buck. “He's joking, right?”

Buck shook his head. “You can never be too prepared.”

Maddie rolled her eyes before turning to Tommy, a smile on her face. “Don't worry about it, Tommy. They've mellowed a lot over the past few years. Not perfect, obviously, but better.”

“Is that why you've reset the table five times?” Chimney asked, grabbing a bottle of wine from the fridge.

“Hush.” She tilted her head, staring at the centerpiece before moving it slightly to the left. “Seriously, Tommy. You'll be fine.”

There was a knock, and Jee squealed as she jumped up and ran to the door.

Everyone trailed after her, Tommy moving to Buck's side.

After a prolonged hello to Jee, they greeted Maddie and Howie before moving on to Buck.

“Hi Mom, Dad,” he said, a hug for his mom and handshake for his dad. “You remember-”

“Thomas,” Tommy interrupted, holding out his hand to Margaret first. “Nice to see you again, Mr. and Mrs. Buckley.”

Buck but at his lip, trying to prevent himself from bursting into laughter. It was so interesting seeing Tommy like this. He was usually so calm, cool, and collected. His nerves very rarely appeared, so it was like a special treat when they did.

“Oh, come here,” Margaret said, bypassing his hand and wrapping him in a hug.

Tommy returned it, looking at Chimney with wide eyes.

Chimney himself looked surprised too, which felt like a good sign.

Once Margaret was finished, Phillip shook Tommy's hand. “Good to see you too, Thomas.”

They settled in and Tommy took what felt like the first breath since this morning. Maddie grinned at him with two thumbs up, which made him feel even more relaxed.

He'd never been so anxious to meet the parents of someone he was with before. Honestly, he'd only done it a couple of times. Once in high school, when he met the parents of the girl he took to prom. She ended up ditching him for her friends about halfway through the dance, so he never had to see them again.

Then there was Joey's parents. A guy he'd dated on and off after he first came out. They were... not a good match, but he just so happened to be at Joey's house when his mom showed up out of the blue. One awkward brunch later, he and Joey broke up for good a few minutes after she walked out the door.

Maybe that's why he was so nervous. The two times he'd met someone's parents, it ended in a breakup.

He couldn't think like that right now though.

Everything would be fine. He could do this.

*****

Dinner went surprisingly smooth. Most of the attention had been on Jee during dinner, but she got bored before dessert and headed into her bedroom to play.

That's when the questions started coming in.

“So, Thomas, Ev- Buck mentioned you also work for the fire department,” Margaret began, “but at a different station?”

Tommy nodded. “Yes, Ma'am. I'm a pilot at Harbor Station. It's about twenty minutes from the 118... or an hour with the traffic,” he added, getting a laugh from both Buckley parents.

“Dangerous job,” Phillip noted. “Rewarding though, I'm sure.”

“Oh, yes, Sir. Very rewarding.”

“So, you and Buck don't ever really get to see each other at work?” Margaret asked.

“Sometimes. I work ground ops every once in a while and we'll see each other. But when I am in the air, Evan likes to take pictures and send them to me,” he added, smiling over at Buck.

Margaret and Phillip shared a glance. Even out of the corner of Buck's eye, he could see his parents looking at one another. He knew they were silently discussing the fact that Tommy gets away with calling him by his given name. Something he'd steadfastly reminded them not to do.

He waited, heartbeat rising, for them to bring it up.

Instead, Margaret smiled. “So, how'd you two meet?”

"He flew us through a hurricane to rescue Cap and Athena."

"Buck." Maddie eyed him, a silent why would you say that?

He knew how protective his parents were. How they hated to think of him in danger. How saying something like that could cause tension between all of them, especially with Tommy.

Buck simply shrugged. "It's true."

"It's alright," Margaret reassured them. "Phillip and I are learning to come to terms with the fact that the job Buck has is a dangerous one. But life's a risk, right? We- We know you're taking every precaution to be safe."

Tommy reached out and rested his hand on Buck's thigh. "Yes," he agreed. "And technically we didn't fly through the hurricane, we flew through the outskirts of a hurricane."

"And Tommy's overly qualified," Chimney chimed in, for good measure. "That's why I asked him to take us. It's also why I claim to be matchmaker."

"Well, seeing as you're all in one piece," Phillip said, folding his hands on the table. "Why don't you tell us more about this helicopter-matchmaking adventure?"

The conversation continued for a while. It wasn't all focused on Tommy, thankfully. They went around the table swapping stories and sharing anecdotes. They never even batted an eye when Tommy moved his hand to Evan's back, rubbing softly. He did it almost unconsciously, nearly freezing up when he realized it. He had been told that the Buckley's weren't homophobic. But it was one thing to not care with other people, and another to not care with your own kid. However, their reaction, or lack thereof, was the final confirmation that Tommy needed to know everything was okay and they truly didn't mind.

*****

When it was time for Jee to head to bed, she demanded Uncle Tommy fly her to the room like a “helichopter” so, of course, he did. Then she demanded her mommy, daddy, and Uncle Buck read her a story together, so Tommy headed back out to the living room with the Buckley's to sit and chat.

“She calls you Uncle Tommy,” Margaret said, nearly beaming.

Tommy smiled. “Yeah, that started a couple months ago. I think she knows it's a surefire way to get me to say yes to whatever she asks. Evan jokes me about it all the time.”

“Okay, I have to ask-”

“Margaret,” Phillip warned.

She waved him off. “I'm just asking.” She leaned in close, almost like she was about to reveal some deep, dark secret.

Tommy sure hoped that wasn't it. He'd heard all about their last deep, dark secret.

“He lets you call him Evan. How'd you manage that?”

Tommy fought to hide his grin. “That's how he introduced himself when we met,” he explained. “Once I realized no one else ever called him that, I tried calling him Buck, but he gave me a funny look and told me to stick with Evan.”

Tommy knew Evan didn't hate his name. Knew others called him by it sometimes. He also knew that his parents calling him Buck was important to him. A way to show they were finally listening to what he wanted, and they were respecting him.

Tommy almost expected this to be where the trouble came in. Maybe this is where the Buckley's stuck up their nose and asked what made him so special? Evan had warned him about it during the presentation that morning.

They didn't do that though. Instead they looked... happy? Excited even.

“You a basketball fan?” Phillip asked, opting for a change of subject.

“Yes, Sir. Love it.”

“Professional or college?”

“I prefer professional, but I watch both.”

“I've been wanting to go to a game for years, but it's a little boring to go alone. We're coming back in a couple months for another visit. You and I should find a game.”

“I'd love that.” Tommy couldn't seem to agree fast enough. The fact that his boyfriend's dad actually wanted to hang out and spend time with him made him feel like he was in a dream world. “I think the Lakers usually play in Vegas that time of year. I could fly us out for a game,” he offered with a shrug. “I go there pretty regularly.”

“Uh oh,” Margaret joked. “Wrong thing to say. He'll be taking you up on those offers all the time.”

“That's fine with me,” Tommy assured her. “I love to fly. Evan and I go on little trips every time we have a few days off together. He's always finding new places for us to go within a couple hours of here.”

“Tell you what,” Phillip said, tipping his beer toward Tommy, “you fly us there, the tickets are on me.”

“Oh, you don't-”

“No, no. I insist.”

“Just nod and say okay,” Margaret faux-whispered.

Tommy laughed, but nodded. “Okay. Sounds good.”

“Good. Now, if you'll excuse me,” Phillip said, setting his beer on the coffee table before he went to stand. “I need to use the restroom. Be right back.”

Once Phillip had rounded the corner to head down the hall, Margaret scooted closer to Tommy, a smile playing on her face. “You don't go by Thomas, do you?”

Tommy let out a breathy laugh. “No, Ma'am. No, I don't.”

She nodded. “I figured. Tommy, then, right?”

“Yes, Ma'am. Thomas is fine though, if you prefer it.”

She reached over and patted him on the arm. “No, Tommy is what you go by, Tommy is what you'll be called. And please, call me Margaret, and my husband Phillip. No need for formalities.”

“Yes, Ma'- Margaret.”

“You're a good man, Tommy,” she said, her face serious but sincere. “You're good for Buck.”

Tommy could feel his heart swell. “I'd argue he's good for me.”

“You're good for each other,” she compromised. “I've never seen him so happy, so settled. He may think I don't know him, and maybe I don't as well as I should, but I know that.” A happy blush rose on her cheeks. “I have a funny feeling you'll be calling us Mom and Dad sometime soon.”

Tommy felt overwhelmed. He'd never expected her to say anything like that, but he loved the sound of it. He was right near having to blink back tears as Buck walked out into the living room. “Jee caught Dad on his way out from the bathroom,” he said to his mom. “She's asking for you now.”

“Off I go,” Margaret said with a giggle, giving Tommy another pat before she got up and left.

Buck sat down beside Tommy, tilting his head when he saw the dazed expression on his face.

“You okay?” he asked, wrapping Tommy's arm up in his.

Tommy smiled at him, then leaned over and gave him a kiss.

“Mm,” Buck moaned in surprise, the kiss ending with a pop. “What was that for?”

“I just... I've had a really good night. And I love you.”

Buck snuggled closer to him, laying his head on his shoulder. “I love you too.”

As he rested there, Buck went over the night in his head. There had been no awkward moments. No moments where Buck felt embarrassed or upset.

Tommy never had to defend him or himself.

They had even managed to be alone with Tommy for an extended period and Tommy seemed... happy about it?

His parents actually got along with Tommy really well.

Buck was glad.

He was glad his parents liked Tommy.

There was no problem.

He wasn't jealous at all.

Honest.

[comphy-and-cozy]

One Night Standards - Anthony Beauvillier

Pairing: Anthony Beauvillier x fem!OC

Summary: Country music sensation and Nashville sweetheart Harper Mitchell just got out of a very public, very messy breakup. She doesn't want a relationship, and, fortunately for her, Anthony Beauvillier won't be around long enough to start one. All of the makings of a perfect arrangement... right?

Word Count: 9K

Author’s Note: My first ever Beau fic!! Written for @offside-the-lines for @wyattjohnston's Summer Fic Exchange! Rox, I had a blast creating this universe for you and hope that you enjoy! S/O to Demi and @smileysvech for the plot help and being ever-helpful sounding boards.

Warnings: Alcohol use/mention, cheating themes, implied smut, friends-with-benefit relationship.

NHL Masterlist | Moodboard

AMERICA’S SWEETHEARTS NO MORE: ‘MICHARDS’ SPLIT!

Sources close to country music star Harper Mitchell confirm that she has split from her boyfriend, Joey Richards of 3 years amid leaked photos of him with another woman. The Daydreamin’ in Denim singer, 27, has declined for comment. 

Harper blows a puff of air out of her lips, swiping out of Twitter. Absently, her hand moves to toy with her necklace—the one Joey had bought her to celebrate her song going Platinum. There’s a brief moment as she realizes it’s not there anymore, that she gave it to a friend of a friend so she could get it out of her house. 

It’s a simple action, miniscule in the grand scheme of her life or even her day, but it strikes her hard all the same. Within moments, her eyes are lining with tears, the all-too-familiar lump sitting heavy in her throat. She lets a tear fall before exhaling slowly. “God dammit, Joey.”

The sharp ring of her phone jolts her out of her thoughts, her agent’s name flashing across the screen beside a star emoji. When she answers, she’s greeted by a laundry list of upcoming meetings, interviews, and appearances; Harper bites back the urge to ask when she’s going to get a break.

“Don’t forget you have Erin Alvey’s album release party tomorrow night,” Candice is saying. Harper can hear the jingling of her keys as the engine turns over on the other end of the phone. “Dress code is Denim & Diamonds. I sent you a few outfit ideas and a screenshot of the details again.”

“Got it,” Harper hums, mind briefly flitting to the denim corset she has hanging in her closet. She makes a mental note to pull out a few options, even though the thought of going out in public and having to socialize makes her itch. “Will—will he be there?”

Candice pauses, and a soft almost motherly tone takes over. “No, Har. He won’t.”

Harper nods to herself, humming to let Candice know she heard. Candice continues, “There will be some press there, though. Make sure to practice up on your statements, okay? They should be focused on Erin’s album, but you know they’re looking for a reaction out of you.”

“Right,” she replies, the voice inside her head reminding her to give that man nothing. 

After reviewing a few more upcoming to do’s, Candice bids her goodbye, and once again, Harper is left alone in silence. She practices her brave face, taking a deep breath before heading to the closet to plan out her outfit; she’ll be damned if she doesn’t show up to the party hotter than ever, with no outward sign of any distress. 

———

When Filip Forsberg sent the team group chat an invitation to his wife’s album release party, Anthony had accepted quickly. Initially, he was eager to seize the opportunity to bond with some of his new teammates, but now that it’s the day of, it’s the last thing he wants to do. Still, he forces himself to pull a shirt out of one of his suitcases, tossing it in the dryer to iron out some of the wrinkles after being haphazardly chucked inside following his third trade call in two years. 

Another trade, another team, with new teammates, new facilities, new plays. At this point, he’s starting to consider himself an expert in getting traded. On one hand, he’s appreciated the opportunity to explore multiple new cities while he’s young and single. On the other, he’s noticed that he’s growing jaded, hesitant—unwilling, even, to grow attached to anything or anyone on his new team, because if he’s learned anything over the last few years, it’s that all of it is temporary. 

Anthony allows himself to mope a little bit, but it’s a text from Dante confirming that he’s going to pick him up in an hour that gives him the motivation to get his head back in the game and hop in the shower. He takes care to get himself ready; maybe, if he puts the effort in, the sting of the trade will dull. Maybe he’ll find a pretty girl to get lost in for a night. 

By the time he’s getting into Dante’s car, he’s feeling much more confident and social—the getting-ready gin and tonic he had certainly helped. He’s grateful for Barzy, even states away, for introducing him to Dante a few summers ago; the familiar face has made things a little less lonely since arriving in Nashville. 

The party is a few miles outside of the downtown area, giving Dante the chance to provide Anthony with a quick rundown of the dynamics of the team and what to expect. They joke around, make some idle chit chat, laugh about a few stupid memes. When they arrive twenty minutes later, Anthony steps out of the car with a little extra swagger in his step.

Inside, he and Dante quickly find a few of the other Predators in the corner of the room, munching on some hors d’oeuvres. They settle in, chattering about what celebrities they might see at the event. Anthony’s eyes roam, absorbing the elaborate decor, before his eyes land on a familiar face.

“Oh my God, that’s Harper Mitchell,” he whispers. “I’ve had a crush on her for years.”

Ryan raises his eyebrow, then grins at Anthony. “Really? A Frenchman like you?”

“You forget who my friends were in New York. All kinds of country boys over there,” Anthony replies, his mind flashing briefly to the country music Mat would blast in the car on the way to and from the rink. “Barzy’s gonna die when I tell him she was here.”

The group mingles, Filip eventually making his way over to greet his teammates. Anthony does his best to be conversational, staying engaged, but he can’t help but glance across the room in search of long, dark curls and skin-tight jeans. He makes a mental note to text Barzy and tell her how much hotter she looks in person. 

Dante elbows Anthony, who is conveniently mid-sip of his drink. “Dude, she’s coming over. Buck up, Romeo.”

Across the room, Harper steels herself, finding comfort in the familiar brown eyes of her longtime friend’s husband, flanked by a posse of who she presumes are teammates. Outside of attending a few games with Erin, she knows next to nothing about hockey, but she’s always been surprised at how good looking Fil’s teammates are.

“Great to see you Fil,” she says, plastering her practiced smile on her face.

“You doing okay?” he whispers into her ear as he leans in for a hug. 

The tightness in her throat returns, the heavy lump sitting firmly. Harper swallows thickly, blinking quickly to rid her eyes of the tears that threaten to bubble over. “Yep. All good.”

If Filip sees through the weak lie, he doesn’t say anything, only pulls away and gestures to the group of guys behind him, standing awkwardly as they glance around. “You remember Dante and Ryan.”

“Of course,” she nods, offering each of them a smile. Her eyes connect with Ryan. “Great goal the other night.”

“And this is Beau—Anthony Beauvillier—he’s the new guy.”

“Nice to meet you.” Harper’s eyes lock with two cerulean ones. They’re kind, warm—comforting.  “Welcome to Nashville.”

“D’you live in Abberly Foundry?” he blurts it out before he has a chance to stop himself. 

Dante sputters out a laugh. “Dude, come on. You can’t just ask her where she lives.”

Anthony blushes, looking at Harper bashfully. “N-no, I’m sorry it came out that way. I mean, I live there too. I think I’ve seen you in the lobby a few times.”

“Hopefully you haven’t seen me after a show; usually those looks are a little rough,” Harper says with a smile.

He doesn’t have the balls to tell her she looks beautiful every time he’s seen her, so he just laughs it off instead. She turns her attention toward Ryan to ask about his kids, relieving Anthony of the pressure of having to carry on the conversation; instead, he takes a breath, a long swig of his drink, and slips himself into chatter with Dante. 

Even after she walks away to brush elbows with the other Nashville starlets, blue eyes follow Harper for the rest of the night.

———

She bumps into those same blue eyes in the elevator the next day, and Anthony offers to help carry her groceries to her apartment. Fortunately for his nerves, Harper is trained in small talk, asking him about how he’s liking the city and what he’s explored so far. He feels a little lame that the answer is virtually nothing outside of a handful of restaurants and bars. 

Once he’s inside her apartment—a slightly elevated version of his own—Anthony feels like he doesn’t belong there. His eyes dart around, taking in the decor: the little blue bowl by the counter for her keys, the flowers on the coffee table, the framed Sopranos picture next to her fridge.

“Tony’s my dad,” she explains when she notices Anthony amusedly chuckling at it. 

“Good dad to have,” he comments, setting the grocery bags in his arms down onto the counter. He stands awkwardly, not sure if he should leave or offer to help. 

“Are you a Sopranos fan, too?”

“Of course,” he grins, then puts on his best Italian accent. “What, no fuckin’ ziti?”

Harper’s laugh is loud, and Anthony feels a surge of pride in his chest that he made the Harper Mitchell laugh. “Finally, a man with taste.”

“I have a hard time sleeping after games sometimes,” he explains, helping her to empty her bags, “so I’ve made my way through a lot of shows.”

Her eyes narrow as she begins to put the groceries in their respective homes. The conversation flows naturally to her, comfortable with forcing all kinds of chatter at shows and appearances. “What’s your favorite that you watched recently?”

“The Jinx for sure,” he says. “It’s one of the craziest I’ve ever seen.”

Harper’s jaw drops, and at first, Anthony is afraid he said something wrong. But then her face lights up, and her eyes grow excited. “Oh my god – the hot mic footage!?”

Anthony shakes his head in disbelief, nodding in agreement. “I know. That was a wild way to end it. And to make people wait almost 10 years for another season!?”

“I won’t lie, I’ve been in a huge Bob Durst hyperfixation lately,” she laughs, excited that someone understands her niche interest. “I’ve been listening to the podcast, too.”

Anthony leaves an hour and a half later after a full-blown discussion about Robert Durst and The Jinx, along with her number stored securely in his phone and an open invitation to come over the next time he can’t sleep (“I have a lot of late nights, too,” she’d said). The next day, he sends her a Sopranos meme, not knowing it’s the catalyst that will change the rest of his life. 

From there, a flip switches. Just like that, Harper can barely remember what life was like before Anthony arrived—and Anthony can’t fathom a Nashville without Harper. They start spending much of their free time together, which, while limited, is made much more convenient due to the fact that the commute is only a short elevator ride up four floors. The days in between are filled with text messages and voice memos, usually random thoughts sprinkled in with a recap of some movie she’d recommended or silly updates on the road.

Anthony finds himself looking for her name on his phone when he leaves the gym, keeping mental notes of her schedule to know when he should clear his own to make time for her. He brushes off teasing from his teammates, razzing him for being a lovesick fanboy. 

From the start, despite both Forsbergs digging on multiple occasions for more information, Harper never could quite put a label on the relationship she and Anthony had. She’d clocked the way his eyes flicked down to the curve of her breast, yet she also was keenly aware of the many opportunities he’d had to make a move and never had. He was cute, but she wasn’t interested in pursuing anything farther—not after Joey. She needed time to heal, to recover, to grow on her own. She’d focus on her career, write an album telling her story. And then she’d find someone.

If she was lucky, maybe Anthony would be waiting there at the end of it all.

———

It’s a few weeks into their newfound routine when Harper declines a request to hang out, informing Anthony that she’s having a girl’s night out at the bars to “celebrate her freedom”. 

While disappointed, Anthony is equally eager to have a night to himself to relax. It’s been a whirlwind few weeks adjusting to his new team, new routine, new friends. He gets takeout—Harper’s favorite Italian place just down the block—and, after calling his mom, he fires up the Playstation to lose himself in a game for a while.

A few hours later, he sets down his controller, stretching his legs out with a groan. He glances at the clock on the microwave, his mind briefly flitting to Harper, hoping that she’s drinking and dancing Joey out of her system. It feels a bit strange, he thinks, to be home on a night off and not be with her, but he knows that a night out on the town is therapeutic in a way he could never provide. 

Then, his mind starts to wander, thinking back on the times he’s heard people say that catch phrase, The best way to get over someone is to get under somebody else, and he can feel his skin crawl at the thought. His blood simmers low in his stomach, the ugly head of jealousy roaring as he pushes away the images floating into his head. 

Of course he’s attracted to Harper—who wouldn’t be? Long, dark hair, her big, brown eyes, a body that’s more fitting for a supermodel than a musical artist; she has it all, and a bubbly, quick wit that would make anyone fall in love with her. 

Not that he’s in love with her. Or even has feelings for her. They barely know each other—that would be crazy. Never mind the fact that she’s the only girl he’s really spoken to since he got to Nashville. Hell, he hasn’t even thought about opening the apps to find a girl, even though he’s sure he could pick one up with ease. 

He blames it on the season, on the craziness of yet another trade, of prepping for the playoffs. A nagging feeling inside of him knows that’s not entirely it, like part of him is whispering to himself, She’s right there, idiot.

But there's no way a girl like that could ever be interested in him—a measley, dumb jock who hasn’t had a home since New York. Harper Mitchell is far too intelligent, successful, and driven to ever give him a second glance. He doesn’t even have the money factor to give him an edge over who he presumes are his potential competitors. 

So, friendly neighbors it is.

He wrestles down the thought as he climbs into bed, though his mind is clouded with thoughts of Harper as he falls asleep.

Anthony blinks awake, taking a few moments to acclimate himself. A quick check confirms he’s in bed and it’s late—only the low light of the moon shines behind the drawn curtains. As consciousness begins to seep back in, he realizes that it’s a disjointed knocking at the door that woke him.

A glance at the clock—2:48am—has a confused grunt emerging from his throat before he’s begrudgingly dragging himself out of bed. Slipping on the pair of sweatpants he’d left in a pile on the floor, Anthony blinks more sleep out of his eyes, navigating his way to the front door.

“Harper?”

“Anthony!” she squeals, launching herself forward. Strong arms are there to catch her, leather skirt and all. “I missed you.”

He stifles a laugh, stumbling back inside his apartment and hoping she didn’t wake any of his neighbors. “Harper, did you just get home?”

It’s only when he pulls away that he notes the large brown paper bag clutched in her hand: McDonald’s. Judging by the large Diet Coke and heavenly scent of fresh fries, along with the glassiness of Harper’s eyes, Anthony deduces in short order that it’s a drunk meal. 

“Dave took me to Mickey’s,” she explains.

“Dave?”

“M’Uber driver,” Harper slurs, tugging open the brown bag and fishing out a box of chicken nuggets.

Anthony stifles a chuckle watching her dunk an entire nugget into the honey mustard sauce packet. He also realizes how little he’s clothed—he hadn’t thrown a shirt on in his sleepy march to the door. 

Pulled out of his thoughts, Anthony realizes that Harper’s chewing has slowed and that she’s unabashedly staring at his exposed torso. He watches her eyes trail along the lines of his muscle, dipping lower until the view is obscured by the thick hem of his sweatpants.

“You’re hot,” she says, bluntly. Anthony’s laugh quirks up the side of his mouth.

He figures he doesn’t have much to lose, so he says, “So are you.”

Harper flips her hair. “Do you think so?”

“I think you’re beautiful.”

In response, she dunks another nugget into the sauce. “You’re sweet.”

Anthony opens his mouth to reply when Harper’s face contorts. Her eyes widen, and she chucks the nugget out of her hand while darting into the bathroom. The door shuts behind her and he winces when he hears the muffled sound of retching.

After laughing to himself, watching the smallest hope of earning a kiss from Harper Mitchell’s pretty lips drift away, he debates whether he should offer to hold her hair back. Ultimately, he opts to pour a big glass of water, grab the Advil bottle, and find a t-shirt in his dresser drawer.

He knocks softly on the bathroom door, helping her up and leading her back to his bedroom after cleaning her up. Not exactly the way he’d envisioned Harper in his bed, but he supposes beggars can’t be choosers.

It takes a bit of wrangling and no shortage of discomfort on Anthony’s end to get Harper changed into his t-shirt, into bed, and to consume both the Advil and some of the water he poured. By the time he returns from brushing his teeth, she’s out like a light, and Anthony smiles to himself as he slides in next to her.

While it wasn’t what he had in mind initially, Anthony feels her warmth beside him and listens to the steady sound of her breathing. As he drifts off to sleep, he thinks to himself that he doesn’t mind one bit. 

———

Harper’s head pounds as soon as she opens her eyes. It takes a moment to register that she has no idea where she is, the bed and walls and curtains all unfamiliar. The space beside her in the bed is warm, but there’s nobody there. Where the fuck is she?

She racks her brain, only snippets of last night flickering into her memory. One thing she does remember are soft, blue eyes and a familiar laugh.

Anthony.

After checking herself to confirm she is, in fact, clothed, Harper sits up, almost forgetting about the splitting headache that’s threatening to ruin her day before it even begins. Massaging her temples, she groans.

“That good, huh?”

The voice startles her, and Harper glances up to see Anthony walking toward her, a steaming mug in his hand that he offers her as he approaches. He opens his palm to reveal two pills, which she accepts gratefully along with the coffee. “Thanks. How… why am I here?”

Anthony laughs. “Oh, you remember nothing, huh?”

“Oh god, what did I do?”

He fills her in on the details, from the mess of honey mustard to wrestling a t-shirt over her head to get her into bed. He does, however, decide to keep her drunken confession of attraction to him to himself. No need to divulge that yet.

“Did we… ?” Her voice is different, hesitant, and Anthony makes a mental note of it. He shakes his head, and the relief on her face nearly makes his heart crack. 

Harper laughs uncomfortably, the tension between them suddenly thick with the knowledge that both of them are thinking about the exact same thing: she doesn’t care to admit that the thought has crossed her mind prior to right now. She rubs her face with her hands with a groan. “I’m sorry. This is so embarrassing.”

Anthony waves a hand to brush it off as he says, “It’s nothing. You were… charming.” 

Her face contorts into an exaggerated expression of worry. “That sounds horrific. I don’t want to know.”

Harper lugs herself out of bed not long after, once the deep throb inside her skull subsides just slightly—though she’s not confident she’ll make it up the elevator without vomiting. Anthony doesn’t show any sign of discomfort from the social mishap from earlier, offering her an old pair of slides so she doesn’t have to make the trip back to her apartment in her heels. “For your walk of shame.”

She snorts, accepting them gratefully. “Does it count as a walk of shame if we didn’t even sleep together?”

“Well, technically we did sleep together,” Anthony says with a shoulder bump, enjoying the way her cheeks flush when he says it. 

“And now I’m leaving,” she says with another laugh, pulling open the door. “Goodbye, Anthony.”

———

Following their pseudo one night stand, Harper is grateful for a 2-day road trip that forces an extra few days to let her embarrassment settle. Even after multiple profuse apologies, she still feels mortified, but Anthony doesn’t seem to mind; in fact, he texts her after landing home to confirm their plans for “Nashville Day”, as Harper had dubbed it—a day, she had said, to show him some of the classics of Music City.

After practice, she meets him eagerly to take him to purchase his very first Nashville cowboy hat, which she makes him wear as she treats him to his first ever Nashville hot chicken sandwich (Anthony tries to blink away the tears in his eyes while simultaneously being incredibly impressed at the ease with which Harper puts away once of the spiciest things he’s ever eaten in his life). 

Following a quick ice cream detour—Harper doesn’t tell him that she thinks the ice cream will help his burning tongue—the third part of Nashville Day begins: a bar crawl to an assortment of classic Nashville bars, including the bar she’d first started performing at. 

“You ever been line dancing?” she asks, guiding him through the crowd on the sidewalk. The city is bustling, per usual, but Anthony doesn’t notice anyone except Harper and her floral wide-leg jeans.

“I’m from Quebec,” he laughs. “What do you think?”

Harper grins. “Great. Come with me.”

Anthony steels himself as he follows her between two wooden doors. It’s dimly lit, with low lighting shining on the worn, wooden floor–from years worth of dancing. Harper smiles.

“Can you do the Cupid Shuffle?”

“Uh… kind of?”

“It’s like that, just with more country music.”

Putting on a brave face, he nods with far more confidence than he feels. Harper finds two barstools—to let him ‘observe’ first before diving in himself. What Harper doesn’t notice, though, is that Anthony spends more time watching her smile and bounce her knee with the beat.

A small crowd gathers and he’s immediately overwhelmed by the synchronized shuffling, stomping, and tapping, but he tries to study the movements carefully. A few songs pass but he’s nowhere near feeling confident enough to go out on his own—in fact, he’d be quite content sitting on the sidelines for the rest of the night, but of course, Harper has other plans. 

“Come on, this is my favorite one!” she squeals, seizing Anthony’s hand and dragging him out into the crowd before he has a chance to protest. Harper selects a spot on the edge of the line, positioning him beside her and jumping right into the moves. Anthony moves partially into panic mode, eyes darting around at the patrons around him moving perfectly in sync. His feet cross over themselves, awkward and out of place, and Harper laughs, exaggerating her movements to try and help him out. 

“Stomp, stomp, back, back,” she guides him, taking his hand again to turn him when the group shuffles and changes direction. 

Anthony’s got two left feet, but he manages to get a decent enough hold on the moves, following the beat—albeit a bit clumsily. Harper admires his commitment, watching the way his brows knit together in concentration.

Eventually, he gets the hang of it… sort of. Still, he’s relieved when Harper exits the dance floor, nursing his bruised ego while they make their way to get another drink.

“You did good out there for your first time,” she says encouragingly. 

Anthony scoffs, biting back a laugh. “Yeah, right.”

“I’ve seen worse,” she replies with a wink. Her eyes trail over to the mechanical bull on the other side of the room, the crowd around it growing. “You want to scratch another first off your list tonight?”

Blue eyes follow her line of sight, widening when they register what she’s referring to. He’s shaking his head before he can get the words out. “Not a chance.”

“You’re scared,” she says teasingly, sticking her tongue out. “I get it. I’ll show you how it’s done.”

The crowd cheers as she hauls herself up on the saddle. Anthony ignores the pulse below his belt at the image of her legs straddling the bull, but he can’t help the throb watching the way her hips loosen and roll with the movements of the bull. It’s not his fault his brain decided to conjure the image of her doing the exact same thing on top of him.

Fortunately for him, he’s adjusted himself and she doesn’t seem to notice the half-hard erection when she rejoins him after getting knocked off—after an impressive 18 seconds.

“I’m really glad I didn’t try to compete with you,” he says, handing back her drink that she’d left with him for safe keeping. “I’d probably end up on IR and get yelled at by my coaches.”

Harper laughs. “I’ll accept that as an excuse. But after your season is done, you’re getting on that bull.”

“Aye aye,” he says with a salute. 

The pair fall silent for a few moments, distracted by the next patron getting flung off the bull in an aggressive 3-second ride. 

“Why don’t you have a girl, Anthony?” The question comes from out of nowhere.

“What do you mean?”

She takes another sip. “You’re handsome, you’re successful, you’re an athlete, you’re funny. What girl wouldn’t want you?”

Anthony’s heart starts to pound in his chest, his breathing quickening. Keep it cool, man. He shrugs with a nervous chuckle, faffing some string of “yeah, I just–just not really into that right now, while I’m young, you know?”

Harper observes him for a moment, lost in thought as she swirls the lime in her Corona. Anthony lets the moment sit, returning her gaze with a cool and patient smile, his eyes bonded to hers. 

When she speaks, Anthony’s expression falters at first. “The good thing about Joey was that he understood the schedule. So much hopping. Meetings, promos, shows, events. My career isn’t going to be second place to a relationship, so better to date someone who understands that lifestyle.”

Anthony nods, following along. He can practically see the flight path of this conversation, wrestling with the slight increase in his pulse as it plays out in front of him.

“‘Course, maybe that didn’t help, either,” she says with a laugh. 

It’s Anthony’s turn to leave a long silence, contemplating her curiously. He weighs the words on his tongue, toying around with them before speaking them out loud. “Sounds like you need a friends-with-benefits.”

Harper considers. Friends with benefits gives the company of a partner, but without the attachment. At least, in theory. 

“Everyone knows friends with benefits doesn’t work,” she retorts. “Someone always falls for the other.”

“Not if one of them is leaving Nashville this summer.”

Her eyebrows raise. The offer, no longer subtle, is hanging out in the open on the bar lined with scuff marks and water rings from damp bottles. 

“You sure you want to be saying that?” An invisible line in the sand, officially crossed.

A smile graces Anthony’s lips, which he then wets with another swig of his beer. “Most girls only want to date me for the celebrity—to say they’re fucking an NHL player.”

The rest of his sentence doesn’t make it out, but it’s obvious what comes next. But not you.

Because Harper gets it. She’s a celebrity herself, has even more fame and accolades than Anthony, is comfortable with the public eye and everything that comes with having a blue checkmark next to her name. There’s no need to skirt over the clout-chasing and wallet-grabbing insecurities.

Plus, they’re neighbors. Convenient for short notice booty calls—and easy to go to bed alone. The sporadic travel schedules are mutual, as are late nights, early mornings, and quick nights at home. And with Anthony’s future up in the air, it practically guaranteed a clean split at the end of it all.

“Is that all?”

Anthony nudges his empty bottle toward the edge of the bar, leaning in closer toward Harper as he does so. The sweet scent of her perfume invades his senses when he brings his lips closer to her ear before whispering, “I really, really want to fuck you.”

She feels a low pulse in her gut at his words, then downs the rest of her beer. No longer able to deny her burgeoning attraction to him, she shrugs. “Alright. Show me what you got then, Tito.”

Anthony grins at the nickname, sitting back and offering his hand. Harper accepts it, and soon enough, they’re climbing into the backseat of an Uber.

They end up at Harper’s, and Anthony doesn’t demonstrate patience when he kisses her as soon as the door closes. His tongue is practiced, and Harper gets the distinct sense that he’s been waiting for this for a while. His hands card through her hair, holding her close like he can’t bear to part with her. 

“If we’re going to do this—” she begins, wrestling his shirt over his head, pausing for a moment to admire the god-like physique underneath his clothes. She’s never seen it sober, and she wants to enjoy it. Her eyes trailed over the deep cut of his muscles, words stuck in her throat as she gapes at the sight in front of her. 

Anthony’s lips curl up, amused by the way he appears to have rendered her—the bubbly, famously charismatic Harper Mitchell—speechless. His hands are steady pressed against her sides, hot on her skin. He brings her attention away from his body when he asks cheekily, “Do what?”

“I’m serious, Anthony,” she says, more sternly after she wrenches herself away from his tempting lips. “If we’re going to do—this—that’s all it is. I’m not doing the whole ‘Oops I fell in love with you’ shtick, and I need you to be okay with that. Okay?”

The subtle twitch of his jaw is the only sign of any hesitation; a beat passes, and he nods so smoothly that Harper is almost surprised. He doesn’t give her much time to dwell on it, though, when he presses forward to capture her lips again, leaning her against the wall.

“Whatever you say,” he breathes. 

There isn’t much talking from there, save for the sound of lips on skin, soft moans, and the rustle of sheets. Anthony’s body slots against hers, skin hot as he moves slowly, deeply. Harper’s fingers press into the dips of his biceps, pleasure radiating.

When they lie beside each other panting later, Harper turns to face him. The best way to describe the way he’s feeling is shock at how explosive, how other worldly it was to be with her. He’ll come to grips with the fact that he actually slept with the country singer he’s had a crush on for years later.

Anthony feels her eyes on him and he lets his hand rest on her side. Her voice is soft when she asks, “What are you thinking about?” 

“How this has got to be in the top five greatest decisions of my life.”

“Only top five?” She nudges his leg teasingly. 

“I’ll re-evaluate after next time.”

It doesn’t take long for their already practiced routine to become ritual: during periods they’re both home, one rarely spends an evening alone. Sometimes she’ll bring takeout, sometimes he’ll cook and they’ll watch a hockey game or a movie, and sometimes they go straight into the bedroom—particularly after a few extra days apart.

For once, the ‘friends with benefits’ thing works. Things are easy between them, casual, and the base they’d already established for their relationship makes things smooth. Harper’s having fun, and, for the first time since she saw those videos of Joey, she feels happy. 

And Anthony? He doesn’t tell her, but he secretly wonders if their arrangement is actually the best decision he’s ever made. 

———

The room is quiet, save for the slowing heavy breathing. Harper’s legs feel like jelly and the space between her thighs tingles with a warm radiance that only Anthony can bring. 

“What happened with Joey?” 

Harper casts him a sideways glance, sheet rustling with the movement. Moonlight streams in through the half-parted curtains of Anthony’s bedroom. It’s always funny to see the same view that she has from her own apartment, but in an entirely different space. “I don’t want to do pillow talk, Anthony.”

He pauses for a moment, smiling to himself. “Okay,” he says, slipping out from underneath the sheet; Harper’s eyes instinctively move to the generous, shapely curve of his ass. The cool, purple light of the moon illuminates the shape and lines of his back muscles as he leans down to pull on his boxers, then his sweatpants, then his Alo t-shirt. Strolling out of the open bedroom door, Harper hears his feet padding down the hallway rug, followed by the sound of a cabinet, a clink of glass, and finally, the sound of a cup being filled with liquid. 

Moments later, Anthony saunters back into the room, climbing back onto the bed. He hands her a stemless glass of wine, then grabs the remote from the bedside table and clicks on the television mounted across the room.

“Now it’s just two friends hanging out.”

Harper can’t help the short, exhaled laugh that slips out despite the impact of the message. She blinks, letting her eyes flick down to the glass. The red wine sloshes inside, its tart scent drifting into her nose. She takes a sip.

“I thought we were happy,” she says after a while. Her voice is quiet, reflective, shaking just the slightest bit. Anthony sits patiently and listens. “We were talking about moving in together.”

The glow from the television lights up the side of Harper’s face, cast down as she tells her story. Anthony watches her, his heart lurching at the expression on her face. But he needs to know. Needs to know what he’s working with, what his barrier to being with her—really being with her—looks like. 

“He checked in at night when we were apart, FaceTimes a lot of the time too, so it honestly wasn’t anywhere on my radar; I genuinely had no idea he was sneaking around.. I thought the pictures were photoshopped—just something someone was making up on the internet for drama.” She pauses. “But then I saw the videos.”

Anthony’s mouth falls open. “There were videos?”

“Multiple,” she says, a soft, sad smile on her face as she glances over to him. His heart fractures.

“I’m sorry,” he says dumbly. “That’s awful. What did you do?”

“I’m not sure what it was like in Chicago, but it blew up here. There was no way he didn’t know that I knew. So I packed up his shit, left it on the porch of his house, and that was it. I didn’t give him the chance to explain himself or apologize.”

Shit. “Still… that’s a lot to have to deal with. You need closure.”

“I deserve better than that,” Harper says matter-of-factly. “And anyone who isn’t going to give me that doesn’t deserve my time. No closure necessary.”

Anthony nods, struck with the sheer force of her strong persona. He hesitates, the words sitting in his mouth for a few moments as he debates if he should speak them out. But he can’t miss the opportunity—not when this is the closest he’s come to uncovering the truth. “Is that why you won’t do a relationship?”

She doesn’t answer.

“Not every partner you have is going to be like that, you know,” he offers. 

Harper shakes her head, taking a sip of the wine. “I’m not ready to take that risk yet.”

———

It isn’t until the end of April that Harper realizes the enormous space Anthony had carved out for himself in her life. She’s sitting on his mattress, legs crossed with an oversized Islanders sweatshirt on, playing him a portion of a demo she’d recorded earlier that day. His suitcase is out, and he’s in the process of packing for an extended trip to Vancouver—at least, longer than he’d been away since they started spending time together.

“A whole week?” she pouted.

“It’s only five days,” he laughs, folding a hoodie and placing it into the bag. He glances at her, liking the sight of her on his bed and in his clothes. The sleeves of the blue sweatshirt are baggy, rolled over her wrists, and the hem at the bottom swims over her thighs. Then he adds, “You look good in that.”

“I look good in everything,” she says with a cheeky wink.

“You do,” he agrees. “And nothing, too.”

A pulse awakens between Harper’s thighs at the heat in his eyes when he says it, gone with a blink when he returns to the closet to pull out more clothes.

“I don’t know how to be here alone anymore!” she whines.

Anthony snorts before tossing a few pairs of rolled up socks into his bag. “Are you sure it’s not just because you start to get cranky when you go a few days without dick?”

Scoffing, Harper rolls her eyes. “I can get plenty of dick, if I want it. I don’t need you for that.”

If her sharp words hurt him, he doesn’t show it, instead sending a smirk in her direction. He zips up his suitcase, setting it on the floor before turning back to her. Blue eyes lock with hers as he slides a knee onto the mattress, then the other, slinking his way toward her until his legs are straddling hers, his lips mere inches from her own. Harper feels a flutter in her heart that mimics the one between her legs, heat flooding through her at the proximity of his body. “You don’t need me, but you sure do want me.”

Just like that, she’s putty beneath him, melting as soon as his plush lips press against hers. Heat radiates through her system as the kiss intensifies, allowing his tongue to slip into her mouth. Anthony’s fingers lace with hers and pin her hands against the mattress, bracketing her face with his arms.

Abruptly, he pulls away from her, his cheeks flushed. Another smug smile curls up on his face, observing the hitch in her throat and the glassiness of her eyes. 

“You sure you can get that somewhere else?”

———

Eliminated in the first round, the Predators’ playoff run isn’t nearly as deep as Anthony hoped it’d be. Not just for the obvious—chasing his dream of winning the Stanley Cup, but because the end of the season means his inevitable departure from Nashville, and, ultimately, Harper. 

As disappointing as the loss is, hearing the deafening silence of Predators fans at Bridgestone Arena, he’s grateful for the lack of travel home afterwards. He feels strange packing up his things after the game, seeing the disappointment and frustration running deep in the locker room, not knowing if he’ll be back in this place come October to help them take another run at it.

Harper arrives to his apartment not long after he does, wordlessly joining him in the shower he stepped into. Their bodies blend into one under the warm water, cascading over their joined form as she allows Anthony to work out his conflicting feelings in the comfort of her arms. It’s quiet, sensual; his lips seek out peace by marking up the smooth skin of her neck and collarbones while he presses his hips into hers, following a steady and slow rhythm until they’re both reaching their climax in the steam-filled room.

She stays over that night, a rare but not unheard of occurrence as their relationship has progressed. After another round of silent, sinful therapy, Anthony is plagued by his typical post-game insomnia, heightened by the disappointment of his loss and the uncertainty of his future. He watches Harper sleep, soaking in each breath, the rise and fall of her chest, the glow of her skin underneath the moonlight. Her air-dried hair is wavy, a little bit of frizz, and even in the dark, the sparse freckles on her nose stand out against her tawny skin.

It’s almost 2:30am by the time he realizes he’s been gazing at her for over an hour. He’s a little bit embarrassed, quickly blinking away even though she’s been dead to the world ever since he made her come for the third time that night. It was too easy to trail his eyes over the lines of her face, the fullness of her lips, drowning out the stressors of the outside world with Harper’s beauty.

His eyes grow heavy, lost in thought, amused at himself for literally watching her sleep. He hadn’t even thought about hockey.

Anthony’s eyes widen. He hadn’t thought about hockey on the last night of his season, with no contract in place for his next, after an abysmal performance in what was supposed to be a promising postseason. Instead, he’s being a lovesick puppy staring at a girl who isn’t his. 

And all at once, it hits him. He’s in love with Harper.

And he’s leaving Nashville. Doesn’t know if he’ll be back. And he promised her he wouldn’t catch feelings. Practically guaranteed it. 

His heart thuds in his chest as the realization sets in. Despite his fear and uncertainty about the enormous wrench it just put into his… well, life, he’s suddenly wondering how long he’d lived with this feeling for Harper and didn’t know it. He’s never been so aware of the beating of his heart in his chest, memorizing the feel of it.

Harper stirs beside him, as if her subconscious has finally realized he’s been staring at her for way too long. He turns his head and closes his eyes, feigning sleep, unsure if she’s awake or just shifting. Sleep closes in on him, not claiming him completely before he feels a gentle press of lips against his sleeping cheek.

———

In the morning, his scent is the first thing that Harper registers, head resting heavily on Anthony’s bicep. His leg is pressed against hers, and a subtle adjustment of her hips confirms that neither of them bothered to put clothes on last night. He’s warm, solid against her body, and the steadiness of his deep breathing is calming. 

She wonders how late he stayed awake. He’d thoroughly exhausted her—the space between her legs aches deliciously when she stretches—and the thought flits through her mind that last night was probably one of the last times she’d be with him for awhile. Maybe ever. 

So she savors it. Instead of leaving the way she always has, the way she knows she should, she snuggles into his warmth, soaking it in one last time.

When Anthony wakes, Harper is practically wrapped around him, nuzzled underneath his chin. His heart hammers in his chest as his revelation from the night before sinks in.

He’s in love with Harper Mitchell. And she’s naked in his bed.

Anthony’s mind rolls, wondering if he should tell her. And if he should, what should he say—and when? He’s running out of time, his time in Nashville slipping away faster than he’s ready to accept. 

By the time Harper wakes, he’s made the executive decision to wait. Not yet. 

She stays for a plate of scrambled eggs and one more round against the counter when a comforting hug gets quickly heated. Anthony stares at the door long after she leaves, words echoing in his head in a hopeless jumble.

It isn’t until the next day when he’s packing up his bedroom and finds a small, Harper-sized sock that he makes the split decision. He sends a quick text letting her know he’s on his way, and her expression is concerned when she answers the door. “Is everything okay?”

“Can I come in?”

She steps aside to let him in the door, following him anxiously into the kitchen where he turns to face her. “I’ve been thinking.”

Her arms cross and an amused expression floats over her face. “Oh yeah?”

“Reflecting,” he corrects. “On my time in Nashville, now that it’s…”

The words trail off, but Harper knows what’s next. Over.

“It’s been short, but I realized I dreaded the end of the season not because of getting eliminated, but because it meant I’d be leaving you.”

The words hang heavy between them. He sighs and speaks again. “You asked me why I don’t have a girl, and the truth is that I didn’t know what I wanted until I woke up with you in my bed.” 

Another beat passes and he waits for the message to hit. Then he confesses, “You’re what I want, Harper.”

“Anthony,” she says, like a warning. He can hear the way her voice trembles, and he can feel the lift in his heart. “Don’t do this.”

He ignores her, ignores the way her body stiffens. If he can just get through to her, she’ll see. He’s sure of it. 

“You said it yourself—you deserve better than how Joey treated you. You know that I can and will treat you better. Exactly how you deserve.”

“You can’t say that.”

“Why not?” he challenges. “I know you feel the same.”

Harper exhales harshly, her hands on her hips. For a second, Anthony is scared of her and the fire in her eyes.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel,” she finally says. Joey flashes through her mind, glimpses of the video of him kissing another girl, of the way it felt like the world had stopped when she saw it. The lump in her throat is heavy, and she shoves away any flitter of hope that burns quietly in her chest. She can’t—cannot—allow that to happen again.

“Does it matter how I feel?”

Harper’s eyes shoot up to Anthony’s, the usual cerulean swimming with a deeper cornflower shade. She can’t place the emotion behind it. Concern? Hurt? Something else?

“I care how you feel,” she says, “but no matter how you feel, it doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want that. I can’t do it right now.”

“That’s a crock of shit, and you know it. We’ve basically been dating this entire time.”

Harper shakes her head. “Your definition of dating must be very different from mine.”

“Sleepovers, movie nights, coffee dates, constant texting,” he lists, counting them off on his fingers. “That doesn’t sound like dating to you?”

“That’s not fair.”

“Not fair? What’s not fair is you not even giving me a chance when you know I’m right!”

“You knew that’s all this was!” Harper exclaims, her heartbeat racing. “You agreed to that before any of this started, Anthony.”

Anthony bristles, his jaw clenching. His breath quickens and anger bubbles in the pit of his stomach—he can hear the resistance in her voice. Why won’t she admit she feels the same? He knows she does.

But if she isn’t going to, or doesn’t want to, then there’s no use in trying. And he can’t keep falling harder for her—not if she isn’t going to reciprocate. 

“Then maybe we should quit while we’re ahead.”

Something flashes in Harper’s eyes, so fast he barely catches it before it’s gone and replaced by cold. Her back stiffens and she draws herself up taller. “Maybe we should.”

The silence in the room is heavy and uncomfortable. Anthony and Harper stare at each other, unspoken words swirling in the air between them. There’s so much left to say, so many things left unsaid, but Anthony’s head is too clouded with defeat and frustration.

So, he shrugs, bids an uncomfortable goodbye, and takes his leave of her apartment. Harper stands in silence, wondering how, after all the care she took to protect herself after Joey,  she feels the same ache in her heart as the day he’d left.

———

The next day, Harper has a songwriting session with Zoey, who, fortunately for her, comes prepared with three half-written songs. They’re easier, take a little less brain power, and she’s grateful for a friend who came prepared. Waking up was easy, but remembering her and Anthony’s fight had been tough.

Those three songs turn into a warmup, and three hours later, Harper emerges from a songwriting haze, almost half an album deep. There’s work to do, but she’s pleased with what they came up with, her mind already swimming with other ideas that she’s sure she’ll be recording half-completed voice memos with for the rest of the night. 

She stays to chat with Zoey for a little while, catching up on the latest in each other’s lives and making plans for coffee soon. Harper packs up her things, murmuring a goodbye with her head swimming.

“Who is he?”

Zoey’s voice comes from behind her, and Harper pauses, her keys jingling in her hand. She turns. “Who is who?”

“The guy in those songs.”

“What are you talking about? Zo, it was Joey,” she says.

“Not all of it. There’s someone else in there.”

Anthony’s eyes float through her mind, and although she can lie to Zoey, she can’t lie to herself. 

Harper flies home, rushing up the elevator and pounding on Anthony’s door. She stands impatiently, heart thumping in her chest, listening for the familiar sound of his feet on the tiled floor of the kitchen. 

The sound doesn’t come, though, and Harper waits by the door until a building manager comes by and informs her that the resident of unit 1293 turned in his keys earlier that day. Vaguely aware of offering a short ‘thank you’, Harper returns to her own apartment in shock. 

Anthony is gone.

And she’s only just realized that she’s in love with him.

Twenty four hours later, she’s on a plane. Her heart beats in her throat as she watches it touchdown. Bienvenue a Montreal flashes on the screen outside the jet bridge. Harper finds the address she bribed Filip for in her phone, pulling up her Lyft app. 

Once she’s in the vehicle, she blows out a breath and loses herself in thought. The Montreal skyline comes into view outside the window, and she’s instantly surrounded by everything Anthony. The trees, the buildings, the streets—she wonders how many of them he’s seen, been to. She thinks about going to those places with him.

When the red Nissan pulls up to the house, Harper thanks her driver and steps out. Her hands shake, but she pushes through, clutching the handle of her small duffle bag until she’s knocking at the door.

Anthony’s face is nothing but shock when he opens the door. “Harper?”

“Anthony,” she says, breathless. She’s frozen in place, staring at him, like she forgot what she came there for. His eyes, she notices, are the same shade of cool, cornflowery blue as that day he’d left. It makes her heart ache.

“What are you doing here?” His words pull her out of her thoughts and she briefly wonders how long she’d been staring at him in silence. 

“I couldn’t—I couldn’t let you leave like that. After everything we—I just couldn’t.”

He sighs, stepping outside and closing the door behind him. “You made it clear how you feel, Harper. You didn’t need to come all this way to say it again.”

“No, Anthony,” she says, watching his expression shift when she says it. “I was wrong. I was scared. I am scared.”

“Of what?”

Harper shifts on her feet, the lump in her throat tightening. Anthony’s gaze is firm and unwavering. “Of getting hurt again. Of Joey happening all over again. Of you leaving.”

It clicks for him, then, the worry in her eyes. “I’m not Joey, Harper. I think you know that. I can’t promise that everything will be perfect always, but I’m willing to give it my best shot because I think you’re worth it.”

“What if you decide I’m not worth it anymore?”

Anthony takes her hand in his, stroking the back of it with his thumb. “Harper, you are kind, funny, smart, talented, and beautiful. Anyone who doesn't see that isn’t worth your time anymore. Myself included.”

She doesn’t reply. It’s almost overwhelming, the things he says to her; she sees kind things about her written in articles and posted online, but it sounds entirely different coming from his mouth. He continues, “That’s what I was trying to tell you the other day. You are worth it. And I’d like to prove it to you, if you let me.”

Their eyes meet, bodies unconsciously floating together. Anthony stays quiet, gauging her face for a reaction. The fear is still there, looming over her in a silent and constant threat, but blue eyes pierce through the veil and she focuses hard on them to push the rest away.

Then, she smiles. “Kiss me, you idiot.”

[lemoncrushh]

Best Friends

Summary: You and Harry are best friends, but he would love for it be more.

Warnings: None, just fluff

Word Count: 1628

A/N: A cute best friends blurb from 2016. This blurb is a little bit different. It's still written for the reader, but it's in Harry's POV like he's telling you about you and him. It's 1D Harry, but you are roommates (not sure why I did that, it might have been a request lol). Louis, Niall, Liam and Cheryl appear in this one too.

"Y/N!" you heard me call from the kitchen.

"Yeah babe?" you yelled from your bedroom.

"What do you want for dinner?"

You slipped into your shorts and t-shirt, not bothering to put on a bra. You'd been living with me for years, and we were best friends. There was no reason for you to be modest around me. You walked into the kitchen, lightly drying your hair with a towel.

"What have we got?" you asked, my head behind the freezer door.

I stepped back, nearly knocking myself in the head as I looked at you. Jesus, you were beautiful. You were never really one to be high maintenance, but on the daily you always tried to look your best. If we ran into each other in the mornings before you left for work, I always told you how gorgeous you looked. You would smile and say, "thanks babe," giving me a kiss on the cheek. If I took you out with me to a dinner party or some other industry function, you'd look so amazing it would take my breath away. But this...this was my favourite. When you were freshly clean from the shower, your running shorts or a pair of sweats on, no makeup, your hair damp. You were absolutely stunning, and to be honest, I had a hard time not staring.

"Um..." I swallowed, "not much."

You shrugged. "Anything's fine with me. We can order pizza if you want."

Not waiting for a response, you walked back to the bathroom to hang your towel on the rod. Then returning to the living room, you plopped down on the sofa, grabbing the remote control. I watched you as I ordered pizza from my phone, then placed it on the counter.

"How was your day?" you asked me. You flipped through the channels before landing on Friends.

"It was okay," I shrugged, walking over to sit next to you.

"Just okay?" you raised a brow.

"Well, you know. Writing, studio time."

"Is the album coming along?" you inquired, adjusting yourself on the sofa so that you faced me, your elbow resting on the back. I adored the little things like that. They showed me you cared about me, and weren't just making small talk out of obligation.

"Yeah," I nodded with a grin. "It's coming along great. We have six tracks recorded now."

"Eeek!" you squealed, clapping your hands. "I can't wait to hear them! You will let your dear BFF hear them first, won't you?"

I chuckled. "Of course."

You smiled, reaching for my hand to squeeze. "I'm so excited, Harry!"

"Me too," I beamed. I couldn't help it. When you looked at me that way, my heart wanted to beat out of my chest.

We sat and watched Friends together, laughing at Phoebe getting hummus on her dress and Joey walking in with all of Chandler's clothes on. The pizza arrived and we ate it in front of the television. We ended up opening a bottle of wine, enjoying it with good conversation well into the evening. I loved watching your cheeks get pink from the alcohol, your eyelids slightly heavy. I wanted so badly to kiss you, but I knew you didn't feel that way about me. So just like every other night, I pushed the urge aside and continued with our friendly banter.

Finally around midnight, you rose from the couch to take our glasses to the kitchen. I sat back on the sofa, resting my eyes and silently wishing you'd either suddenly feel the same about me, or my own feelings would dissipate. I could hear your footsteps as you returned to the living room, stopping in front of me.

"I'm going to bed now, babe. I'm exhausted."

My eyes fluttered open to look at you, an easy grin spreading across my face.

"Okay, love," I sat up. "Goodnight."

"Night," you murmured, leaning over to give me a kiss on the cheek. "I'll go shopping tomorrow for the dinner party."

"Oh. Right." I'd almost forgotten. Tomorrow the boys were coming for dinner and you were planning to cook.

"I love you," you declared.

"I love you, too."

Giving me a soft smile, you turned and headed toward your bedroom. With a deep sigh, I leaned back against the sofa again. If only you knew how much I loved you. If only...

Our dining room was noisy and smelled like a mix of garlic and cologne, which to some might sound questionable, but as for me, I wouldn't have had it any other way. You'd made the most delicious meal I'd ever tasted, and once again you'd proven to be the perfect host.

"Shall I get dessert?" you asked, starting to rise from the table.

"I'll help," offered Liam's girlfriend, Cheryl.

"Wait!" I exclaimed, standing up. "I need to make a toast."

You raised your brows in question, sitting back down and taking your glass.

"To..." I hesitated. "To best friends, best food, and best company."

"Hear hear!" everyone said in unison. I heard the sound of glasses clinking together as I turned to look at you.

"Thank you, Y/N," I grinned. "You're amazing."

You gave me your million watt smile, bringing your glass to your lips. I watched you take a drink before sipping my own.

"I'll get the dessert," you said softly, your eyes still on me.

As soon as you'd left the room, I ran my hand down my face with a groan.

"What's wrong, mate?" asked Niall.

"Nothing," I shook my head.

Louis scoffed, shaking his head.

"What?" I narrowed my eyes.

"It's so obvious, Harry," he remarked.

"What is?"

"That you're in love with her."

"Y/N?" Niall turned to me, his eyes wide. "Ya are?"

"He has been from day one," said Louis.

"I have not," I argued, my stomach suddenly in knots.

"Does she know?" Liam piped in.

"No," I shook my head. "She doesn't have a fucking clue."

"So ya are," Niall nodded.

I glared at him.

"Ya gonna tell her?"

"I can't," I dropped my head. "She seems so happy with the way things are. I don't wanna mess it up."

"Mess what up?" Cheryl asked when she walked through the doorway from the kitchen, three dishes of dessert in her hands. She placed two of them in front of Louis and Liam and sat down with her own.

"Harry's in love with Y/N," muttered Liam.

"Shhh," I put my finger to my lips.

"You are?" Cheryl's eyes widened.

"Am I the only one who picked up on this?" Louis threw up his hands.

"Yes, okay?" I whisper-shouted. "I'm in love with her. I've been in love with her for a long time."

Louis nodded, just as you emerged from the kitchen. My heart felt like it was in my throat as I prayed you hadn't overheard our conversation.

"Here you go!" you sang, placing dishes in front of Niall and me.

I looked up at you while you sat beside me, digging your fork into your dessert. I reckoned you could feel my gaze so you side-eyed me, giving me a smirk.

"What?" you asked.

I shook my head, dismissing the moment and biting into my own dessert.

After everyone had said their goodbyes and we saw them out the door with a gracious thank you, I followed you into the kitchen, offering to help you with dishes. We worked together in silence, my heart racing and my brain on overdrive. I didn't know if you'd heard my confession, but it was nearly killing me that you were being so quiet which was unlike you.

Finally, putting the last dish in the washer and shutting it, you turned to me.

"I heard you," you muttered.

"What?" I stopped. My initial reaction was to question it, because surely I misunderstood you.

"I heard what you said. What you told Cheryl and the boys."

I lowered my gaze to the countertop, my finger tracing a nonexistent pattern.

"Why didn't you say anything?" I asked.

"I didn't want to embarrass or humiliate you," you replied.

"How...how would you have humiliated me?"

"Harry..."

I lifted my head to look at you. What I already knew was staring me in the face.

"You don't feel the same," I stated.

You were silent for a moment until you shook your head. "It's not that. It's just...I had no idea you felt that way about me. I thought all this was harmless flirting and friendship stuff. It's...it's kinda weird, you know?"

I blinked, nodding my head. You stepped closer to me, reaching for my hand.

"I love you," you declared. "I care about you. I don't want any awkwardness between us."

"I get that," I agreed.

You lifted your other hand to touch my cheek.

"You're so amazing," you added. "And if..."

I covered your hand with mine, looking into your eyes.

"If what?"

You swallowed hard. "If I let my guard down...I could easily fall in love with you."

I felt my lips stretch into a smile as you did the same. Then leaning forward, you lightly brushed your lips against mine, kissing the corner of my mouth. I knew you were still hesitant, so I didn't push further.

"One step at a time," you said, echoing my thoughts, though it was almost a question.

I nodded. "Yeah."

"I'm going to bed," you whispered. "Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight."

I watched you once again as you walked away towards your bedroom. So, the cat was out of the bag as they say. You knew the truth. You hadn't reciprocated my feelings, but at least you hadn't shut them down either. I had hope. And I planned on holding onto it for a while.

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[in-death-we-fall]

Brothers Beyond

Slipknot may never fully recover from the passing of Paul Gray, but their imminent return to the stage at UK’s Sonisphere is going to be an act of catharsis for fans and band alike. Shawn ‘Clown’ Crahan and Joey Jordison open up to Hammer exclusively.

Words: Dom Lawson Pics: Steve Brown

Metal Hammer 218 - June 2011 (drive link)

Editor’s note: The dark lord speaks…

16 Gigantic Balls.

That’s what Slipknot had to have to get back in the saddle after the inestimable loss of Paul Gray last year, and judging by our breathtakingly candid interview this month, their appearance at Sonisphere this summer is going to be one for the history books. Slipknot’s return is nothing short of heroic, and we hope you’ll love reading Dom Lawson’s piece as much as we did putting it together.

But then Hammer’s always been about getting under the skin of things to bring you a depth and breadth of metal coverage that you won’t find anywhere else, and this issue’s packed with the kind of chest-swelling bravado that makes real metal bands tick. From Biff Byford’s frankly inspiring quest to defy trends and stick to his guns, to Mastodon’s rise from the depths of obscurity to become one of the world’s foremost lords of the riff, to our first glimpse of Iron Maiden simply fucking killing it on a world-tour that’s more like a global victory lap, Hammer is all about the sorts of tales that make the musicians we love as inspiring as the music that they create. Oh, and metal in… Botswana? The metal empire is truly growing at a staggering pace – be the first to read and read about it.

And as we barrel ever-closer to this year’s positively thrilling Golden God awards, we hope you’ll take the time to add your votes to the hundreds of thousands we’ve already received. It’s also your chance to win tickets to what’s sure to be the most ridiculously metallic award show in history. I mean really, Devin and Twisted Sister on the same night? Whollee. Fucking. Shiiiit! Just head to www.metalhammer.co.uk/goldengods to cast your vote and take a part in heavy metal history.

Before we kick off these headbanging proceedings, let’s take a moment to spare a thought for the late, truly great Scott Columbus, erstwhile Manowar drummer and an inspiration to any metalhead who’s ever felt their pulse quicken to the sound of a mighty drum. Our thoughts are with his friends and family in this difficult time. Horns at half mast.

STAY METAL..

Brothers Beyond

Slipknot may never fully recover from the passing of Paul Gray, but their imminent return to the stage at UK’s Sonisphere is going to be an act of catharsis for fans and band alike. Shawn ‘Clown’ Crahan and Joey Jordison open up to Hammer exclusively.

Words: Dom Lawson Pics: Steve Brown

When the news broke last December, you could hear the cheers of elation and sighs of relief from the hot streets of Rio de Janeiro to the sun-blistered stone of the Parthenon. Despite having endured an horrific year that had seen them reduced from a seemingly invincible nine-man wrecking crew to a wounded but dignified band of brothers, following the tragic death of founder member and bassist Paul Gray back in May, Slipknot announced that (sic) were going to return, headlining the Sonisphere festival at Knebworth this July and playing a handful of other prestigious dates. The events of 2010 unquestionably pulled the rug from underneath this seemingly unyielding band’s feet and plunged them into a period of mourning and destabilising uncertainty; the endless and often witless speculation of pundits and fans on the internet only adding to the sense that the Iowans’ rudder had fallen off, leaving them lost and directionless. In the end, those who were predicting the end of the Slipknot story looked very foolish. The end of Slipknot? Don’t be fucking ridiculous.

Four months on from that announcement, drummer Joey Jordison and percussionist and visual king Shawn ‘Clown’ Crahan, the other two parts of the unholy trinity of Des Moines miscreants who put the band together in the first place, are in a far more buoyant and defiant mood than many may have predicted after watching the heartbreaking press conference that followed Paul’s death. Speaking to Hammer as the wheels of progress start to grind into action, both men have plenty to say about the past, present and future of their band and, despite having barely spoken to the press since the passing of their friend, both are happy to answer the questions that fans have been dying to ask during those months of sorrow. First and foremost, we have to ask what prompted them to stage their comeback in Europe rather than at home in the US.

“If we were gonna return, why would we not go to Europe first?” states Joey. “It was the right decision at the right time. Europe’s always been amazing to us, especially the UK. I still remember our first show there, on December 13, 1999; I still have dreams about it! It was one of the biggest landmarks of our career so why not go back now? Slipknot is not going to die. It’s a lifeforce, man. With all the feelings and emotions and the passion of one of the people who really helped to start our band pushing us forward, this is how we start again.”

You always seem to have had a strong relationship with the UK; ever since the self-titled album came out in 1999 and UK metal fans immediately embraced what you were doing, arguably more so than in any other territory. Is the show at Knebworth going to be the most important of all?

“The show at Knebworth is going to be heavy, man,” says Shawn. “We thought Download was fuckin’ heavy in 2009, but this’ll be something else. I don’t even know how to describe it, because the UK kids know us, man. I remember the first show at the Astoria in ‘99. I walked into the Astoria and there was a kid in an orange jumpsuit and a clown mask, and he’d paid £85 to have the mask made so he could be me. I couldn’t believe it. I thought I’d achieved everything when I got to the UK; the UK totally gets us. That show will be the heaviest show on the tour by far. There’ll be a lot of tears that day.”

“The feeling right now between all the bandmembers is the same feeling we had when we first came to the UK,” adds Joey. “This is a special event. It’s not like being on tour. We’re doing this out of our hearts and out of respect for our band and mostly out of respect for our fans. This isn’t contrived, some list of tour dates. This is speaking directly to the UK and to Europe. This is not bullshit. People will be pleasantly surprised by what we’re bringing.”

One of Slipknot’s strengths has always been that they’ve been adept at presenting a united front to the world. Even though it’s always been apparent that this is a band full of wildly differing personalities, the whole point of Slipknot has often seemed to be the expression of a single, focused purpose, uniting band and audience in a grand outpouring of righteous anger and joyous energy. As a result, the last year has been a little unsettling for those observing the band, not least because for the first time it has been made plain that not everyone in Slipknot has been reading from the same tight-lipped, thoughtful page. In particular, frontman Corey Taylor has been making frequent public pronouncements that have carried a faint air of pessimism and negativity.

“Part of me is ready [to carry on with the band] and there’s a part of me that’s not,” he stated back in March. “I have a lot of trepidation about it. I don’t know how to feel. I know a lot of the guys in the band are trying not to show that side, and I can’t.”

In light of the fact that Slipknot had already announced their intention to return, thus strongly implying that the band could well continue beyond these few shows and make another record too, Corey’s comments, seem, at best, a little unhelpful. Do his publicly expressed doubts about the future of the band run deeper or is this simply a case of one man’s emotions leading him away from the general consensus?

“Well, I would get into a lot of trouble if I try to speak for people, so it’s important that you print it like I say it, and I’m saying that I’m not speaking for anybody except myself,” states Shawn, firmly but diplomatically. “But in my opinion the majority of people in the band need Slipknot, want Slipknot, have no doubt that Slipknot will continue. There may be people in the band who may have a harder time feeling what they’re experiencing and only they can get over that and only they can make themselves feel that way. Hopefully their feelings will work out, and that’s exactly what we’re doing, getting together to celebrate Paul’s life, his love for music, his love for Slipknot, his love for his fans.”

The last few years have been upsetting for rock fans, with numerous major figures passing away, leaving huge gaps that can never be filled. The loss of Paul resonated as loudly and powerfully as any, partly because he was such a talented and revered figure within the metal world, but also because Slipknot have always seemed to be impervious to the hazards that cause most bands to noisily disintegrate or feebly fizzle out, whether they be as trivial as ‘musical differences’ or as monumental as mortality itself. And yet, despite having been temporarily stopped in their tracks, few would bet against Slipknot roaring back into action at full strength and with renewed vigour when they hit the road again this summer. As another band appearing at Sonisphere this July once sang, “You cannot kill what doesn’t die…”

“It’s always been that way,” agrees Joey. “Our first tour was Ozzfest in ‘99 and we fuckin’ blew every other band off the fuckin’ stage, every night. It was not even a competition. It’s not like we were trying to beat anyone; we were just being ourselves. We toured with Coal Chamber and some other bands that year too, and I recall my friend Dez Fafara telling me that one guy from one of the other bands had looked at him when we were playing and said, ‘Can you see what we got ourselves into here?’ They tried to kick us off the tour, every band did. One show in Oklahoma City we couldn’t fit anything on the stage and they kicked us off the show and we still outsold every other band’s merch! That’s the strength of what we are when we’re together as a band. That’s not ego talking, it’s the truth. It is what it is, and I’m so happy and so fulfilled with everything we’ve done and everything that we’re gonna do.”

“A lot of people won’t know that we were done with All Hope Is Gone, and we were going to take a break like we do after every record,” says Shawn. “That’s why people love our band; we’re not trying to get off our label and make a bunch of shitty records and try to shove ‘em down fans’ throats. We take time off to get physically and spiritually sound, then we get bored and take what we’ve learned from where we’ve been and we apply it to right now and we get busy with art and music, then we come and kick the living shit out of you. That’s what we do.”

Just as the trials of life can never kill a band with Slipknot’s fighting spirit, neither can you replace the irreplaceable; a fact that made the band’s decision to fight another day such a painful one. There from the beginning, Paul made such an invaluable contribution to every aspect of Slipknot’s music, methodology and rise to glory that the idea of someone else stepping into his jumpsuit and mask was simply unthinkable. But there are always ways a means to circumnavigate even the toughest problems, and so the news that Slipknot have recruited Donnie Steele, a member of a very early lineup of the band and a close friend and musical collaborator of Paul’s, to perform bass duties on these upcoming dates has removed a great deal of disquiet from conversations about the future.

“I’m glad you’re speaking with me today,” notes Joey. “You have called me on the first day that I play with my new bass player. I’m starting with Donnie tonight. I start working with him first and we have over 35 songs that we have to rehearse tonight! Ha ha ha! When we headline in the UK it’s gonna be a longer set, so we have to go over a bunch of stuff.”

What made you go with Donnie?

“It was an easy decision,” he says. “I don’t want to talk about my brother’s death, but once it happened, our phones all lit up with all these guys from other bands. I took it at a disrespect level. I was like, ‘No, no, no!’ and it just came to me one night. I woke up from a dream about the early Slipknot days, before it was even known as Slipknot. Donnie was our first guitar player. We only had one guitar player but we had three drummers. You couldn’t even hear the guitar before we hired Josh [Brainard, Slipknot guitarist from 1995-1999]. So I called Shawn and I said, ‘This is the only thing that makes sense…’ Slipknot is a family. It’s a brotherhood. When we started together, Donnie was there. The last time I saw Paul was when I was with Rob Zombie in Iowa; Donnie was there and he and Paul were writing a new record for [pre-Slipknot metal project] Body Pit. I said to Shawn, ‘He’s part of our family!’”

“The gentleman who’s filling in for Paul was very, very good friends with Paul,” Shawn adds. “They come from a school of death metal and black metal, both very technical players. Recently Paul had hooked up with him and they were finally going to do their side-project. Paul was a guitar player and he attacked the bass like he did the guitar, and that’s exactly what Donnie’s gonna do. So he’s bringing more integrity than any freakin’ person who ever thought they had a chance of playing bass in something as serious as Slipknot. I laughed in the face of anybody who thought they had a chance!”

There’s been a lot of speculation about whether Donnie will be performing alongside the rest of the band onstage or whether he will be behind the drum riser out of sight. Can you confirm or deny any of this?

“We still have to figure out what we wanna do,” says Joey. “Will he be behind me? Right now, yes. In the future, I don’t know. Right now, he’s behind me or right next to me and he’ll be watching my every move and I’ll be watching him but it’s not going to take away from my performance, because by the time we hit the stage it’s going to be easy.”

“I can’t predict the future, but I know right now there’s no new mask, no new coveralls, no new number,” says Shawn. “There’s eight guys on stage and the first guitar player we ever had filling in for Paul, because there’s always gonna be nine.”

Clearly there can be no upside to the loss of such a loved and respected figure, but the last year has at least enabled the music world to finally acknowledge Paul as the influential and inspirational creative dynamo buzzing tirelessly away at the heart of Slipknot. It has always been left primarily to Joey, Shawn and Corey to communicate with the press and although Paul was not averse to doing interviews, his relative anonymity within such a populous band meant that he was able to exert his vast influence on Slipknot’s music and ethos away from the media spotlight. Now, of course, it’s apparent that his death has left a chasm inside this band’s furious heart and that these forthcoming live performances present a huge emotional challenge to those who mourn him, both on the stage and in front of it. Joey and Shawn are clearly still coming to terms with the loss of their friend, both close to tears when his name inevitably comes up in our conversations. For Shawn in particular, Slipknot’s return to the stage is all about paying respects and doing what needs to be done.

“Slipknot is more dangerous now than ever and I have the fuel known as Paul Dedrick Gray in my blood,” he says. “I’ve been here from the beginning, when Paul recognized my ability as an artist and said, ‘Just do it, man! Let your thoughts out and don’t let anyone stop you from what you feel and what you think!’ So now I’ve got his blood boiling in my veins. I’m not just playing for Clown; I’m playing for him, for his wife and daughter, his legacy, his love for the band, his love for music. I’m not discrediting anybody. We wouldn’t be where we’re at without everybody. We wouldn’t be here without Corey, Sid, Jim, Craig, Mick, Chris, all of us. But in the beginning, there was this idea that was created by Paul and I. He wrote the kind of music with Joey that just made me want to put my face through glass. I helped start one of the biggest metal bands in the world and I’m not necessarily a metalhead. I’m an alternative dude or an indie dude, whatever the fuck that means. I was on my way to being like Andy Warhol or something! I gave it all up to be in this band called Slipknot and I love it and I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Another major issue is whether or not Slipknot will ever make another studio album. Paul wrote a lot of the band’s music and was an integral part of the creative process on all four of their albums to date, but Slipknot have no shortage of creative brains to tap for fresh ideas. Corey added a dash of fuel to the fires of confusion when he stated recently that “there’s such a huge piece missing now, a piece that the fans can’t even understand. I mean, Paul always was that unconscious, almost lynchpin that held everything together. And he had such a great mind for the music that we created that without him, I don’t see it happening very soon, let’s put it that way.”

Given that it’s clear that at least one member of the band has doubts about the future, can fans truly be secure in the knowledge that their heroes will continue beyond these festival appearances and as far as a new album in the future?

“That’s the most important question you’ve asked so far,” says Joey. “We made this decision [to play shows this summer] out of respect for the music that we made and out of respect for our friend but mainly for our fans. Why would we not continue? It’s stupid to even think it. There are a lot of naysayers and all that shit. In the Slipknot world it’s blasphemy to say we might not continue.”

“Yes, I always knew we’d be back together,” insists Shawn. “Yes, I always thought we’d make another record. When? I don’t know. Is it being talked about? No, it is now. When would it ever be? I have no idea because I’m not a fortune teller, but in my heart of heart of hearts, and with Paul on my shoulder, kicking me in my face day after day, I absolutely believe there’ll be another record. How could there not be?”

Their unerring ability to sing from a single song sheet has been one of the biggest factors in Slipknot’s enduring appeal. From humble beginnings in Des Moines to their status as one of the biggest metal bands on the planet, these men prize collective focus above virtually anything else, and so it has been strange to see signs of hesitancy emerge in recent times. It’d be more than a little tacky to speculate whether Corey’s seemingly disruptive remarks about the future, and his bandmates’ self-evident but skilfully stifled testiness, are merely evidence that the grieving process affects different people in different ways, but it is also undeniably true that the internet age has made it more or less impossible for any high-profile rock band to conduct their affairs in private. The much-debated possibility that Corey is to be announced as Velvet Revolver’s new singer is a great example of this: what would normally be dismissed as idle gossip takes on a level of credibility far beyond what the known facts would seem to deserve. Social networking is the new grapevine, it seems, and Joey is not impressed.

“The internet can fuck off!” he barks. “I have an official MySpace and Facebook, but all that bullshit? I don’t use it. If you want to talk to me as a person, the internet is the worst thing possible. I do get it. Maybe it makes sense if you don’t have a life of your own. But that’s why i don’t use it. I have lovely people around me all the time and I’m blessed with everything I’ve been able to accomplish. I only have MySpace and Facebook to block people from imitating me. I don’t even have a Twitter account. But you know what? If I need to find where a good Mexican restaurant is, I can log on and find it. So the internet does have its uses, I guess! Ha ha!”

Bullshit and hyperbole will continue to make the world go round, but for now at least, all that remains is to get very, very excited indeed about seeing Slipknot again at Knebworth this summer. Anyone who witnessed the band tearing Download a collection of new arseholes in 2009 will be able to confirm that there are few bands more capable of commanding a festival headlining slot, and it goes without saying that the UK will welcome them back with open arms and pounding hearts, but our mounting excitement at the thought of Slipknot headlining a major UK festival again is undeniably tempered by a faint air of nervousness about the backdrop of grief and uncertainty that has coloured the band’s canvas over the last 12 months. One way or another, this is going to be extremely emotional, isn’t it?

“I don’t think any fan ever thought they were never gonna see Paul again,” says Shawn. “So it’s our duty to being it all together; when I walk on stage in tears, there’ll be 10,000 other people in tears with me and we’re going to celebrate in the salvation of music and what brings us together.”

“These gigs are not a job,” avows Joey. “This is more of a cleansing. All of us are going to have the most incredible shows of our career. That’s it. I’m not saying this to promote this. But this is going to be worth the wait. Of course there are gonna be teary eyes and maybe for some of us, behind the masks, but are they gonna be sad tears? No, they’ll be happy. We’re going to be there and we’re going to watch the audience explode and what better celebration could you ask for? That’s all it needs to be. Let’s just fucking rock!”

Slipknot play Sonisphere, July 8-10, 2011

“We’re gonna die for rock ‘n roll!”

Slipknot’s drummer was in Tokyo with his other band, Murderdolls, when the recent earthquake hit Japan, wreaking devastation and leading to many thousands of deaths. Here he recounts his experience for the first time…

“I was doing an interview and a photoshoot in this really rickety building when the quake started,” he recalls. “We’d already felt a smaller quake the day before, but when this one really hit it was throwing me against the walls. My tour manager Roger grabbed me saying, ‘Fuck this! We don’t need this…’ and he threw me over his shoulder and got me out of there! Everyone was trying to get out and we were the last band to leave Japan. We were like, ‘Fuck it!’ We were gonna stay and if we die, we’re gonna die for rock ‘n’ roll! That’s the Murderdolls’ mentality. We couldn’t get back to our hotel rooms because the elevators were completely fucked, so we went and stayed in the bar and got shitfaced. In the end we got evacuated. It was like, ‘If you want to make it back to the US, you need to go now otherwise you’re gonna be stuck here!’ So we finished our pints and got to the airport and, luckily, got on the airplane. Right after that is when the nuclear reactor was heating up. It was a big, intense experience. It was one for the books, I tell you…”

Shawn Crahan tells Hammer about his new band…

Black Dots Of Death

Describe your new band… “It’s a rebirth of Clown, a second coming, and it’s dangerous. It’s the next level. It’s a mix of many genres. I’m done making soft music and now I’m angry again and everything’s surrounded by death and the idea of ‘What the fuck are you doing?’ There’s a moral behind everything; it’s deep.”

What appeals to you about playing the drums? “I’ve played drums since I was eight years old, man. When you see me play drums, that’s the most personal me you’ll ever see. I don’t wear a mask. No one plays as hard as me, man.”

Do you have plans to take Black Dots Of Death out on the road? “The record is out now. Everything you need to know, you can find at www.theblackdotsofdeath.com. This is art, man, and it’s fuckin’ dangerous. But my biggest priority in 2011 is to get together with Slipknot. There will be Black Dots shows, but my biggest priority is to celebrate Paul’s life.”

Will he or won’t he?

The rumour mill has been working overtime as speculation mounts about Corey Taylor apparently becoming the new singer in Velvet Revolver. Or not. Here’s what’s been said so far…

“We recorded a bunch of songs with Corey. I think he’s fucking great – he’s the best voice of a new generation and I’d be proud to do anything with him.” [Duff McKagan, March 2011]

“He’s a guy we’ve had our eye on, but the timing wasn’t right. Weiland was available. He was out of Stone Temple Pilots. It wasn’t like we went and said, ‘Hey, dude…’ He came to us, like, ‘Hey, I’m out of my band. I’ve got time. Let’s do this.’ And it’s a similar situation with this individual.” [Sorum to billboard.com, December 2010]

“[The new singer is] a little younger, a little stronger, a little heavier rock’n’roll than we are.” [Sorum to Noisecreep, December 2010]

“A couple of people have said one thing or another, but it’s been blown out of proportion. I’ve made no comment on that one.” [Slash, February 2011]

“It’s gonna be interesting going into the third record because we’re gonna have a whole different personality as a vocalist. Chances are it’s gonna be a lot heavier than anything Velvet Revolver has done so far.” [Sorum to artistdirect.com, January 2011]

“As soon as we got off the road from the last tour and parted ways with [singer] Scott [Weiland], we got together and wrote half a dozen really great, sort of heavy metal pieces of music. It’s a lot heavier than what Velvet Revolver has put out [in the past], so I’m dying to put out the quintessential Velvet Revolver record.” [Slash to MTV News, June 2010]

“To be continued! Ha ha ha!” [Corey Taylor to billboard.com after being asked directly about whether or not he is joining Velvet Revolver, January 2011]

[inkdemonapologist]

!!!!!!!!!!! New Cthulhu Season has started!! this time featuring:

The band at our fancy party started playing a song that Sammy INSTANTLY recognised as his own improv, played a year and some change ago from the balcony of a New Orleans hotel to calm his nerves, which really should not be turning up perfectly replicated here and unsettled him so much that he ended up trying to communicate this to Jack in the LEAST CLEAR WAY IMAGINABLE

we got a supernatural partycrasher at the fancy party which means wE GOT PROPHET IN A SUIT!!! FANCY PROPHET FOR JUST A FEW MINUTES!! his previously prophesied warning of what was to come included the phrase "a report that silences the tongue of ythill," which is apparently what this was, and he got SO EXCITED about the appearance of this weird man making people bleed from the eyes that he booted Sammy from the front to take it all in. THE TIME IS FINALLY AT HAND!!!

i also have a lil smattering of out-of-context quotes from session 1 if ur into that sort of thing: here under the cut!

[Sammy is played by me, Joey is played by Boo (inkyvendingmachine), Henry is played by Maf (inkcryptid), Jack is played by Mochi (whatyouwantedmetosee) and Thren (haunted-hijinxer) is our GM!]

[Jack] Aw, there's no snow in the year before, so probably no snowball fights for Christmas, [GM] Well, we can invent our own, that's fine. [Sammy] It's the ONE difference! IDENTICAL TO OUR WORLD, except for on December 25th there was snow, don't worry about it. [GM] And tape recorders! [Sammy] There's tape recorders, and there was snow on December 25th, 1934. [Sammy] AND ALSO CTHULHU IS REAL. But other than that it's exactly the same. [GM] That's it, just those little things. [Henry] A minor detail.

[GM] Another question: Christmas is on a Tuesday, does the Studio get days off? [Joey] In the Cthulhu universe, yes… And It's All Henry's Fault.

[Jack] Anyone who failed their Sanity gain checks in '35 -- it's the anticipation. [Sammy] Yeah, it's just driving you absolutely bonkers that this prophecy still hasn't happened, can it go ahead and get it over with? I hate having this hanging over my head! [Sammy] And if you PASS your sanity check, and gained sanity, it could be that you're just INCREASINGLY IN DENIAL. Like, you know what? Maybe he forgot!

[Jack] Jack's the most likely to keep up with these poor people we keep roping into our nonsense! [Joey] Hey, HEY! [Jack] "Welcome to the group! You're only here for a little bit, but have some trauma! Trauma for you! And trauma for you! BYE"

[Sammy] We're like Absol. We're not CAUSING the trouble, but it IS in our wake, constantly. [Jack] Absol is 100% a modern teenage Joey Drew's fursona. [Joey] ….Yeah…

[Henry] Is it an easier apartment to get to, for Joey, than the one he has? [Joey] That is a really good question. [GM] It has ONE flight of stairs, but it doesn't have ten zillion flights, so I mean, it's better, probably! It DID have an evil ritual in it,

[Jack] *reading the inflation calculator* $1,000 in 1935 is… 22 thousand.. and a half… dollars????? [Joey] GREAT! *claps* STUDIO'S FUNDED! :D [Jack] Joey, no, [Sammy] You can do that with YOUR money, [Joey] I mean, that IS what's going to happen to Joey's money, Joey's just going to immediately dump it into the studio. Grant gets a LOVELY holiday present where suddenly, the numbers are not in the red anymore! [GM] This is how Grant doesn't become the final boss. [Sammy] Is that a present? IS THAT A PRESENT??? Grant looks at the numbers and they're suddenly bigger? WHAT'S HAPPENING [Jack] Sounds like a tax nightmare… he assumes his mind is broken, he's gone delusional, [Sammy] Joey's not thinking about how this affects TAXES he's just like, OH BOY! More money! Grant'll work that out. :) [Joey] Yeah! :D

[Sammy] Oh wow, mistletoe's been around for a while. [Sammy] …I say, as if mistletoe, the plant, is newly invented,

[Jack] We need to even the playing field; Henry's the highest, we need to drag him down to our level!

[GM] Let's say it's just you guys, and Peter and Susie, and Norman took off. [Sammy] Aw, don't wanna stay late? Old man, gotta get to bed? [GM] Maybe not if people are saying THAT at him,

*after finding a major ice rink was not built until 1936* [GM] Well, maybe everyone can do that when they DEFINITELY survive and come out victorious next year! :) [Sammy] ….survive?! Nothing's happened! It's a CHRISTMAS PARTY. [Jack] I HOPE we're surviving the Christmas Party, the food's not THAT bad, is it? [Henry] We solved your Christmas puzzle! [Jack] The Christmas Puzzle is how much food can we trick Joey into eating by handing it to him,

[Jack] Oh no, Spark's gone to… CATCOSA…. !

[Sammy] That's fine, Disney still hasn't caught up with us, so. [Jack] Well they're havin' this whole weird issue with like, ink and cultists, it's a bit weird… bunch of the staff started going missing…? [Sammy] *laughing* The entirety of Bendy and the Ink Machine happens, just OVER THERE. We averted it so now Disney has to do it.

[Henry] I will say, Henry's been a little uneasy all day. This doesn't affect anything, it's just for flavour. [GM] But he is in a really nice suit! [Sammy] Well THAT's why he's uneasy. They had to smooth his hair, and he's in a whole suit, [GM] In a vest that actually fits, [Henry] Unrecognisable. [Jack] Who is this stranger?

[GM] Make spot (hidden) checks! [Jack] *whispering* I hope it's Norman. [GM] Both of you spot a familiar face, before he's able to come accost you -- it's not Norman, it's Denis! [Sammy] oh gosh. [Joey] Well… I don't know if that's better or worse than my initial guess of Avedon,

[GM] He greets you all cheerful-like, "fancy meeting you here!" sort of thing-- [Sammy] Sammy still doesn't shake his hand. [GM] --he knows you as Joseph, doesn't he? [Joey] Oh no…. Joey was trying to hide his name in New Orleans… [Jack] That's fine, it's all about reinvention!

[Sammy] You know how in the Illusion of Living, Wally comes up and Joey randomly starts talking about how he's a great guy and a hard worker, and you're like, we were talking about something else ten seconds ago Joey PLEASE stay focused, [Sammy] Anyway, I'm imagining that but with Peter?

[Sammy] The Studio just had a big release last year, and I just got this really nice car! and *mumbling* those events aren't actually connected, BUT!! Through the power of leaving out the middle bit, you can assume they are!

[GM] Sammy, make a listen check! [Sammy] EXTREME SUCCESS, I rolled a THREE. [GM] Oh cool! Make a sanity check! [Sammy] oh no,,, [Joey] *Mario voice* HERE WE GO!

[Sammy] Sammy is gonna look at Joey, see that Joey is like…. in the midst of a conversational manoeuvre, and go, run try to find Jack. I don't know if he'll GET there, but, [GM] He can at least locate Jack, I would think, unless Jack is in a back room kissing boys or whatnot!

[GM] This guy is wearing a really severe, matte black suit, and has unnaturally white skin, his hair is black and very oiled in a severe widow's peak-- [Jack] It's him! Bendy Inkmachine!! [GM] I'm reading this description RIGHT from the book, I need you to know that.

[GM] The music's also definitely come to a stop, while all this was going on. And then there's a gunshot! And now there's just a big, yknow, panic, like you get! [Jack] Avedon's here! [Sammy] There'd be more French-accented yelling if Avedon were here. [Joey] I like how we're just going to end up willing Avedon into this scenario by making repeated "Avedon's here" jokes, [Jack] I mean, I've been trying to do the same with Norman, but it's either not working, or we haven't rolled Spot high enough to find him yet!

[GM] You guys get interviewed and asked what you saw, and what happened! [Sammy] …hang on, I gotta roll a check. [Sammy] *rolls* … OKAY COOL Sammy's back. [Joey] *laughing* Sammy interview, or Prophet interview? [Sammy] They were going to get a REALLY interesting interview if I rolled better on willpower!

[GM] Do you suppose Joey would've helped Susie shop for a dress that she could conceal a firearm in? [Joey] [Joey] sURE! [Joey] I mean I feel like, "would Joey help Susie shop for a dress," stop the sentence there: absolutely yes. There's other things to consider with dress? Well that just makes it a fun challenge now!

[GM] The police ask you what you saw. What do you tell them, about your experiences this evening? [Sammy] Sammy didn't see a lot. There was some commotion and a gunshot. [Joey] Yeah, I think Joey's just going to report that he just heard commotion happening up front, and quickly decided that he wasn't interested in commotion!

[Henry] Who was it who saw people with bloody eyes? [Sammy] Uh, that was Sammy, he's not mentioning that part.

[Jack] *rolls* Normal success for Jack. [Henry] *rolls* Hard success! [Sammy] *rolls* EXTREME success, I rolled a ten! [Joey] *rolls* …what's the fumble point, again?

[GM, as Denis] "There was a yellow sign at the Mardi Gras party last year! I thought it was a lucky charm, but I guess… it wasn't? I had a friend who said it wasn't, actually. You should watch out for those signs. Yes." [Joey] *so tired* Okay, that's… that's fine… [Henry] "Very helpful, thank you." [Jack] (This guy's great, can we keep him?) [Joey] (NO.)

[Henry] Henry is going to have so much anxiety. Like, just in general, but over this, too. [Sammy] "going to"??? [Henry] *laughing* No, you're right. What I'm learning is that Henry CAN slide into being mostly even-headed about crises, but he has to have a moment of "Oh God, oh fuck, oh geez" first. [GM] I think Peter does that in reverse. [Sammy] Yeah, that makes sense -- Sammy just shoots straight for "OH COOL, WE'RE GOING TO DIE!!!"

[GM] How much do you suppose these boys are up on vernacular and slang? [Henry] Henry might've picked up something from his kids, that's all I've got [Sammy] That's cute… Henry knows what yeet means... [Joey] I WAS ALSO GONNA SAY HENRY KNOWS WHAT YEET MEANS,

[Sammy] I do appreciate Jack being the one to notice that the prophecy might be a pun.

[Sammy] What do we even DO with this? What do we do next… [Joey] *muttering* That's what I've been trying to think of for the last like… half hour, Sammy…! [Joey] This isn't Joey-voice, this is just me-voice. [Jack] Yeah, Joey would never admit weakness in front of Peter Sunstram. [Joey] Yeah. Correct.

[Jack] Well if anyone else wants coffee, Jack might end up makin' some! [Jack] You know, that 11:30 coffee.

[Sammy] "Well, if he plays clarinet, let us know." [GM] Peter tips his head as if he's thinking of looking that up -- not looking it up, looking into it! [Jack] Yeah, just google it, Pete! What are you waiting for! [GM] On his cell phone, [Jack] You gotta pull out your Bendyphone! [Sammy] JDS is responsible for all anachronistic devices.

[Jack] Is It An Insanity Or Is It Just The ADHD

[Joey] Is Joey gonna make stupid decisions…? [Sammy] JOEY,,, [Sammy] Augh, I should've gone with him, [Joey] *rolls* *starts cackling maniacally* [Jack] *deadpan* Oh gee I wonder what the result is, [Joey] *audibly grinning* Joey might try to dream spell… Y? [Sammy] WHAT?! [Henry] Joey what are you doing…. [Sammy] JOEY DREW!!!

[Henry] I roll to see if Henry's "Joey's Doing Something Stupid" senses are tingling [Joey] Yeah, I think it's fair for Henry to have a "Is Joey Doing Something Stupid" sense that goes off fifty percent of the time, [Sammy] It's NOT USEFUL because it's ALWAYS HAPPENING,

[bengals-barnesbabe]

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Singer!FemReader

Summary: When the secret relationship between a famous singer and a popular quarterback is revealed no one could be happier. But when lyrics to an unreleased song are released, the strength of their relationship is questioned and tested when fans, reporters and exes start coming into the mix. Will you get your happy ending or is this the beginning of the end?

Chapter 13: 'i love you, goodnight' tour

#Track9 Masterlist

Warnings: 18+, mentions of sex, foul language.

Part One🖤

Word Count: 1.2k

Anxiety courses through your veins like hot lava as you wait for your name to be announced. You haven't done a live appearance like this since before you and Joe went public with your relationship, not one with an audience that is. During rehearsals Jimmy reassured you that it would be more fun than stressful, but that does not include the buildup to it. Usually you’d be texting or talking to Joey right now but he’s knee deep in meetings across the country so thats not an option. So its just you and your nerves.

“For tonight’s musical guest, we have the incredibly talented and beautiful Venus, she will be singing her latest single off of her new album ‘Tell Me You Love Me,’ everyone allow me to introduce Venus to the stage.”

 I guess that’s my cue.

Walking out to the lively applause and the smiling host helps you shed some of the nervousness that plagued you earlier. You and Jimmy share a quick hug before turning towards the audience and smiling and waving back.

“Venus, everyone. Wow, they might love you more than me.” He jokes as you both take your seats.

“Well, I love everyone here equally.” You wink at the audience causing a wave of laughter. “Thank you so much for having me, Jimmy.”

“The pleasure is all mine, the last time you were here you had just won your first grammy’s and there was someone else with you backstage that we’re missing today.” He lightly smirked. Fantastic start right.

“Its crazy that it was only a little over a year ago when my life completely changed. Then even more so in the last few weeks, everything is absolutely insane and I wouldn't wish for it any other way.” You widely grinned, dusting off the last part of his question.

“Thats great,” he says then pulls up a photo of you at the SuperBowl. “You surprised everyone when you joined Usher at this year’s SuperBowl, tell us how this came about.”

Your eyes crinkled up as the memory flooded your brain. “Of course, so for those who don’t know Usher is one of the big industry people that discovered me way back when, so he’s been like my mentor ever since. He called me in about November and told me that he was going to

headlining it and I was ecstatic for him. It was about time we had an Atlanta centered show, and then he asked me if I wanted to join him. I immediately said yes, like Usher just asked me to perform with him, I don't care what stage we’re on or even the fact that I know him personally. The man is an absolute legend and it was an honor to share the stage with him. Being apart of his surprise guests was so exciting and I was starstruck the entire time.” 

“Thats incredible, you were amazing up there and I hope we see you headlining it someday.” He winked.

“Who knows what the future holds.” You chuckled.

Then a picture of you and a certain someone shows up on the screen behind you cause the audience to start hollering and your face to heat up a bit. “Oh what do we have here, I have no idea how that got up there.” You smiled then shook your head.

“I’m just going to ask the question and see how far you want to go. How did this happen, where did this romance come from?” He says hiding his face behind his cards.

“God, I’d like to say that I don’t know, but that’s not true. You can thank LSU for that, we met at the beginning of our senior year and became really fast friends. There was always some kind of attraction on both ends, but we didn’t do anything about that until two years later. And we’ve been together ever since.”

“That’s cute, you guys look great together. So were together during your first appearance?”

“Yea, he was backstage with me trying to stop me from freaking out about performing for y'all.” Everyone cracked up at that one.

“I don’t know how you could be nervous about this, you are absolutely killing it. Now lets talk about the album, this track 9 controversy, what happened?”

“My lack of media training happened,” you huffed. “Im joking, but not really. I was really excited to put out this project and even more ready to actually show the world who I dedicated it to. I worked on this album for a really long time, it was like journaling an adventure and the hardest part was finding a way to condense 5 years into one album. In the end, we were all satisfied with what we made then what I thought was going to be a fun little peak at track 9 turned into absolute chaos.”

“For a few weeks, it seemed like every media outlet could not stop talking about this song and really giving Joe a bad rep in the process.”

“One that wasn’t deserved at all. Joe was such a good sport through the whole thing because he’s such a laid back guy. While I was basically preparing for war, he was the one calming me down about it. Everything was so fresh to the outside world that people just took it to an extreme that it was no where near. When artists release a body of work, I think fans skip past the time element. That particular song was written before I was even signed, I was still working my regular 9 to 5 in Louisiana and using songwriting as a way to cope with my feelings. And its extremely dramatized. For something to be entertaining that might be banal to most, you amp it up and Track 9 was taken from a 4 to a 10 in one session. By the time we were putting together this album, Leon Thomas III, absolutely incredible musician and producer, heard it and decided to rework it. When he was finished, everyone in the room was in love with it, we almost made it a single.”

“Its funny how things like that happen. Before we let you go and hit that stage, give us a little about the song you will be performing in a bit.”

“Absolutely, earlier this week I released ‘Prayer for the Broken’ as a single because I wanted to be able to give to communities that are struggling right now. This song is about how love is the only thing that can fix our broken world so all the proceeds that it brings in will be donated to multiple charities around the world, to help people and communities in horrid conditions. These charities are on my website so if anyone wants to donate straight to them, please do. This song means a lot to me and I hope everyone loves hearing it live.”

“Tonight only?”

“Live tonight AND this summer when I go on my ‘i love you, goodnight’ tour. I hope to see you all there and maybe I’ll bring some friends along too.”

🝮

“Ladies and Gentlemen give it up once again for Venus!”

<<<Previous Chapter | Next Part>>>

Main Masterlist

[fritz-federleicht]

You should do Corey, Joey, and Jim with reader who’s a model!

... with reader who's a model (Corey, Joey & Jim)

Words: 968

-----------------------------------------------

Corey:

- you remember many years ago when the first headline came up: Model Y/N and singer Corey Taylor a couple?

- that was the first time you were photographed together, Corey grinning and holding your hand while you laughed at one of his jokes

- he accompanied you to your apartment

- after that there were more and more rumors, positive and negative. Whereby it was more negative against Corey

- there were articles about your relationship. Why is a model like you with a bad boy like Corey Taylor? Or what do you see in him? Your relationship was not official yet

- you were not too famous as a model. You got jobs you liked to do. But there was one person you liked modeling for the most. And you do it over and over again. For Corey... well actually Slipknot. At some point he asked you if you could model for the store. Of course you didn't hesitate and said yes right away. Since then you model for every new collection

- when people suddenly saw you on the website it was clear that you and Corey are a couple. You officially confirmed your relationship

- all the attention didn't hurt you no. On the contrary. You got more jobs for designers that never considered you before

- whenever possible Corey accompanies you to fashion shows, sits in the audience and looks at you in love

- part of all the headlines were true. Corey was a bad boy. That's how you came to know and love him. But he quickly changed, became calmer and more relaxed because he finally had the love of his life with him

- eventually, all the headlines about you guys died down. The next ones were years later when you got married and later had your first child

- despite the fact that you are often far away from each other your relationship has lasted over the years and you are happy together

- Slipknot fans only know you as a couple

Joey:

- It is unusual to have a metal band as a guest at a fashion show, this night was probably the first time ever (maybe just because you begged the promoter to invite Joey)

- Slipknot is standing in front of the building, masks on and giving interviews

- you just wanted to check if they are already there, Joey sees you out of the corner of his eye and grins proudly under his mask

- next to him is Shawn answering a reporter's question

- you can't help it. You scurry to Joey and kiss the cheek of his mask, you can literally feel his smile

- as quickly as you came you are gone, the reporter and Shawn look confused. "Was that Y/N?"

- later the show starts, you look like a decorated Christmas tree

- you are supposed to end the show with your walk

- when it's finally time, you step onto the catwalk

- all nine members are sitting in the front row, Joey is sitting at the head

- it looks a bit funny, the men are sitting there bored in suits and masks

- when they see you they straighten up in their seats and watch your performance

- you pose at the end of the runway and turn around, wink at your boyfriend and disappear behind the wall

- Joey is speechless. How can you move so gracefully and seductively at the same time?

- Chris leans toward Joey, the long nose of his mask touching Joey's shoulder. He whispers. "You're really lucky." He pats your boyfriend's shoulder appreciatively

- after the show, pictures are taken with the models. Slipknot comes up to you immediately. They congratulate you on the successful performance

- Joey puts his arm around you. "You were wonderful honey."

- the photographer comes to your group and asks if he can take pictures, you agree

- Joey pulls you to his chest, the other members stand next to your sides like bodyguards

- days later the pictures appear in different fashion magazines, you find the strong contrast between your colorful outfit and the black suits funny

- in the future Joey accompanies you whenever he can

Jim:

- he really tries to be at every photo shoot or fashion show, to support you

- in the beginning he was not liked by the photographers because... well he is in Slipknot. But once they get to know him they find him quite nice. What should he do? Yell at everyone for no reason and destroy everything?

- when you're elegantly lolling in front of the camera he cheers you on, says things like "You look fantastic babe."

- in the breaks he comes to you immediately, asks if you are well, if you have eaten and drunk enough

- sometimes it happens that you model in your underwear, which Jim likes the most

- when you come out of the dressing room and are perfectly made up, he stands there with his mouth open

- when he first saw you like this, he came to you and said softly in your ear. "I think I'm in heaven. I just saw an angel."

- you slap his arm laughing, you've never heard such a corny line from his mouth before

- today he just stares at you, when you stand in front of a white wall and the light caresses you perfectly, nothing makes him happier than to see you like this

- when he then sees the resulting pictures... according to him they should be 'forbidden', no one else should get to see something like that except him...

- Jim keeps all the articles and pictures about you, he says he wants to show them to your kids later so they know how beautiful you are, but you know he just keeps them so he always has something of you with him on tour

[lordvikdreemurr]

Sammy Lawrence x Reader

smut<3

fem!reader btw!! Sammy is dom!

Sammy has been so needy all those years, deprived of any kind of touch and he recognize his favorite girl in the old workshop MEOOWW<3

(we don't have enough batim x reader💪 uh first time writing smut like that yk GRRR, lemme know if its good?)

You worked in this workshop a long time ago. Joey Drew Studios.

After everything had closed you decided to return there for the nostalgia and good memories spent working in this place you cherished so much. But when you stepped in here you heard the door close behind you and immediately panicked when it didn't open.

"What the fuck?..." You mumbled under your breath.

You looked behind you, it wasn't really welcoming anymore, you hesitantly started walking in. Ink dripping down the walls, the floor beneath you squeaked, you had an uneasy feeling.

You began to revisit the place, recognizing every part of the studio.

"AH!"

You went back into a corridor, a cardboard cutout of Bendy was placed there. In front of you. Although it was not here the first time you walked here. You stared at it as you walked past him. You turned your head and your eyes widened, a sort of...Boris, dead. Not just dead, His whole stomach...we could see his bones and you were disgusted, you had to leave.

You hurried your steps, you had to find items for this stupid ink machine. After gathering everything you went back to check on the machine but...... Was the door barricaded now?...

You approached it slowly.

You let out a scream as a creature appeared behind the boards, you gasped and didn't even have time to look at him that you were running for you life, ink was everywhere now, It drowned your feet, what the hell was happening. Didn't have time to think.

You made your way back to where you came from, the door. It was open. But before you could get to it the floor under you broke and you falled.

Ink splashed, it was really annoying. You got up and sighed, how long until this adventure would be done ? You frowned.

-

This place had become very big, you kept your axe in your hands as you continued on your way, you arrived in front of a inky path and stepped in it as you started making your way to the end of it you spotted someone passing by, holding a cardboard cutout of bendy under his arm, you could see his whole body was covered in ink. "Excuse me!? Hey! Can you help me?!"

You tried to get faster there and when you tried to see from where he left he wasn't there. Just a Bendy, again. Against a wall with a pentagram. You groaned and hit the bendy cutout with your axe. "Ugh! Seriously?!"

Later you arrived to the music department, after getting rid of monsters you approached a tape and made it work. You heard a familiar voice, and you knew who it was anyways. Sammy. It felt like forever, his voice was always relaxing and calm. Once was a time you were in love with him. You loved him so much, a small smile appeared on your lips as you brought back the memories, you had to get going though, so you walked away from it, holding tightly the axe.

You walked, you were starting to become familiar with the place again, even after the whole monster things and demon weird shit going on there. You turned around feeling a presence behind you, just to make s—

...

What the fuck. The man you saw earlier stayed still as he kept his shovel up in the air, was he going to fucking hit you and you caught him red handed?? Oh that was an awkward situation to be in... He silently stayed still before he grabbed your axe with a hand and pulled on it, getting you closer to him. You gasped as he got it out your hands and he threw it behind him. He then pushed you down on the floor, falling on your butt, you looked up at him as he got on his knees on top of you, you couldn't see his face behind that fucking mask, he grabbed your throat with his cold and inky hand and pushed you down to lay on the hard wooden floor on your back. "Urgh!" "Shh..Stay still."

This voice. "..Wha..." You stared at him for what seemed like an eternity before finally saying something. "Sammy?.." You could tell he got caught off guard. He rapproched his masked face close to yours, like he was analysing you. "....Y/N?" He said your name quietly. "I didn't expect to see you. How cute it is from you to come down there and visit me, my dear Y/N."

He placed down the shovel next to him and completely sat down on you, he leaned down. You frowned, annoyed. "What the hell happened here? And you..You.." "I know. Isn't it a beautiful place. Kept by our lord. And this body. What do you think happened my dear ?" You grabbed his wrist with your hands, it wasn't very comfortable having him grab your throat that roughly. "I've been rotting here for 30 years. I became something else." "Urgh..I saw that. God, Sammy..I missed you but can you remove your hand? Need to breath a lil y'know.." You weren't even going to question why he wanted to knock you out 5 minutes ago, you were even lucky you were still alive. He removed his hand and placed it on your cheek instead, you were a little bit surprised by the move. He brought his other hand up to his mask and raised it slightly up his mouth. You raised an eyebrow, confused before he placed his lips on yours, kissing you passionately. You didn't immediately kiss him back, still processing, your cheeks heated up. He breathed heavily, kissing you a bit more roughly and pushing his tongue in your mouth, getting a soft moan out of your lips, he loved this sound. He brought his hand down your waist, slipping it under your shirt to grab your breast and massage it slowly, he pulled away, you both catched your breath. He smirked slightly, enjoying your vulnerability as he sat still on you. "You really are a blessing from him, he blessed me with your divine presence, my love."

You quickly looked away, nervous. Everything was going a bit too fast for you to clearly understand what the fuck was going on. You hadn't seen him for 30 YEARS.

He stopped massaging your breast, bringing down his hand to your pants, he removed them quickly out of the way and looked down at your panties. You blushed heavily, he removed it too and lowered his suspenders, he lowered his overalls until he revealed his lenght, your lips parted slightly and looked up at him. "Are you sure about this? Right here?..." You asked quietly, unsure. He licked his lips, looking down at you, he placed himself between your legs. With a small smirk he grabbed your thighs and wrapped them around his hips. "C'mere."

You felt the tip of his hardened cock at your entrance before he pushed himself in you, earning a loud moan from you, you swear you heard him chuckle as you covered your mouth with your hand. "Oh no my dear, let those pretty sounds be heard. Its the most beautiful melody to my ears.." You gulped, hesitant. "What if someone hear us!?" You asked, worried about this whole thing. "Shh.. Don't worry, dearest. Now let me.." He started moving slowly in you, moving his hips. You whimpered softly, your cheeks red. Sammy was enjoying this as much as you, he grunted softly as he started speeding up, gripping your thighs. God, he haven't had pussy in years, but here you were, you were his.

He felt your walls clenching around his cock as he pounded in you and he lived for it, your reactions were so cute. He was panting looking into your eyes as he wanted to watch your every reactions.

He wanted to feel, mark, and own you, you were his to have and he was going to fuck you so hard the only word you would remember would be— "Sammy! Hh..!~" You moaned out his name, arching your back, wrapping your arms around his neck. He breathed heavily and leaned down, starting kissing you roughly, your muffled moans against his lips.

Skin slapping against skin. It almost echoed in the corridor.

You were surprised no one walked in here seeing you two fuck like animals. "Oh my love..I—..Ff..uuck..." He came inside you without warning and your orgasm didn't take long to come right after, cum dripping down your soaked hole. He pulled away from you and looked down at his art work, you grabbed his shoulders and pulled his body back against yours. "Huh?" "I love you, Sammy..." You breathed out, still panting. He smiled softly at you and placed a small kiss on your lips. "I love you too, dearest."

[bloody-peach]

Demonic Possession (BATIM smut: Ink Demon x F!Reader) [NSFW]

(art by Hikase555)

Goodie Bag: Vaginal sex, creampie, monster sex, biting/marking, breeding, fluff and smut, dry humping, grinding [please let me know if i'm missing anything].

Now Playing: The Rigs - Devil's Playground (click here to listen)

Taglist: @omniuravity @eldritch-affair and any other fellow monster/demon fuckers!

~~~♡♡♡~~~

A/N: Oooh man, the monster fucker in me is salivating over Ink Demon rn. I couldn't find a lot of Ink Demon smut (if any) so I made one myself. A few things before we start. 1) The ink demon will not be referred to as Bendy in this, just 'the Ink Demon'. I go against canon and see Bendy and the Ink Demon as separate entities, so it applies here. 2) the look of the Ink Demon in this story is going by hikase555's design. The header image is by them, but here's another one for further reference: [click here]. 3) I had my boyfriend help me with the intro, so if there appears to be a slight disconnect in writing styles at the start, that is why. One last thing: if you ever get confused on how kissing works in this, the kisses work pretty much like how it worked in this image: [click here]. Ok, on with the show!

~~~♡♡♡~~~

Bending through the corridors of the Cycle left closed and locked away, a sound painfully wailed behind the walls. He once found comfort being given form, but now he dreads the very existence left to be his fate; why must ink demons have heat cycles?

The Ink Demon knew that his heat would start today, it started the same time each year (wait, do years even go by in the cycle?). He would usually be able to control it by pleasuring himself in many different ways, and it would usually work, but now he was insatiable. He needed to find a mate or else lose his mind trying to hold off til the end of his cycle, which he knew he couldn't do.

As he ran through the list of potential candidates in his head, a shrill scream rang out through the halls. It wasn't a scream he recognized as anyone from the studio, so he went to investigate. He followed the commotion to find a chase between the Projectionist, and a woman he'd never seen before. A smile grew on the Ink Demon's face. Maybe this was his chance.

-Some time before-

You heard the rumors about the abandoned studio from the 1930s near your apartment from many people, but never really believed them. However, the mystery of what could be inside the surprisingly intact building enticed you to go see for yourself. When you entered the studio, everything around you turned black and sepia. You walked through the halls and explored the many rooms, to the point where it seemed endless.

But you soon found that, unfortunately, you were not alone.

Many humanoid blobs made of ink and morphed versions of the Bendy characters would try to attack you, at an increasingly growing rate. You were able to outrun them, but you started to grow paranoid over whether they'll be back. Nevertheless, you kept exploring, but you carried a makeshift weapon (you found a broken piece of pipe). You walked into a room where there was a projector running, displaying some footage for some TV special with Joey Drew as the host. You took a closer look at the projector, impressed by its ability to still run after all these years. But then, you noticed ink starting to drip down the projector. The ink formed into a puddle and then grew into a body, attaching to the projector. It lifted it off the stand and was now a walking ink being with the projector as its head. The creature turned to you and let out a terrifying shriek, then started to charge at you. You dodged it and ran out of the room, the projector being chasing you.

-Now-

You ran and ran as fast as you could but you could hear that projector being catching up to you. Soon, to your horror, you hit a dead end. You turned to see your demise coming closer and closer. You put your arms up in a defensive position and shut your eyes tight, waiting for a swift death. But then there was a loud sound and then, silence. You slowly opened your eyes and saw the projector on the ground, separated from the demon's body. You put your arms down and almost jumped when you saw who killed it.

It was a 7 foot tall, malformed figure with skin made of black ink that almost looked like tar, appearing to have a fit human torso, legs, and arms, but with a very small waist. His head looked like Bendy's, but it looked like someone dumped ink on his head, making him look melted. It covered his eyes, so you couldn't see them, if he even had any. His horns were curved and almost looked like a crescent moon, almost. His smile matched Bendy's, but it was much wider. His left hand had 4 fingers and was wearing a white, ink-stained glove, while the other hand had 5 fingers and wore nothing. While you couldn't help but blush as you looked at him, you noticed that he wasn't trying to attack you. He was just...standing there, looking at you.

He stood motionless, his gaze fixed on you. His presence felt unnerving and sinister as he slowly approached you, a faint smile curling at the corners of his mouth. You started to relax as your fear started to dissipate. When you saw its smile, you couldn’t help but feel a blush appear on your cheeks. The Ink Demon's smile widened as he continued to approach you, his steps slow and deliberate. His gaze, intense and penetrating, never left your face. He then knelt in front of you, his head in front of your chest, which brought a lump to your throat for some reason. Maybe it was the invasion of personal space.

You felt a bit of unease in your stomach due to his gaze, but you figured he was safe, since he saved you from that projector thing. You cautiously reached your hand out and you gently put your hand on his cheek. As your fingers made contact with the Ink Demon's face, his inky skin felt cool and smooth to the touch. The ink didn’t stick to your fingers, much to your surprise. He remained still for a moment before slowly tilting his head slightly, resting his head in your hand, a low purr in his throat. It seemed that he found comfort in your touch.

You reached your other hand to touch his other cheek and you couldn’t help but smile warmly, realizing he wasn’t like the other monsters in this building, and that your assumption of him being safe was right. The Ink Demon's expression seemed to glimmer with a mix of curiosity and something akin to affection as you held his head in your hands. You felt as he slowly placed his large hands around you, like he was holding a doll. The Ink Demon's grip on you was surprisingly gentle, his ink-covered hands enveloping you with an almost protective hold. He was handling you like you were made of glass and if he moved wrong or squeezed you too tight, you’d shatter to pieces.

His gaze remain fixed on your face, his expression filled with a strange sense of connection. You couldn’t deny that you felt that connection too, along with a warm feeling in your chest. You thought about how sweet this demon was being, that maybe this was its true nature. You then thought about how it must’ve been so long since he’s seen anyone here that wasn’t a monster out for blood, and how lonely he must’ve been. After that thought, you felt a sense of compassion for this creature and you leaned forward and laid a soft kiss on his head.

The Ink Demon seemed surprised by the action, because it backed up a bit. You felt like you did something wrong, so you said, “I-I’m sorry. Was that too much..? I..I...” That’s when the Ink Demon slowly shook his head, his face softening as he continued to hold you. He reached up with one hand and gently touched the spot where you kissed him, a small smile forming on his face. Something told you that he really liked that. After that, he lifted you up and took you to another room.

The next thing you knew, you were in a room with a makeshift bed in the middle of the room. Must’ve been where the Ink Demon slept, you figured. As he placed you on the mattress and stood in front of you, you wondered why he brought you here, until you thought more on it.

Why else would someone bring you to their room? Because they want you to stay.

You look at the Ink Demon and ask, “You..want me to stay with you, don’t you?” The Ink Demon's smile widened slightly, and he nodded in response to your question. He released his grip on you but took your hand and gently held it, as if urging you to stay. Well, it wasn’t like there was anything for you outside of the building. You had no one waiting for you, no one to be worried about you if you disappeared. Plus, it’s not like there was a possible exit to this place anyways. So you looked at the demon and smiled, saying, “Alright. I’ll stay with you.” The Ink Demon's eyes lit up with a mixture of gratitude and excitement, then he nuzzled the top of your head and licked your cheek.

You felt a stinging pain on your cheek, so you touched where he licked and there was blood. Turns out you got hurt as you ran away from that Projector Demon. You noticed you got a few scratches on your cheek and on the side of your neck and on your shoulder, all bleeding. “Shit...” you said to yourself. The Ink Demon tilted his head slightly, observing your injuries with a mix of curiosity and concern. Slowly, he went to your cheek again. The Ink Demon’s long, inky tongue snaked out from his mouth and delicately licked at the blood on your wounds. As you felt the stings, you noticed that even though he was terrifying and intimidating, he was still being so gentle with you. As he continued to clean your wounds, a low growl rumbled in his chest, almost as if he was trying to comfort you. You felt a blush form on your cheeks and when you heard his comforting purr, you felt touched that he cared about you enough to comfort you through the pain.

He then moved from your cheek to your neck and shoulder. You felt his hot breath on your neck, his tongue slowly caressing it as he cleaned up the blood. It sent a heat down to your very core and you could feel yourself getting hot from this. As he slid his tongue down to your shoulder wound, you accidentally let out a soft moan. In response, the Ink Demon’s purr deepened as he continued to lick your wounds. His tongue brushed against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His gaze stayed locked on you as he continued to lick you, seemingly lost in thought.

He went towards the spot between your shoulder and your neck and he growled again, but a bit louder this time. He then bit down gently on your skin, drawing a bit of blood. A small, almost unnoticeable amount of ink dripped from his teeth onto your skin, sinking into the bite as he marked you as his. You gasped softly as he bit you, but not out of pain. The ink seemed to numb any pain the bite would've caused and it actually intensified your heat. You couldn’t help but start to feel aroused from his bite, his tongue, his touch, his everything. The Ink Demon’s growling deepened as he continued to leave more marks on your shoulder, now with more purpose than before. He could sense your arousal, and it only served to fuel his own. He knew that you had to be his mate, there was no denying it. He wanted you oh so badly, his very being was screaming for him to devour you.

You couldn’t help but reach your hands out and touch him. You wanted to feel his skin, to know that what you were experiencing was real. The Ink Demon purred, reveling in the warmth of your touch. You gently touch his arm, trailing your fingers along his slick inky skin. You reached his hand and after feeling his palm and fingers, you gently intertwined your fingers with his, holding his hand. He smiled warmly and leaned down slightly, pressing his forehead against yours and allowing your intertwined fingers to rest between you. You blushed red and you felt a warm and tight feeling in your chest. Were you starting to fall for this gentle beast?

You started to trail your other hand down his chest and along his stomach, feeling how smooth his skin was. The Ink Demon inhaled deeply, his body shuddering slightly at your touch. He gazed at you, his cheeks flushed and his smile so warm and inviting. He reached out with his other hand, placing it on the small of your back and pulling you closer to him. You gasp softly at his touch, sending shivers down your spine. “Y..You can..t..touch me too...i..if you want,” you were able to say softly.

The Ink Demon pressed his lips against yours, the kiss gentle and slow. His hand moved up your back, tracing the curve of your spine and pulling you even closer to him. His other hand trails down your side, resting on your hip as he explored your body. You kissed him back, letting a moan escape into his mouth. The Ink Demon smiled, pulling away from your lips to kiss your cheek and neck. His hand moved down to your thigh, slowly tracing its contours as he pulled you even closer to him. You sighed softly as his fingers traced along your thigh, opening your legs slightly to let him touch even more of you. The Ink Demon's hand moved further up your thigh, slipping beneath the hem of your dress and exploring the smooth skin beneath. He pressed his forehead against yours, letting out a purr and allowing himself to fully experience the sensations that were running through him. You felt your body heat up more as his hand slid up your dress, and you decided to just speed up the process for him. “H..Here...let me help you..”

You undid your dress and let it slide off of you, leaving you nude except for your panties. You heard a deep lust-filled purr in his throat once you were nude. He gently laid you onto the mattress, ready to prepare you for him. The Ink Demon moved his hand up to your breast, squeezing it gently and exploring the contours of your body with his fingertips as he kissed your neck and shoulder, licking the fresh bite mark and your wounds. He pressed his groin against yours, feeling the heat between your legs as he explored your body with his hands, mouth, and tongue. You moaned as you felt the heat from between his legs touch yours. You couldn't help but slowly rub your groin against his, so he felt as good as he was making you feel.

The Ink Demon smiled, admiring your desire for him. His hand moved up to your face, cupping your cheek as he leaned in to kiss your lips again. He pressed his groin against yours, feeling your warm, wet center against him as you both move against each other, your bodies intertwined and your breaths becoming heavier and faster. The Ink Demon moved his hips against yours, feeling your body shudder with pleasure as you came closer and closer to release. He slipped his hand down to your panties, feeling the wetness between your legs as he ripped them off, exposing you to him completely.

Once your panties were gone, you felt something touch your pussy. You look down and you saw something growing from his groin, which formed into a large cock, matching his skin. The Ink Demon smirked as he grabbed your thighs and rubbed his cock on your pussy for a bit, until he slipped his hand between your bodies, guiding his cock inside of you, gripping both your thighs and slowly pushing himself deep inside. You couldn’t help but let out a moan as he stretched your walls so deliciously. He leaned forward, grabbed your jaw, and kissed your lips, his tongue exploring your mouth as he feels your body writhe beneath him. He started doing long and deep thrusts, your bodies entwined and your breath coming in short, gasping breaths as you both feel the pleasure building within you both.

You had never felt this sort of ecstasy before in your life, not even with any other partner. This thing was reaching depths you never knew were possible, sensitive spots you didn’t even know you had. “Ahh..! S..So..good..!!” you couldn’t help but let out of your lips once he broke the kiss. The Ink Demon's hand moved down to your ass, squeezing it gently as he thrusted into you, feeling your body shudder with pleasure. He kissed your neck and shoulder, his tongue exploring the contours of your skin as you both come closer and closer to release. He could feel his cock throb inside of you, the pleasure building within him as he moved faster and faster, feeling her body writhe beneath him.

He changed position slightly as he lost himself in the pleasure, grabbing your wrists and putting them above your head, your legs a bit in the air as he leaned towards you more and thrusted harder into you. You moaned at each thrust, trying not to cry out loud. The Ink Demon let his tongue out and licked up your belly and breasts as he fucked you so well. Ink dripped from his tongue, leaving trails on your body, like you were his canvas for his lust-filled creation.

He kissed your lips once again, feeling your tongue explore his mouth as you both came closer and closer to release. Finally, he felt your body convulse beneath him, your pussy clenching around his cock as you came, your moans filling the air as you cry out in ecstasy. He follows soon after, letting out a primal roar and feeling his cock throb as he filled you full with his hot, sticky seed. You felt like you were in another realm than you were as the pleasure from your release flowed throughout your body and you arched your back. All that existed was your full womb, the cock inside you, your body, and pleasure. You could feel his seed fill your belly so much that the sensation caused a second orgasm to rock your body.

Once you come back to reality, you both stay like that for a moment, your bodies intertwined and covered in each others’ cum as you both caught your breath, before the Ink Demon collapsed onto the bed, laying next to you and pulling you close. The Ink Demon kissed your cheek, feeling your smile as you both lay there, your hearts pounding in your chests. You hugged him close, your head resting on his chest. He then leaned to your ear and whispered in a deep, gravelly voice, “I love you.” While you were a bit surprised he could actually talk, you felt warmth flood your heart and you smile, kissing his cheek before saying, “I love you too.” The Ink Demon smiled, feeling his heart swell with warmth as he hugged you tightly. He rested his chin on top of your head, closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling of your warm body pressed against his. You both lay there, holding each other close, until eventually, you both fall asleep, your bodies still intertwined.

‘I think I’m going to love this new life,’ you thought to yourself before letting sleep take you.

~~~♡♡♡~~~

[crazyw3irdo]

THAT FUCKING RULED

Nerdy Prudes Must Die come out on YouTube today!!

Also they've finished making Workin' Boys, and they've scheduled performances

sooooon !!!!

[babybluebex]

long lost love: before | joseph quinn x fem!reader

summary: part one of two! on your first day at the london academy of musical and dramatic arts, you meet a sweet boy, and you quickly grow close. two years of dating go by, but, when you suspect that joseph is cheating on you, you make an irreversible decision. pairing: joseph quinn x fem!reader (rpf - don't like, don't read) tags: accusations of infidelity, smut (MINORS DNI) - p in v sex, mentions of blowjobs - jealousy, lots of cute joey, wes makes several appearances, lots of suspect behavior from joe , a poor understanding of how LAMDA operates author's note: hi babes! thanks for reading this fic, and i don't have much to say other than enjoy! only one more part after this!

When you first saw him, your heart nearly stopped. 

You didn’t know who he was; nobody really knew anybody else here. It was only orientation, and the room was full of hopeful young musicians and actors that were waiting for their education. The energy in the room was anxious and electric, and your eye was drawn to nearly every person that walked in, wondering what their aspirations were. Maybe some wanted to be directors or producers or music engineers. It was usually easy to spot the real talent in rooms like that, the kids that would really make it far, and you suppose that’s why you saw him almost instantly. 

He wore the little badge with his name around his neck, looking cute and sweet with a nervous little smile on his face and a shaggy dark blond hairdo. Eighteen years old; when you thought back to him and looked at old pictures, you wondered if he ever regretted that hairstyle. He wore thick black glasses over his dark brown eyes, a small black earring in his left ear. He was cute, maybe even hot, but there was something about him, something magnetic, and you couldn’t help but wonder what his deal was. You could tell, just by his energy, that he was one of your fellow actors, and you looked at the seat beside you, empty and awaiting someone. Maybe he would sit by you and you could talk to him. Although, knowing yourself, you would be too shy to really talk to this cute guy.

The sweet and cute shaggy-haired boy spotted the empty chair quickly, and he scooted past other people in the row to get to it. He threw you a quick smile— braces on his teeth— and, in a soft voice, asked, “Is this seat taken?” 

“No,” you told him quickly, moving over a little bit on your own seat to show just how empty the chair next to you was. 

“Thanks,” he said, and your heart slammed in your chest as he sat down. He smelled good, like expensive cologne that he probably got when he graduated from secondary school, and he gave you that smile again before he said your name. 

“Huh?” you asked. How did he know your name?

He pointed at the badge around your neck, the one with your name and “ACTING ACADEMY” printed on it, and he said your name again. 

“Oh, right,” you chuckled, and you looked at his own badge. “JOSEPH QUINN: ACTING ACADEMY”. “Do you go by Joseph, or, like, something else?” 

“Really only my mum calls me Joseph,” he said. “My friends all call me Joe.” 

“Joe,” you said. “Looks like we’re gonna be classmates.” 

“Looks like it,” Joe chuckled. “What dormitory are you staying in?” 

“Umm, I’m not,” you said. “I’m actually from London, so I live with my family.” 

“Oh, cool,” Joe said. “We have something in common!”

“Do we?” you smiled, and you pushed your hair behind your ear nervously. “That’s cool. Where are you from?” Before Joe could answer, you added, “Wait! Can I guess?” 

“Go for it,” Joe laughed. “Only if I get to guess where you’re from.” 

“You’ll never guess right,” you chuckled. 

“Oh, I’ll try,” Joe laughed. 

The whole day, your conversation never stalled, not even once orientation started. You whispered to each other and giggled like children, even after you were fussed at by the orientation leader, and Joe just smiled and tried to keep his laughter down. Finally, the day ended with Joe stuttering out a request for your phone number. “Really?” you asked. “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah,” Joe said. “I think you’re… Well, I think you’re fit, and you’re really funny, a-and, yeah… You don’t have to, but I thought I’d ask—” 

You leaned in and placed your lips on his cheek for just a moment, just long enough to feel the warm blush he had, and, when you pulled back, his blush had invaded his whole face, even up into his hair. “Sure,” you told him. “I’d love to do that.” 

“Cool,” Joe said, and he tugged his phone out of his jeans pocket and passed it to you as he took a deep breath. “That’s cool… Umm, I’ll text you.” 

“Sounds good,” you said. “I’ll see you at class, Joey.” 

“Joey?” he repeated. “Nobody really calls me that.”

“Well, now I do,” you told him, and you bit your lip and smiled. “Bye, Joey.” 

What you didn’t know was that, when Joe got home, he immediately told his mother about the awesome girl he had met. What you didn’t know was that he told his best friend since childhood about you, sighing and saying, “Wes, I met her.” When Wes asked “Her?”, Joe rolled onto his back and imagined your smile and said “Her! My girl, the one I’m gonna be with forever! I met her today!” 

What Joe didn’t know was that, when you got home, you told your own mum about him, and you said, “He’s gonna do great things someday. I know it.” When your mother asked, “How do you know?”, you shrugged and said “I just do. Good things come to good people, and Joey… He’s gonna do amazing things.” 

It didn’t take very long for Joe to ask you out. You had talked every day, sharing most of your classes, and he was a great friend, funny and smart and loyal. It was hardly two weeks into the term when he stopped you after a lecture one day and said, “Hey, umm, my friend and I are gonna go to the movies tonight, and I-I was wondering if you wanted to come with us.” 

“Really?” you asked. “That’s nice. I’d love to go.”

When Joe picked you up at your house that night, he seemed nervous. His friend, a blond boy named Wes, was in the backseat of his car, letting you ride in the passenger seat, and the three of you talked up a storm. You had fun with them, but the real heart-pounding fun started once the lights went down in the theater. 

The movie was fine, suspenseful but predictable, but Joe’s hand kept lingering over to yours before withdrawing, like he didn’t mean to keep touching your hand. You wondered if he would make up his mind— will he or won’t he?— and finally, he committed and held your hand properly. It was adorable how nervous he seemed, and your lips tingled. You wanted to kiss him.

Towards the end of the movie, the darkness around you seemed encroaching suddenly, and you took the opportunity to clutch to Joe’s arm, squeezing his hand. He looked at you and smiled softly, and he leaned in and whispered, “Are you scared?” 

“No,” you mumbled. Your face went hot, though, and you added, “Maybe a little.” 

“I’ll protect you,” Joe chuckled softly, and he removed his arm from your grasp to sling it over your shoulders, drawing you right up against his warm body, barred only by the armrest between you. He rested his cheek against your head, holding you close as the movie finished, and you caught Wes’s smile as the lights came up.  

“Y’know,” Wes started as you waited for Joe outside the restrooms. “You’re all he talks about.” 

“Really?” you asked. “I mean, I think he’s pretty cool, and I talk to my mates about him a lot too…”

“He’s been dying to make a move on you,” Wes told you, and the heat returned to your face. “But he’s also kinda a pussy when it comes to asking girls out; I’m surprised he even managed to ask you to the movie. Basically, all I’m saying is… Don’t count him out.” 

“I’m definitely not,” you told Wes. “In fact, I… I was planning on kissing him tonight.” 

“Good luck,” Wes said. Then, his eyes flicked behind you, and he added, “Shit, here he comes, act cool.” 

You laughed as Joe approached the two of you, and Joe asked, “What’s so funny?” 

“Oh, umm, nothing,” you giggled. “Wes just made a joke.” 

You could feel Wes’s gaze on you as he lingered behind you and Joe as you walked to the car park, Joe’s pinky finger nudging yours every so often. Carefully, you captured his finger with yours, linking you together, and Joe adjusted his glasses as a pink blush filled his face. 

The ride back to your house was quiet, all things considered, the tension between you and Joe so thick that Wes could have swam in it, and the tension only snapped when Joe offered to walk you to the door. “Oh, you don’t have to,” you sighed, even though you knew what that meant. You had seen plenty of romantic movies— if Joe walked you to the house, you would exchange an awkward but pleasant conversation before he tried to kiss you. Your heart thudded in your chest as Joe shrugged, and he said, “It’s not a bother.” 

In the electric buzz of your mum’s porch light, Joe took your hands and laced your fingers together, and he mumbled, “Alright, so, I’m sure you’ve figured out by now how much I fancy you. And it was nice of you to, like, hold my hand and let me put my arm around you and shit, but you-you don’t have to pretend or anything.” 

“Who said anything about pretending?” you asked. “Joey, I’m an actor, but I’m not that good of an actor. I really fancy you too.” 

“Do you?” he asked, his eyes rounding with hope. “Do you really?” 

“I do,” you said softly. The pounding of your heart was getting overwhelming, and you squeezed his hands. “I really do.” 

“Awesome,” Joe chuckled. “Umm, c-can I kiss you? Before I leave?” 

“I…” you started, halfway embarrassed about this. “I’ve never been kissed before.” 

“That’s okay,” Joe told you. “That’s not something to be ashamed about. Do you want me to kiss you?”

“I… I’d like that a lot,” you told him carefully, and Joe gave you a relieved smile. Slowly, making sure not to move too quickly and scare you, he leaned in and gently pressed his lips to yours. Your eyes slipped closed as your arms moved to swing around his neck, and he held your hips tightly as he titled his head and deepened the kiss just a bit. His lips were soft, and he tasted like cherry Chapstick, and you sighed as you pulled away to break the kiss. As far as first kisses went, you considered it a pretty damn good one, and you laughed softly as you looked down at your feet. 

“Thanks, Joey,” you told him. “Umm… Do you wanna be my boyfriend? Y-You can say no! But I just really fancy you and—”

Joey kissed you again to stop your blathering, smiling against your lips, and, when you pulled away, his glasses were a little bit askew. “I’d love that,” he said. And that was it. Easy peasy. 

From then on, you and Joey were inseparable. You hung out between classes, had dates every Friday night, stayed over at each other’s places for the weekend. It wasn’t long before Christmas holiday came, and you kissed your first boyfriend at midnight as the new year rang in. Joey was your first everything: he was your first boyfriend, your first kiss, the very first boy you ever loved. 

He was also your first time, which was a point of contention. By the time the new term rolled around, you knew how impatient he was getting. He never would have admitted it to you and would have denied it to the ends of the earth had you asked him, but he was a, by then, nineteen year old boy— he probably had wanted to fuck you since the first day you met. But you were nervous, and kept postponing it. You had done little things to try to alleviate some of his waiting, rubbing him through his jeans and letting him feel up your shirt, but going all the way was daunting. You told him as much the first time he tried to get in your pants, and Joey was understanding. “We can wait,” he said. “It doesn’t matter to me, truly. I just want you to be comfortable.” 

Finally, summer holiday came, and you decided that enough was enough. By now, Joe and Wes were renting a flat not far from campus, and you spent most of your time there, but now that you were unencumbered by classes, all of your time was spent there. You had practically moved in with them— you kept clothes in Joe’s closet, a toothbrush by the sink, tampons in the bathroom— and, one night, Wes packed a bag. “I’m staying at Liam’s for the night,” he told you when you inquired, and you childishly puckered your lips and made kissy noises at Wes as Joe cooed at him teasingly. Liam was Wes’s current boyfriend, and Wes had gushed to you about how he thought Liam was “the one”, and you poked at him absolutely relentlessly about it, but you were just happy that Wes was happy. 

“Have fun,” Joe called as Wes left the flat, and no sooner was the door shut and locked than were you straddling Joe’s waist and kissing him. He grunted in surprise and grabbed at your waist as he kissed you back, and it was only once you broke the kiss that he asked, “Darling, what’re you doing?” 

“I’m fucking done with being scared,” you told him. “I know that you’re good, that you won’t hurt me or anything like that, and virginity is such bullshit anyway, it’s not real, so who cares?”

“Love,” Joe said lowly. “Are you really sure? Because we can wait if you want, I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything, I’m okay waiting however long you want.”

“I don’t want to wait anymore,” you told him. “I want you.”

“Alright,” Joe sighed. “Okay. Fuck, all my condoms are old, I don’t—” 

“I’m on the pill,” you told him softly. “Got on it just for you.”

“Oh, don’t say that, you’ll give me an ego,” Joe chuckled. “And a boner, but that’s already happening.”

“You’re so funny,” you told him, and you kissed him again. “Make love to me, Joey.”

That night, Joe did as you asked, and he made love to you for the first time. He undressed you slowly, taking his time to care for you and love on you, sucking on your skin and feeling you in his hands, and he laughed softly when you carefully took off his glasses and set them on the bedside table. “You look so handsome like this,” you told him, and Joe eagerly kissed you, spreading your legs to wrap around his waist. 

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever fucking seen,” Joe told you, and you kissed him deeply. 

Joey held your hands as he slid deep inside you, shushing you when you whined at the unfamiliar stretch and burn, and he rested his forehead against yours and watched you react to every roll of his hips. His eyes stayed locked on yours intensely, heightening every sensation, and each panted breath was met with a kiss. Before long, you felt that knot tightening in your belly, and you whimpered, “Baby, I’m gonna cum.” 

“Me too,” Joe huffed out. “Want you to cum first.” 

It wasn’t much longer before you were squeezing your legs around his hips and throwing your head back as his fingers met your throbbing clit, and you moaned as you came, the fuzzy feeling in your stomach invading your head and taking your breath away. He wasn’t far behind you, pulling out just in time to spill all over your stomach, and his reddened chest heaved with heavy breaths as he pulled himself out of bed and found a towel to clean you off with. “You alright?” he asked, wiping at the remnants of himself that laid on your belly and chest, and you threaded your fingers in his hair and pulled him into a kiss. 

“I’m alright,” you told him. “I…”

“Yeah?” Joe asked expectantly. 

“I love you,” you whispered to him, and the flush in his chest crawled up his neck to his cheeks and ears. 

“You do?” Joe asked, his eyes big and round and hopeful. You loved his eyes. 

“Of course I do,” you told him. “I’ve loved you for a long time, I’ve just been… I don’t know, too scared to tell you until now. But I’m not scared anymore. About anything” 

Joey leaned down and softly kissed you again, and he mumbled, “I love you too.” 

If you thought you were inseparable before, nothing compared to that summer. Most of your time was spent in each other’s arms, fighting off the heat in bed together. Now that every boundary had been broken down, you weren’t afraid or hesitant anymore, and Joe liked it. He was more affectionate than before, always trying to kiss you or hug you as you cooked dinner, dragging you into bed whenever he got the notion, and you indulged him every time. 

Also that summer, Joe turned into a man. He invested in contact lenses during the break, got his braces off, cut the ridiculous mop on his head, and took out his earrings (you cried, because the earring was just so cute) and your boyfriend’s burgeoning maturity only made you want him more. God, he was the most handsome man you had ever seen. He was better than those stars in the movies that he took you to see on date night, and he was better because he was yours. 

When the term started back, you noticed something about your boyfriend. Before, girls didn’t really take notice of him. Maybe the lone girl who giggled at him when he goofed off in class, but everyone knew that you and Joe were an item. You were the “it” couple at LAMDA, everybody knew you, but, with all of the physical changes that Joe made, came more competition. Suddenly, girls were trying to talk to him more often, pair up with him for breathing exercises or short film projects— you were almost twenty by now, you were an adult, but jealousy still flared in your stomach. 

And Joe. Your sweet Joey never really saw it. He mentioned it off the cuff a few times, mostly joking when you were sullen after finding out that he had been asked out again by some girl— ”Aw, baby, are you jealous?”— but you never let him know the full extent of your jealousy. He didn’t need to know. You were just his girlfriend, not his controller. If he wanted to talk and flirt with other girls, that was his business; after all, he was fucking you and not them. You were never worried that he would cheat on you, because you knew his heart was good and that he would make reasonable decisions. 

In retrospect, you both should and shouldn’t have been worried. 

Just after your two year anniversary, weeks before Joe’s 21st birthday, an opportunity fell into his lap. “An audition,” he told you excitedly. You sat on the couch in his flat, legs drawn up under you as you read the email on his computer that he had presented you, declaring that a new BBC show was casting young men ages 18-25 for a role in their new period piece. “I got an audition.” 

“Oh, Joey!” you crooned and put the computer aside, sitting up and hugging him tightly. “You remember our audition class last year? You aced it! You’re gonna do great, I know it.” 

“I’m so nervous,” Joe admitted, rubbing your back as he buried his face in your neck. “What if I don’t get it?” 

“But what if you do?” you asked. “Baby, you can’t discount yourself, you’re perfect for this! I always knew you’d do great things, and this is just the start. And so what if you don’t get it? The fact that you even auditioned is amazing. I’m so proud of you.” 

“I love you so much,” Joe whispered. “Thank you for sticking by my side.” 

“Of course,” you told him. 

The next week was his audition with the BBC, and you fretted all day. You felt sick and called out from class that day to stay home and wait, and, when the door to the flat opened and Joe bustled in, you couldn’t wait anymore. “So?” you asked eagerly. “How’d it go?” 

“Good,” Joe said simply, unwinding his scarf from around his neck. 

“Just good?” you asked. “Tell me all about it! Who was there, what happened—”

“Well, love, I’m under contract, I can’t really talk about that,” Joe said, and you sighed. 

“Yeah, but I’m your girlfriend, contracts don’t count when—” and you stopped yourself. “Wait, contract? What contract?” 

Joe was quiet, but his smile was a mile long. “A BBC contract,” he said finally. “They offered me the role at the audition.” 

You couldn’t help yourself. You screamed and jumped up, and you flew into Joe’s arms and squeezed him around his middle. “Oh my God!” you cried, kissing him all over his warm and pink face. “Joe! No way!” 

“I have a job,” Joe said, proud of himself, and you kissed his lips before you laughed. 

“What did I tell you?” you said. “Don’t count yourself out! Oh, baby, I’m so proud of you! What’s your character’s name?” 

“Arthur,” Joe told you. “Arthur Havisham.” 

“Arthur,” you repeated, and you kissed him again. “Oh, my sweet boy, I knew you could do it.” 

To celebrate his accomplishment, you went out to dinner that night, leaned in, smiling and laughing together as you shared a bottle of wine. When you got home, the flat was empty— Wes was at Liam’s again— and you went down on Joe. His hands clutched your hair and he filled your mouth, and he reached down and kissed you, whispering “I love you” as you swallowed his spend. 

The show, a quaint period piece called Dickensian, started filming in the new year, and you were excited for him. In the weeks preceding the shoot, he had costume fittings and hair and makeup tests, and you went with him to everything that you could manage while still attending your classes. He was the talk of the town at LAMDA— a third year acting student getting cast in a large-scale BBC production didn’t happen often— and everyone seemed to know him and, by extension, you. As much as Joe had a role to play, so did you: the supportive girlfriend. Of course you were proud of him and never said otherwise, but he was all anybody wanted to talk to you about anymore. “How’s Joe? What’s he doing? What’s it like on set?” You answered all of their questions and more, but, little did they know, trouble was brewing. 

It started with little things. Joe would tell you that he would be home from set at a certain time, then text you minutes before, telling you that they were running late and not to wait up for him. Then, he’d lumber into the flat late at night, not even bothering to greet you some nights before he passed out asleep in bed. He would wake up early, for his call time was always fairly early in the morning, and he’d slip out of the flat without waking you to say goodbye. 

One of the bigger incidents was when he flopped into bed one night, leaving his clothes on the floor, and, when you went to gather them, found red-colored stains on the collar of his shirt. “What is this stain?” you asked him, running your thumb over the stain. 

“Why d’you care?” Joe mumbled, grabbing his pillow and shoving his tired face in it. 

“I need to know if I need to treat it before I wash it,” you told him, then, under your breath, added, “Since I do the washing up around here, apparently.”

“It’s, umm…” Joe started sleepily. He yawned, then said, “Makeup. They make me wear a lot of makeup.” 

“Are you sure?” you asked, and Joe sighed. 

“Yes, fuck,” he grumbled. “Let me sleep, love, I had a long day.” 

Red makeup. Why would he be wearing red makeup? You swiped your thumb across it, and it came back a little waxy. Lipstick. You knew that he was lying, but you dreaded a fight, so you kept it to yourself. Lipstick on Joe’s collar; it made your stomach turn. 

Another incident came on Joe’s birthday. He wasn’t filming that day, but he was still out all day. You were awaiting his arrival, tired and lonely and just wanting some time with your birthday boy, and you sighed when the door finally opened. “There you are,” you smiled, and you opened your arms for him. “I missed you.” 

“Missed you too,” Joe said, coming into your arms and kissing you gently. “Sorry, my mum wanted to take me out.” 

“No worries,” you said as alarms went off in your head. You had called Joe’s mum earlier in the day to try to get her recipe for Victoria sponge so that you could make it for dessert after dinner (you had succeeded, and a completed cake sat on the counter in the kitchen), and, in the conversation, it came up that Joe’s mum regretted not being in London for Joe’s birthday. “I’m in Liverpool for the week,” she told you. “I guess we can celebrate when I get back.” If he wasn’t with his mum, where was he?

Finally, the nail in the coffin came. On a cold March night, your skin still rippling with the feeling of Joe’s tongue, your boyfriend asleep next to you, he mumbled in his sleep. He did it every so often, mainly when he was stressed or nervous about something, but it was usually little things, things that you couldn’t discern. But this was discernible, and it made your stomach turn. “Amelia…” Joe mumbled, and he turned away from you in his sleep. 

You were awake all night. Amelia. Who the fuck was Amelia? The same girl who had left the red lipstick on his collar? The same girl he had spent his birthday with? You didn’t want to feed into delusions and jump to any sort of conclusions, but everything seemed so damning to you. You were scared and anxious and looking for any answers, and the girl’s name gave you an answer. Joe was cheating on you. 

By the time Joe’s alarm woke him up at 6am (you even doubted his call time now; was he leaving early to see her?), you were up and packed. You lived with Joe and Wes now full-time, and you sniffled as you tried to think through your options. You could move back in with your mum until you found accommodations, or you could shack up in a hotel somewhere, or move in with a friend, or... Anywhere but here. Joe stumbled out of the bedroom to find you on the couch, jiggling your leg nervously, biting your fingernails down to the quick, your bags by your feet. “Darling?” Joe mumbled, scratching his blondish curls. “Wha’s’this?” 

“I’m leaving,” you told him simply. 

“Is everything okay?” Joe asked with a start. “Has something happened?” 

“You know, I’ve loved you since the first moment I saw you,” you said, your eyes narrowing as you held down your tears. “When we were eighteen, our first day at LAMDA, and you came and sat next to me, I’ve loved you since that moment. And I only thought that you felt the same way.” 

Joe’s eyes nearly burst out of his skull behind his thin glasses. “I do!” he said quickly. “Love, what’re you talking about? Of course I love you!” 

“Then, have the decency to break up with me before you start dating another girl!” you hiccuped. “At least spare me the heartbreak of hearing you say her name in your sleep.” 

“What did I say?” Joe asked. “Darling, what name did I say?” 

“Does it matter?” you asked. “It’s not mine, and that’s what matters. The lipstick on your collar was the biggest tip off for me, and I-I let you explain it away! I should have left you the very moment I found that shit!” 

“Please calm down,” Joe begged you. “You can’t leave, you can’t, what am I supposed to do without you?” 

“You should have thought about that before you went and cheated on me,” you spat. “I hope Amelia makes you really happy, because you’re all hers now.” 

“Amelia?” Joe repeated. And he laughed. The bastard laughed at you. Anger ran hot in your chest, and you gnashed your teeth and grabbed the handle of your bags. “No, wait, darling, let me explain! Amelia isn’t— She’s my—“

“I don’t care who she is,” you told him. “I’m done being lied to and deceived. I’m just fucking done.” 

What you didn’t know was, as soon as you left, Joe fell to his knees and wept. His heart pounded, and he clutched his chest, trying to dig his poor heart out. He was still on the floor in the living room when Wes came home from Liam’s, his sobbing still as heavy as when it started, and, when Wes too fell to his knees and asked what was wrong, Joe sniffled. “She left me,” he said. “Just packed up her things and left.” 

What you didn’t know was that, the day you found the red makeup, Arthur had been beaten, and had reddish-purple bruises on his face, and some of the painted makeup had gotten on Joe’s collar. What you didn’t know was, when Joe spent his birthday out, he was at a jeweler’s, looking at engagement rings. What you didn’t know was that, at that moment, Joe’s heart was irreparably broken, and he clutched his childhood best friend as he sobbed. 

When you first got home to your mother that day and told her what happened, she sighed and held you as you cried, and let you curse Joe’s name over and over. “I thought he loved me,” you sobbed. “I thought he loved me!” 

Luckily for you, the end of term came while Joe was still filming, and he missed most of your shared classes. Word got around quickly that the "it" couple had broken up, and, while nobody asked you about it, you knew they were gossiping. But no matter. You had your own career to deal with, signing up for auditions and sending out self-tapes to anybody that was accepting. You got a role in a small teen sitcom on BBC 3, just a three-episode arc, and you were elated. Your first job, right out of school! You were proud of yourself, but the victory felt hollow; you had nobody to share it with.

You only saw Joe in person one other time, at your small graduation ceremony in the spring. He received special honors and was chosen to be class speaker, and you held back your tears as you listened to him talk about perseverance and hard work. “And, truly, I couldn’t have done it without someone special,” he said, and he locked eyes with you for just a moment, just long enough for your heart to soar, then he looked past you. “My mum.” You clapped with everyone else, and wiped away a tear.

He approached you after the ceremony, holding his diploma under his arm, and you shouldered your purse as he gave you a small hug, the most awkward show of affection in the world. Your hand nearly went to the nape of his neck, the way you knew he liked, but you stopped yourself. “Hey,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I’m still proud of you, you know.”

“I know,” Joe said. “I heard you got cast in something.” 

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Just, umm, some stupid sitcom. Three episode arc, you know how it is.”

“That’s still cool,” Joe said. “I just wanted to… Congratulate you, I guess.”

You nodded silently, brushing off tears again. “Wes told you to come speak to me, didn’t he?” you said softly. “You didn’t wanna come talk.” 

“You know me so well,” Joe said, with no hint of humor in his voice. “Be good, okay?” 

“You too.”

At Christmas, just as filming for your show ended, you were flipping channels on the telly, looking for something that wasn’t A Christmas Story on a loop. You thought back to this time last year, pulling crackers with your lover and unwrapping thoughtful presents, and your heart hurt just as you flipped to the BBC, and suddenly Joe was on your screen. No, not Joe; Arthur. Arthur Havisham, incensed about something. You leaned forward closer to the television to try to get a better look, and you watched as his face pulled up in that way it did when he was trying not to cry, and he said, “Didn’t you hear him? I have no home.” 

“Mum!” you called, and you clutched the throw pillow to your chest as your mother came from the kitchen. Your eyes stayed glued on the screen as it flipped to a different scene with different characters, and your mum asked just what was the matter to have you yelling halfway across the house, and you sniffled. “I hate him, but I’m proud of him.” 

“Who, love?” your mum asked. 

“Joseph,” you mumbled. “His show is on the telly.” 

“Oh,” your mother said softly. “Well, turn it off, then.” 

“No,” you said as he came back onscreen. He looked so handsome, his dishwater blond curls done just right, his eyes big and expressive, his lip trembling— you tried not to imagine what you would be doing if you hadn’t broken up. You probably would be sitting in his lap and kissing him silly every time he came onscreen, and he would be laughing and protesting even watching it in the first place. Wes would be at your side, maybe Liam too, and you would be one big happy family. But he had ruined that, ruined it with—

“Amelia Havisham.”

Your heart stopped. Amelia. The girl onscreen answered to that name, and you wanted to throw up. Amelia. Amelia was a character on the show. Amelia was Arthur’s sister. “Oh no,” you whispered. “What have I done?” 

You grabbed your phone and dialed Joe’s number, and you waited for him to pick up. Only, he never did. The call rang for ten rings, then sent you to his voicemail, and you cleared your throat. “Hi, Joe,” you said softly. “It’s me. Umm, I just wanted to let you know I’m watching Dickensian, and you… You did a really good job. Well done. And Amelia…” You weren’t sure exactly what to say, and you gently added, “I’m sorry. Call me when you get this; I just wanna talk.” You hoped that he understood what you meant.

In your heart, you knew that you had done Joe badly, not letting him explain his point of view when you broke up, but, getting confirmation that he in fact did not cheat on you only proved to you how truly shitty you had treated him. And now he wouldn’t answer his phone when you called. He didn’t have an Instagram that you could stalk, and you were certain that even Wes would avoid your calls, and your heart seized up. You ruined it. Not Joe, you. You had ruined the only good thing you ever had. You had surely broken his heart, and it made you sick to think how badly you had treated the only person who loved you totally unconditionally. 

Joe never called you back. You never saw him again— not in person, anyway. Every few years, you’d be watching television and come across him. A random role in Game of Thrones, a small part in a time-travel show, a not-so-small role in the BBC’s Les Miserables adaptation. Your heart never really healed, and every time you saw him only opened the wound a little more.

And then, one day at work, your world turned upside down. Literally.

-

taglist: @eddiethebloodiedhand, @zestychili, @tlclick73, @chickennug90, @etherealglimmer, @phyllosilicate-s, @cinnamoncunt, @stardancerluv, @birdysaturne, @joeqnz, @freakymunson, @winchester-angel, @wordscomehither, @icallhimjoey

[divineerdrick]

Homestuck: Beyond Canon Upd8 for March 23, 2024

As James promised, we've got a second post for this month. No news or anything to go along with it, so let's just jump straight in!

Jane is evidently not handling things well.

Ah, good! We've got a link to the previous conversation. This can be very helpful for dealing with timeline shenanigans in the middle of pesterlogs. I just hope they're not too worried about our ability to put together where we are in the story. I mean if we've stuck around this long . . .

Jane's paranoia is building, but she appears to have not noticed Jake is spying on her. Still she seems somewhat overconfident in her abilities. To be fair, she has been dodging and surviving assassination attempts since childhood.

Wait! Jane on the moon? I thought that wasn't canon! Well, if anything on Earth C past the credits are supposed to be canon at least. I wonder if that means we might return to some of the sprite shenanigans?

Oh wow! This is a tirade and a half! The worst part is a lot of it is true. We know Jake wasn't the best parent for Jade, and we know now about Joey and Jude. But still, I got the impression Jake was much more in Tavvy's life than Jane was. And seriously! Forcing a premature pregnancy with Life powers? The hell! Worst part is when it comes to Homestuck's worst guardians, I'm pretty sure that only barely breaks top 5.

I'm dying! Jake is doing a Gamzee impression and Dirk can't take it!

Well that's a sentence I just read.

Jegus, Tavvy is still very much definitely in the running for worst childhood though . . .

Of all the things to say . . . No! No Jane! You don't get to claim any LGBTQ+ Allyship!

Still, although the Candy timeline is pushing things to an extreme, this is a side of Jane I don't think ever got considered. Jane has been training all her life to be a public figure, to be an Empress really. And as much as I love them, a bunch of idiot teenagers created a civilization and then just let it build for 5,000 years. From the previous iteration of beyond Canon, it seems the Exiles were the true guides until the kids returned.

And Jane saw a group of adoring, worshipful people greet them and knew she needed to step up. It just sucks she couldn't bring herself to truly include the Trolls in that.

Yeah, I'm with Dirk on this one. Wow! Jane blamed Jake for Dirk's death. Just, wow . . . And here I thought Jake was the one who never truly understood their friends.

All and all this was a really painful conversation. I think this one might have been worse than the one between Jade, Rose, and Kanaya. Why do some of the worst conversations in this story take place between Jake and Jane. From reading this, I'm really getting the impression they've always been more codependent than actually in love.

Oh fuck! That really fucking sells it!

I'm at a loss for words. I don't know if this is going to actually stick, or what Jake will actually do when I press, "Page of Hope: Rise up." but that was one hell of a way to realize an epiphany.

Wait, no! That's it! Like I get the reference but really! We're just going to open the door and leave it there!

Oh who am I kidding! How can I be in this fandom and honestly complain about an ending to an upd8 like this. Yes, I want it to keep going! Yes, I wanted a flash video to start! But how many times has this story kept me waiting? Let's just hope we don't have too much longer.

[halfusek]

man. batdr archives. what

i hate them

sorry im gonna go full on hater mode here because oh my god? oh my god

i’ve got a sneaking suspicion that this came out now as damage control for the AI thing because 1. it wasn’t included in the game all along like BATIM’s archives were and 2. this tweet

like was it thrown together in such a rush that they forgot a whole ass character?

or it is a joke and was a planned action half a year after the game came out but eh who knows

either way this is not what i’m here to rant about (cuz im sure this is gonna turn to a rant)

it’s about bad writing, bad exposition and bad game design. buckle up!

i see what they mean with the smile being a challenge to create, you can see in countless animations for fansongs how different artists tackled that and for one i think they did that very well

however. why the clothes exactly? is it just a meta reason with no reasoning in-universe whatsoever?

and look i’m not a fan of the ink demon having a voice (though i respect the craft behind it, the voice actor is very talented, it’s just a personal preference) BUT if you made the ink demon talk you should by logical extension either make toon bendy talk as well or explain why the hell he’s talking? i can see it being distracting but there are characters that have squeaky annoying voices in games and they’re fine (and it’s not like toon bendy is around the player for a super long time)

i dunno what logic this whole thing operates on anymore but if joey commissioned the ink machine then it should be his and arch gate got all his shit after he passed away so idk what retrieve is supposed to mean here

but it could just be badly written sentences and the archive is full of those (once again making me think that the thing was done in a rush)

that’s fair i guess

yall did make him look like a generic demon tho

i mean... it could be worse? if the goal was to make him look out of place then it was achieved but idk if it’s actually a good thing

i do like the bit about Wilson influencing how things look under him being in control of the cycle (though they have a very silly definition about what the cycle is but more about that later)

dude. the beast bendy design was already bad in BATIM and they made it even worse in BATDR like what TToTT

its just an angry mountain of muscles, the batim design at least had that leg injury thing going on which made moving with front arms make more sense, this dude right here is just a big inky gorilla (and not in a good way)

playing as the final form in on itself isnt a bad idea, does sound quite fun, personally tho i did not enjoy the very ending on the game

i dunno it just felt weird and all the other characters randomly appearing and the lost ones attacking being so awkward and ink demon acting as if they could kill you... nah man i wasn’t feeling it

okay so lets get this straight

cycle = a series of events that repeat

breaking the cycle would mean doing something different and stopping the cycle from continuing (so what... wilson was doing actually)

saying that making it restart again is what breaking it means is just??? no?

“satisfying face reveal” welp. each to their own XD

i see their purpose theme and thats neat and all but man do i hate how henry in this game is just. there and how some stranger is the person helping him get out of his horrible fate like its sooooooo unsatisfying

yeah she got more personality ill give her that

but she’s not a beacon of hope. she’s a beacon of tearing away the satisfaction of defeating a villain that we as the player worked hard towards

and uh... isn’t getting thrown into a horrible dimension full of monsters that audrey isn’t familiar with and is supposed to be freaked out about a bad moment to introduce a familiar face? like from a writing perspective, because it happens nearly instantly as chapter one starts

shouldn’t audrey be unmotivated then and struggling to figure out the world on her own? the player should also be haunted at this world, like it’s a horror game bestie ! don’t make me comfortable

well glad to hear the confirmation on that batds is happening in pararel to batdr

but his involvement in the main story is honestly such a nothing burger

is he there just so you can put batdr on the “can you pet the dog” site?

oh ok so what you’re basically putting down here is that he’s a boring perfect extremely rich guy, wasn’t even a bad father, completely stripping wilson’s arc of depth, cool, was afraid there would be something of substance powering the backbone of the plot of this game

and saying that both joey and wilson are worse people because theyre cringefail at business XDDDDDDDDDDD

ok here is something that im glad they addressed because ive been wondering about it - how audrey forgot that joey was her dad and how did she end up working at arch gate then

i suppose it implies that there’s something we might still learn/theorize about it, like for example if it was the machine drawing her in or gent wanting to get the machine back and manipulating things into place from behind the scenes

i really wonder how you can enter in and out the ink realm unnaturally but good to mention why he looks like that if he’s supposed to be nathan’s son

you cant just say that a character was important to the story, its not gonna happen from words

how is she important exactly? she just talks and uh.. helps audrey make the drink that makes you fall asleep? man that section of the game was Weird

i do want to like her, she seems nice and there could be interesting things to her backstory but as for the plot she really didn’t do much, sorry, betty

if you wanna say that pushing the plot forward by giving audrey that drink and then alice appearing outta nowhere and kidnapping here is a good big contribution then idk what to tell you... its such a bad way to make the plot progress, it was so confusing because characters were behaving as in forced to do Things to Progress the Plot (especially Audrey drinking that thing at all like seriously girl?? and Alice appearing comically at the last sip like wooooooow are you for real)

ah. so they were attempting a redemption arc

[saying this he didn’t threw aside the large rock. he was right to be holding the large rock]

this sucks man! what did joey help correct exactly? created more ink people to suffer eternally? wow, dude, thanks

also lmao what learned from his mistakes, did you HEAR his dialogue at the end of batim?? (an audrey can be heard right after that scene as well so isnt his whole change of heart supposed to be happening around here + allison has already been added to the squad)

it’s just... it’s just such bullshit man

you can make us like joey as a character but don’t you fucking dare make us like him as a person

bad. just bad

(aaaaaand this is the part that made me realize i wish the archives just. weren’t added! wow! i’m even surprised with myself with how much I Don’t Like them)

WHAT flaws??? hello??? please give it a big thinking and tell me what flaws does Audrey have im shaking and crying

also is her “deep dark past” supposed to just be like bEINg JoEY DRewS DAUghtER OOOoooOOo? lmao. wow so dark wow so deep

i dont know why this story needed a fresh pair of eyes because the story is that audrey is joeys daughter and that wilson is nathan archs son and that bendy is bendy. wow so deep so dark and complicated!!!!!!!11!!111

also whats the point of fresh eyes if you welcome us with familiar faces?

also sorry to break this to you but its not hard to stand out from the kinda cast that is presented to us in this game. sorry i cant decide if i care more about audrey or random employee number 24 with a random problem that i have 0 reason or time to get attached to. i seriously cant decide

suuuure we were so muddled xD oh you got us so good you sneaky little cheeky little quirky little

cant fucking believe we almost had a proper nathan arch jr and a secret one eyed villain that there was so much hype about and theories that they obviously tried to deliever here

its speculative but. knowing that they take inspiration from fan theories - they admitted to it and ex employees said so, i think we would have to be in some serious denial to think that @lucky-dreamfisher​‘s one-eyed bendy theory wasn’t meant to be represented here with wilson’s character

ALSO THIS NARRATIVE. THIS NARRATIVE HAS ZERO- NO, NEGATIVE AMOUNT OF COMPLEXITY

GOD

this story makes so much LESS sense based on what you said! aaaaaaaa we were so close to greatness

what is so wrong with not resetting the cycle then?

not that im a fan of how wilson was approaching things, he very clearly wanted to make himself the ruler of this realm and have power over everyone but sounds like that sure beats living under ink demons reign?

but also idk if this is entirely true like in batim chapter 5 we can see that lost ones were capable of making that lost harbour and sammy is later mentioned to have mastered a special ability too so??

i wish we learned more about the pit because it sounds quite interesting and we were working hard towards getting there and finally didnt get to see it at all (a shame! very unrewarding to the player)

im not gonna comment on reverting here cuz its a serious mental thing im not knowledgable about

i haaaate this

you... this is not how exposition is done!

show don’t tell?? how about SHOW don’t TELL??

what in the goddamn. you can’t just pull that outta your ass and say yep. this is how it is. bro. dude.

im referring here to the ink machine bit, the previous sentences can actually be seen in the story

but the design does not reflect what is written here

and they are doing so much of that in these archives, this telling of the story in a place that is not meant for telling of the story, you do that IN the STORY. rarghrgrh

surprise i found another nice thing: confirmation on that alice was the one who mutilated the butcher gang, cuz i dont think that was ever confirmed before but at least you can find implications of that in the game so its fine to outright confirm that here, good job about that

i dont know what theyre on about carley, she doesnt really look like that to me and ive looked at her model in the archives, in the files and at peoples renders of her and i just dont see it

but i guess it might mean it was like a suit that someone got stuck in- FNAF?!>!!>!?

no way. no fucking way

we got robbed what ToT

he was removed in favour of WHAT???? AMOK????

dude there ill be real. there’s barely anything that is worth keeping there instead of having him play a bigger role

and im not even that big on sammys character! hes one of my least liked characters personally even! but at least there is something more to him and just man after 5 years you could have given him more than just a dumb wilhelm scream joke, that almost feels like a spat in the face lmao

thanks for again confirming something though with that flow thing, as we noticed sammy uses gaps in the wall in batim chapter 2 to travel around the place

why not have him teach audrey the flow ability? imagine how could that would have been

im just baffled this exist but sammy apparently had to be cut out

lol

lmao

moving on

my brother in christ why are you making it a mystery if she will appear, she literally appeared in every game so far with quite major roles

also... what layers? sure in batim with her story (susie’s story) there sure been some layers, susie’s story in batim is probably aside from joey’s story the deepest character arc they got

but alice in batdr? she’s there to play a stupid game she set herself up to lose, get mad at that (eh?) shoot you and die

what layers, really

gender

but also idk i found the fight annoying and random, you could throw it out and not much of value would be lost, put sammy back in

YOU MADE HIM NOTHING

YOU TOOK A PERFECTLY FINE ENEMY AND GAVE IT ANXIETY THATS WHAT YOU DID /j /ref

idk if id describe the ink demon as putting the player on edge because he doesnt actually roam the place

you see a grey overlay on your screen and you need to hide or you die... which gets tiring fast and annoying

you totally could still have lurker (even if just restricted to some areas) as a free roaming monster

and the unlikely ally thing is just so bland like yeah he’s there, we know nothing about him aside from that he eats hearts, incredibly charming fella 

not thrilled by his design either but that issue i already had with the first trailer but i guess they just sticked with that

bendy devs not use mental illnesses as derogatory terms challenge

i like the crab boy design, he’s sillay

bro forgot a texture tho

so yeah not. happy with the archives

sorry if im like overly negative but ive honestly tried to give this sequel (because despite what they were saying it IS undoubtedly a sequel) my best assumptions and it turns out its nearly all the worst assumptions

its annoying, im annoyed

they should hire a writer to help them get this mess together, maybe get adrienne in on it, i dunno, because clearly if they need to be specific and not leaving things open like in batim, then they arent managing very well

they even fucking killed harold

[upontherisers]

night has always pushed up day

a/n: i'm still typing away on my WIP but since i was so inactive this week, i thought i'd share a snippet of an AU i've lived with for a few years but haven't posted from before. title from mumford & sons' 'after the storm'. Lady of the Lighthouse — loosely inspired by Bridges of Madison County (the musical) — is set in a small Wisconsin town post-Vietnam and follows lighthouse keeper Lillian Sikes after she saves a man, photojournalist Ronald Spiers, from drowning in Lake Superior.

“I want to tell a story,” Ron says as Lil sets three mugs on the table, the kitchen door creaking shut behind her.

“Everyone has stories,” Georgie replies. “It’s about finding the right ones to tell at the right time to tell them.”

Lil pulls out the empty chair and sits with a sip of her drink, looking back and forth between the debating writers. Half of this is going above her head, but she wanted to make sure Georgie isn’t going to press Ron for national security secrets while he can’t run away.

Ron raises a skeptical eyebrow and Georgie shrugs. “Everyone has a story. Not all of them are interesting, some are unbelievable, and they’re all important. Vee Albert’s as boring as they come but she’s one of the only locals and she knows this place better than anyone. Jeannie Carmichael won’t say a word about her life before she turned nineteen. Frankie Wilson has a husband and a fiance. Joe Liebgott drove across the country ‘til his car broke down right on Main and Madison, and he hasn’t left since.”

“And now you’re sleeping with him,” Ron says over the rising steam of his drink.

Lil stares out the window before Georgie can look at her, her cheeks flushing with shame. She shouldn’t have told Ron about that. It’s speculation — "mere conjecture," as Joey says. Lil, of all people, knows how much it can hurt to have the whole island talking about you behind your back, even when they’re only looking out for you.

“Allegedly,” snarks Georgie. “Joe is a friend.”

Lil keeps her gaze firmly affixed on the choppy green waves crashing ashore outside.

It’s silent for a moment before Ron speaks. “What’s your story? How does a Harvard girl end up here?”

Lil sneaks a glance at Georgie who’s picking at a chip in her mug with a distant stare before catching her eyes with a painful, yearning smile. 

“It’s a sad one.”

“I can do sad,” Ron wheezes, a cough scraping its way out of his throat. She needs to take his temperature again soon. 

Georgie studies Ron for a moment, taking in the rumpled man with care. He still looks like hell but sits straight and easy, his stare intense but with no malice in it. Lil hopes that his appearance conveys what she had struggled to tell her friend, that Ron wasn’t here to exploit them. Georgie’s on the edge about another writer encroaching on her turf, on her stories and her friends, but there’s nothing to worry about. He means well.

Shaking her bangs off her face, Georgie looks into the dim bulb of the pendant light overhead and sighs, full and weighty. “My husband died,” she declares.

It stops Lil’s heart every time she hears it.

“You were married?” Ron leans forward, wincing in the blanket around his shoulders.

“He was a college friend. We met in the English lit department.”

“What was his name?”

“David.”

David. Dear, dear David. The island’s idealist academic and very own philosopher. A bundle of contradictions — volunteered for the Army before he could get drafted yet avoided any work; prone to bouts of passion but slow to action; not a fighter but often found himself in the middle of pedantic arguments. He had no bedside manner, little tact, and was a bookworm to the point of elitism. But with all of that, he was a true friend. He was fascinated with the lighthouse, always poking around when he came over and cheerfully filling in for Lil if she was unable to work. He was curious about the tiny world he’d found and eager to discover all of the differences between his cushioned East Coast upbringing and the tactile, manual life of the island.

He had dreams. He wanted to bring Murray Eagle Island into the back half of the century and he inspired people — or nagged them — into making change. He wrote with fervor and dedication for the few hundreds on their little island instead of heading to New York and getting on the front page of the Times. He met with fellow veterans when they moved into the area and chronicled their stories, as much as they’d tell him. Most of all, he loved his wife. 

He loved his wife. As much as writing drove him, Georgie drove him more. He leaned on her unabashedly, valued her advice and input, promoted her work over his own, and made it obvious to the lady tourists that wandered into the Editor office during the summer that he was proudly married. They were a good match; he mediated when she pushed too far, balanced some of her more ostentatious ideas — she helped him see beyond technical precision and philosophy. He was the only person who could get her to be honest with herself when her stubbornness got in the way of practicality. 

Lil had watched others around the island in those first years — Don and Dot, George and Mattie — couples who seem to have managed to make the island work for them, and compared their lives to the rapidly cooling affection between her and Mario. But no one showed her what marriage, love even, could be quite like the Websters.

“Can I ask what happened?”

Georgie’s shoulders sinking with the burden of the question. “We don’t know. He went out on the lake for some fishing… and never came back.”

Lil remembers the call from Luz like it was yesterday. The radio in the service room crackled to life while she was doing her last weather reading of the night. 

“Heads up, Lil,” Luz said. “Webster’s not back from fishing. Georgie said he went out at three — hasn’t heard from him since. Keep an eye out, please.”

Normally, a late return wouldn’t be cause for concern. People ran into minor spots of trouble all the time. Bill and Joe convinced themselves they would build and sail their own boat with no prior experience and ended up having to be fished out of the lake by Skip and Alex three hours later. Small dinghies and kayaks got overturned and swept into the lake every other week. Most of the local population were strong swimmers after years on the shore. David would be fine.

But, as Lil looked out into a night so black that she couldn’t tell sea from sky, rain bashing against the window and waves roaring into the rocks and jumping up toward the lightning overhead, her stomach flipped. A freak storm at this time of year was unpredictable at best.

She stayed in the watch room, not even risking a run to the kitchen for coffee, until the sun rose and the storm eased to a gray drizzle. There had been no sign of David during the night and the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach was only growing deeper, but she wouldn’t let herself say ‘missing’ yet. He would turn up, she was sure of it. David was a smart man; he was a strong swimmer and mariner. He had probably just washed up farther down the coast and would contact them as soon as he found a town.

Lil, Luz, Skip, Alex, Don, and Dot made up the entirety of Murray Eagle’s volunteer Coast Guard, so she and George pulled every string, every bit of curried favor, and every piece of blackmail they could with NOAA and the Merchant Marines. She was out with every patrol everyday, leaving Joey to complete her duties at the lighthouse, and they searched. Ten miles of coast in either direction, so far out into the lake that their boats only had enough fuel for the return journey. The Coast Guard officially withdrew their resources after two weeks and David was added to a Missing Person’s list for Lake Michigan. 

The entire time, Lil watched the light in Georgie’s eyes get dimmer and dimmer as they started to face the reality that David wasn’t coming home again.

Things returned to normal a month later. The local police told them that it was likely they were looking for a body at that point and people had lives to get back to, jobs and obligations that could no longer justifiably be ignored. They’d reached out to every town they could find along the coast, even into Canada. If he turned up, they would be notified.

David’s broken boat washed up against the lighthouse a month and a day after he went missing with no sign of its one-man captain and crew. Lil slept fitfully and dreamt of cries for help above the calamity of a storm.

Later that night, after Georgie left and dinner had come and gone, Ron speaks up while Lil washes dishes in the sink.

“You still feel guilty, don’t you?”

A plate clatters against wet metal, and she turns over her shoulder to look at him. Her mother’s blanket wrapped around his shoulders as he sits at the table, looking swallowed in the fabric despite his size. His lashes cast long, curving shadows against his cheeks and stubble has filled out his face since he came ashore clean shaven, giving him a rugged, sea-fairing look. He’s horribly disheveled, the cut on his brow isn’t healing, and he’s running a fever but he’s alive. Lil can see David sitting where Ron is, battered by a battle against the waves but alive, speaking, telling her all about the lake and the night and what he thinks of the weather, ready to go home to his wife.

Tears bite at the corners of Lil’s eyes and she turns around to scrub furiously at a spotless bowl.

“You were talking about him when you said you don’t let people drown, right?”

“Seems like you already know the answer,” she clips, trying to push down the bubble in her throat.

“Lil,” Ron sighs. “There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

You don’t know that, she thinks. She’d turned that night over and over in her mind. What if she missed something? What if she blinked in the dark of the watch room and missed a flash of yellow jacket? What if she turned her head and scanned over a hand reaching out of the water? What if it was her fault that David wasn’t back at his house right now, reading with Georgie or debating Chaucer and Fitzgerald?

George’s words from that first morning come back to her, when Ron slept in her bed and they split a smoke on the front steps as she sniffed and shivered with chill. You’re not invincible, Lil.

She couldn’t rationalize it then and she can’t rationalize it now, but she didn’t have a choice. No one understands why she jumped in, no one believes her. I’m alive, she wanted to say. Don’t you get it? I’m alive. I’m alive so that means I have to try. 

Perhaps it’s her loneliness. Perhaps she’s so desperate for someone that she’s willing to die for the chance, for the suggestion that a life she saves means being known, even for a day, even for an hour. Perhaps it’s the ungrateful woman her mother sees in her and the unruly, impractical dreamer her father wants to wash out of her. But she can’t keep sitting in her tower and let the world happen around her; she has to be a part of it despite her every attempt ending all wrong.

Ron won’t let it go. Teeth gritted with effort, he rises and moves toward her and suddenly she feels both cornered and safe, like a lifelong wish is being held out to her. “You would’ve died had you gone out there, you know that, right? You nearly killed us both trying to get me out of the water!”

“But you’re out, aren’t you?” she snaps, whipping around. You’re out and you’re alive. Doesn’t everyone want to be alive?

Ron looks at her with all the pity in the world, not rising to her anger. Lil bursts into tears as he pulls her into him. 

[ichorai]

blueberries ; two.

pairing ; joey tribbiani x gn!reader chapter synopsis ; the one with hockey pucks, double dates, and blackouts. wc ; 5.8k warnings / includes ; talks of sex/suggestive content, mild cursing, joey being an idiot

series masterlist. main masterlist.

The brightness of the hospital’s buzzing white lights made your head pound, and you quickened your pace until you were jogging down the hall to the waiting room. There, you saw Ross, Joey, and Chandler. The former two were wearing a variety of Hockey merch, and Ross was wearing his regular attire, though accompanied with a slightly crooked nose and a busted lip.

“Oh, my God, Ross!” you exclaimed, rushing to the trio. You gave Ross a quick hug, before pulling away to inspect the damage up close. “What happened? Are you okay? Sorry, I just got your voicemail when I got back from work and I came here as soon as I could.”

“Oh, it’s okay. I’m feeling a bit better now—or that might just be because of nerve damage. I don’t know,” Ross simpered, cradling a hockey puck in his hands. “This hit me in the face at the game.”

“Man, that must’ve hurt. You sure you’re okay? Where’s Monica and the girls?”

Ross lifted his shoulder in a shrug. “They were having a slumber party and I didn’t want to bother them. I knew you wouldn’t be doing anything important tonight, so I left you a message instead.”

A mild scowl danced over your features. “Gee, thanks, Ross. I mean, you’re right, but you didn’t have to say it.” You swung your gaze to Chandler and Joey, who looked just as tired as Ross was, if not more so. “What happened to you guys?”

“Ross wouldn’t stop talking about his… first time consummating with Carol,” Chandler groaned, pulling at the skin of his face in frustration. “Yes, the moon, the glow, the magical feeling of an orgasm, we get it! Could I get some painkillers over here, please?”

Joey nodded his agreement. “He’s right, enough already! What’s the big deal about today, anyway? So you slept with her for the first time today—you slept with her for seven whole years after that!”

Curious, you sank down into a chair beside Ross, regarding him with narrowed eyes. 

“It’s just… a little more complicated than that.”

“Well, what is it?” asked Chandler. “That she left you? That she likes women? That she left you for another woman that likes women?”

Ross shot his friend a half-hearted glare. “A little louder, I think there’s a man on the twelfth floor in a coma who didn’t quite hear you!” Swallowing slightly, he sighed out, “My first time with Carol was… It was…”

You placed a comforting hand on his knee. “It was your first time ever?” you asked sympathetically.

Pursing his lips to the side, Ross nodded. 

Chandler and Joey appeared shocked. “Oh,” they both murmured at the same time. 

“So, in your entire life, there’s only been one—?” Chandler began, almost timidly.

“Man, hockey was a big mistake,” piped Joey. “There’s a whole bunch of other things we could’ve done tonight!”

Before you could reply with a scathing remark, a doctor called out Ross’ name, and he got up and quickly scampered away, most likely embarrassed to no end.

You gave Joey’s shoulder a shove once he was completely out of sight. “Can you at least be a little empathetic for him? No wonder he was being extra mopey today—he must feel awful about it.”

“I just can’t believe he’s only been with Carol,” Joey said, still stunned, and feeling a bit guilty.

“I think it’s great,” said Chandler. “It’s sweet. It’s romantic.”

You cocked your head at him incredulously. “Really?”

“God, no, he’s a total freak!”

“Oh, piss off, Chandler. What does it matter if he’s only been with one person? Body count doesn’t matter at all, you know,” you hissed, still feeling particularly sensitive about the whole ordeal with the waitress and how she had used you as a homewrecker. 

Joey rubbed your shoulder in a placating manner, and you placed your hand on top of his with a reassuring smile. 

Chandler watched the interaction, narrowing his eyes. “What’s with you two lately?”

“What?” the two of you both said at once. His hand fell away from yours.

“I don’t know, you guys just both seem off. Did something happen? Did you sleep together or something?”

“No!” you said, a bit too quickly, wrinkling your nose. Technically you did sleep with him, just not in the way Chandler was insinuating. “No, Joey just helped me out with some personal things. It’s no big deal.”

Before Chandler could ask more about it, Ross walked back out to the waiting room, and you bolted out of the chair, quickly grabbing Ross’ arm and leading him out of the hospital. 

The next morning, you strode into the cafe with droopy eyes, yawning behind a fist, plopping down on the sofa between Phoebe and Chandler. The group was discussing… bras? Honestly, you were too tired to comprehend what they were talking about, so you just nodded along and stole sips from Phoebe’s mug of coffee.

“You know what actually blows my mind?” said Joey. “Women can see breasts anytime they want!”

“Jo, honey, men have breasts, too,” you put forth, a bit more awake now that you’ve had some coffee. “Just because they’re flat doesn’t mean they’re not there.”

He sighed dreamily. “I wish I had ‘em. Just look down, and there they are! How any of you get work done is beyond me.”

“You know what I wanna know? How guys can say such mean things and not even care,” said Phoebe, playing with the silver rings on her fingers. 

The group fell into silence, before Ross snapped his fingers. “Multiple orgasms!”

By now, you’d completely lost track of where the conversation had gone, so you fished out a book from your bag and began reading, shifting so that Phoebe could lean against you as you read. 

“Chandler, nobody likes breaking up with someone,” reasoned Monica. 

“What?” You put your book down. “You’re breaking up with Janice?”

“Yeah,” he said, in a rather off-putting manner. “Didn’t know I had to tell you everything since you don’t bother with telling the rest of us about yourself.”

You blinked, sitting upright so quickly that Phoebe’s head slipped from your shoulder and she nearly face-planted into the couch. 

“What’s he talking about, Y/N?” asked Ross, looking worried. 

Your eyes shifted to briefly meet Joey’s concerned ones, but you averted your gaze to the ground shamefully.

“Look, I’m sorry if I made you feel left out in any way, Chandler. I’m just not really comfortable telling the entire group right now. Is that okay?”

“Oh, honey, it’s okay,” said Phoebe from beside you, rubbing your knee in reassurance. “Take all the time you need.”

A bit dejected, Chandler nodded his head. “Yeah, I get that. Sorry if I was being too pushy. I just wanna make sure you’re okay, that’s all.”

A hint of a smile tugged the corner of your lips upward. “I’m okay, Chandler. I promise. But what’s this about Janice?”

He sighed, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “It’s just so hard to break up with her! I mean, I’m sitting there, and she’s got no idea what’s happening… then there’s that awkward moment after I’ve handed her the note. Blurgh!” He shivered at the thought of it. 

“Why do you have to break up with her?” Joey postulated. “Just stop calling. Simple.”

It was then that a beautiful blonde woman in a form-fitting red dress strode into the cafe, heels clacking loudly against the wooden floors. You blinked—she looked so familiar—

“Hi, Joey,” she said flippantly as she passed by the couches, before taking a seat by the island. 

Once she was far enough not to be within earshot, Joey’s eyes widened and he whisper-yelled, “Holy shit, Angela.”

Right, Angela.

“Wow,” said Monica, craning her neck to try and get a good look at her. “Being dumped by you obviously agrees with her.”

“Are you gonna go over there?” Phoebe asked. 

“No!” said Joey. He looked back to her by the island. “Yes—no! Okay, but not yet. I don’t wanna seem too eager.”

You frowned when he started counting down the seconds under his breath. Not even five seconds later, he was already on his feet, off to speak to Angela. 

Rolling your eyes, you opened up your book back up again and began reading.

By the counter, Joey was perched on the seat beside Angela, inches away from her. 

“Forget it, Joey, I’m with Bob now!” said the blonde. 

“Bob? Who the hell’s Bob?”

“Well, Bob is great. He’s smart, sophisticated, and he’s got a real job! You, on the other hand, you go on three auditions a month and call yourself an actor! But Bob—”

Joey huffed, leaning closer to her. Her perfume was a bit too strong, and he could feel his eyes welling up from the sting, but he blinked the tears away. “Come on, Angela. We were great together. And not just at the fun stuff, but like, talking too!”

“Sorry, Joey. You said you wanted to be friends, and I respected that. And I could tell you had feelings for someone else while we were dating. Your heart just wasn’t in it!” Suddenly, she grabbed her purse, eager to get away from her ex as quickly as she could.

“Alright—so why don’t the four of us go out and have dinner tonight? Like a double date, or something,” Joey said, immediately regretting the words as soon as they came out of his mouth. Who the hell was going to be the fourth person? 

It seemed the same exact thing was going through Angela’s head, because she stopped in her tracks, turning back to Joey with quirked brows. “What ‘four of us’?”

“You and Bob, and me and my… uh, partner…” He glanced back to the sofa, where you were curled up to the side, nose buried in your book as you pretended like you were listening to Phoebe recounting how she once met an elf beneath a bridge. “My partner, Y/N. Yeah.”

—

Joey followed you around your kitchen as you made yourself lunch, looking ready to drop down to his knees and beg. Honestly, you weren’t even listening to what he was asking, but you thought it was funny how desperate he was.

“I’m telling you, this guy is perfect for you!”

You cocked a brow, flipping over the egg you were frying, before moving to grab spices. He was in the way of the cabinets, and refused to budge, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Ugh, Joey, I’m done going on double dates with you! Especially not after your dumb cousin who thought it was attractive to burp the alphabet right before we ate.” With a derisive huff, you placed your hands on his shoulders and firmly moved him to the side so you could grab the spices for your lunch. “Why don’t you ask Monica or something? I know she’s still looking for new men to sink her teeth into.”

“Well… I kinda sorta told Angela that you’d be comin’ already.”

You threw your hands up in the air. “Now why on earth would you do that?”

“Come on!” Joey pleaded, clasping his hands together. “This guy’s great, I promise. His name’s Bob, and he’s Angela’s… brother. He’s smart, sophisticated, and he has a real job! Unlike me, goin’ on three auditions a month and calling myself an actor. Please! I’m asking for a favor, here. I’m thinking if I do this for her brother, then Angela might come back to me.”

Biting down on your bottom lip, you turned to fully face him, surprised to see him so close to you. “What’s going on here, Joey? Before you saw Angela today you probably haven’t even thought about her since you dumped the poor girl. You sure you’re not jumping into something you really shouldn’t?”

Joey shook his head firmly. “Seeing her again made me realize that I made a huge mistake. I never should’ve broken up with her. Will you help me? Please?”

A moment of silence stretched thin between the two of you. 

You blew out a long sigh. “You owe me one.”

“I’ll owe you a million.”

God, he was giving you that look. The one where his eyebrows would divot and his eyes went all wide and pleading and his lips would pout ever so slightly. You frowned. 

“Fine.”

Joey enveloped you into a crushing hug, pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek while exclaiming his thanks. You groaned in mock-disgust, wiping away the kiss and slapping his chest so he’d let go of you. 

When you turned back to the stove, your egg had already burned.

That night, Joey had showed up to your apartment about five minutes before the double date in a casual grey suit, fiddling with a tie hanging loosely around his neck. “Help me with this?” he asked as soon as you had opened the door, walking in to stand in front of the nearest mirror. 

Rolling your eyes to the ceiling, you grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him to you, knotting the silky fabric neatly before patting his chest with satisfaction. 

“You clean up nice,” he told you sincerely, gaze flicking up and down your form. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen you in something that wasn’t jeans.”

You glared at him. “Hey, at least I’m not the one that still doesn’t know how to tie a tie.”

Grinning, Joey pecked your cheek once again. “Thanks again for doin’ this. You’re really gonna like this guy, I promise.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, hot shot. Let’s just go.”

“Is that new perfume you’re wearing?” he asked as the two of you stepped out. He leaned down to sniff you while you were locking the door, and you swatted him away with a laugh. “I like it. Smells like blueberries.”

“Thanks,” you told him with a cheeky smile. “I got it at the dollar store for three bucks.”

He laughed, before ushering you along, his hand hovering over your lower back.

The two of you left your apartment at a relatively slow pace considering that you were already a little late to the date. Joey hailed a cab, and you were on your way to the fancy restaurant that Angela had picked.

Oh, man, he was hot. At least Joey wasn’t wrong about you liking this guy. Though, you did find it a bit weird how Angela was batting her eyelashes at her brother in a strangely seductive manner and kept pressing her breasts up against his arm. You weren’t one to judge, though, so you kept your mouth shut and smiled politely. 

“So, uh, where did you guys grow up?” You wanted to gag. You absolutely abhorred small talk. 

“Brooklyn Heights,” said Angela just as Bob replied with, “Cleveland.”

You were suddenly interested, taking a sip from your glass. “Oh, wow. I know what that’s like—a separated family is tough,” you said. 

The two across from you looked at you strangely, as if you’d grown horns out of your head. Angela looked like she wanted to say something, but Joey cleared his throat before she could, steering the conversation away to the food they were eating. 

Weird. 

Now that you thought about it, Bob had barely even looked your way since you came. You weren’t sure if you should’ve been offended or if something else was going on that Joey wasn’t telling you.

A while later, you excused yourself to go to the bathroom, and Angela was quick to stand up as well, linking arms with you with a sweet smile and leading you away. 

“So… Bob, huh?” you said once the two of you were in the bathroom. “He seems like a great guy.”

“He is, isn’t he?” Angela said almost breathlessly, pulling out a tube of lipgloss from her purse and began touching up on her makeup. 

“It’s nice to meet a guy who’s smart and funny and has an emotional age beyond eight!” you said, mirroring her by fixing up your makeup as well. 

The blonde turned to you with a bashful grin. “You wanna know something else? He’s unbelievable in bed!”

You blinked. 

God damn it, Joey.

Either this was a sick, twisted case of incest between siblings, or… or Joey lied to you. 

You weren’t entirely sure which you preferred it to be.

“Oh, that’s…” Your words trailed off and you forced a wide, unnatural smile. “I’m gonna go talk to Joey for a second, alright?”

You rushed out of the bathroom so quickly that you didn’t catch her confused expression on the way out. Storming back up to the table, you grabbed Joey’s arm and shot Bob a sickly sweet grin. 

“Sorry, I’m just going to steal him for a minute. Urgent matters!” you called over your shoulder as you tugged a frazzled Joey along. “You lied to me, Jo. You told me Bob was Angela’s brother!”

Considering he was an actor, Joey was a terrible liar. “They are—he is!”

You crossed your arms, scowling at him. 

“Alright, fine,” he relented. “Look, I’m not proud of this, okay?”

“Fuck,” you cursed under your breath. “Listen, Jo, if you had just told me the truth, I still would’ve come with you, you know. Not only did you use me, but you just had to lie to me, too. Did you really think I was stupid enough not to notice? She’s got her goddamn tongue in his ear, for crying out loud!” You gestured emphatically to the couple, who were practically climbing on top of each other at this point. You made a noise of disgust, before rummaging in your bag for your wallet and shoving a twenty dollar bill into his chest. 

“Here’s some money for the food. I’m leaving.”

“No, wait, come on, Y/N—” His hand wrapped around your wrist just as you began walking to the restaurant’s exit. 

Freezing in your tracks, you didn’t bother shaking him away, nor did you wait to hear him out. 

“Please, let me go, Joey,” you whispered in a fragile tone. “I just want to go home.”

Reluctant, Joey let you go. 

“Y/N, I’m sorry—”

You didn’t spare him a glance as you just about bolted out of the restaurant, a film of tears welling over your eyes.

The next day, you trotted down to Central Perk, greeting Ross and Phoebe on the couches, and ordered a drink to-go. 

“Hey, guys,” you said as you dropped into a seat across from them. 

The pair waved at you. Phoebe’s eyes widened. “Oh, how’d the double date go? Joey didn’t say anything about it when we were all here yesterday. In fact, he was kind of looking off… oh, no, did something bad happen? I knew I sensed bad energy yesterday!”

You pursed your lips to the side. “Yeah, it didn’t really go that well. Joey told me the guy I was supposed to be on a blind date with was Angela’s brother, but in reality, he was her boyfriend, and he was just using me to get his ex back.”

“He what?” Ross practically screeched. “I’m gonna kill him. I’m—”

As if on cue, Joey and Chandler sauntered into the cafe, loudly discussing the difference between jelly and jam. 

When Joey’s eyes landed on you, he visibly brightened, rushing over to the couches. 

“Y/N, I—”

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” Ross bit out, abruptly getting up to stand between you and Joey. “How could you use Y/N like they were just one of your side pieces? They’re one of your best friends, Joey. They’re one of my best friends—not just some person you can throw away after a date.”

Chandler doubled in shock. “Did I just walk into a Spanish soap opera? What’s going on?”

“That was really shitty of you, Joey,” Phoebe added scathingly. 

“I know,” Joey said, carding a hand through his hair. “Please, can I just talk to you, Y/N? Alone?”

Before Ross or Phoebe could intervene again, you nodded, more out of pity than anything. After storming out of the restaurant yesterday, you had quite a bit of time to cool down. Sure, you were still angry at him, but definitely not as much as last night.

“I’m sorry,” he said when the two of you had moved to a more secluded part of the cafe. “I’m so sorry—I didn’t know what I was thinkin’. I just got so hellbent on getting Angela back that I completely became a total jerk about it. I don’t even really like her all that much, it just rubbed me the wrong way when I found out that she was doing so much better without me. I’m sorry for dragging you into it—and lying to you. You didn’t deserve any of that. I care about you a lot, and I would never want to hurt you.”

A part of you didn’t want to forgive him. You wanted to smack his stupidly handsome, pleading face and tell him to kiss your ass. 

But you couldn’t. 

“Oh, Jo,” you sighed, burying your face into your palms. “You can’t just… you can’t do that ever again. I trust you a lot, Joey. Yesterday really made me wonder if I was an idiot for giving you that trust. I don’t know if this makes me an even bigger idiot, but I still trust you.”

“I’m really sorry,” he parroted, spreading his arms out. “I’ll buy you a million movie tickets, or I’ll never steal from your fridge ever again, or I’ll come with you to those boring art museums you like so much, just—please don’t be mad at me anymore.”

You really couldn’t resist, looping your own arms over his waist, cheek resting against his shoulder. “Ugh, just shut up. I’m still really mad at you, but… I forgive you. Promise never to lie to me like that ever again.”

“I promise,” he said, pulling away to make sure you were looking him straight in the eye.

“Okay,” you huffed, a grin tugging at the corner of your lips. “God, stop being so serious, Joey. I swear, you look like you’re about to cry.”

The man across from you sniffled a little. “Well, sorry if the thought of losing one of my best friends makes me just a little sad!”

You roped him into another warm hug, patting his back comfortingly.

When the two of you parted, both wearing reflective beams, you began walking back to the couches with his hand laced in yours. The group was now pretending as if they hadn’t been listening to your entire conversation—Ross scrambled to pick up a magazine and was reading it upside down, Chandler began counting on his fingers, and Phoebe turned to her side and started talking to thin air. 

You stifled a laugh, sinking into the couch. “You guys can stop pretending like you weren’t eavesdropping now.”

“Oh, thank God,” exclaimed Chandler. “I was getting really tired of counting how many fingers I had.”

It was around a week after your little spat with Joey, the two of you were right back to your normal, light-hearted relationship. You sat beside him on Monica’s couch, having just lit up a bunch of candles to luminate the dark apartment. The entire city was in a blackout, and you weren’t too keen on getting back to your apartment in the pitch darkness.

The entire group was there, as well, save for Chandler, who was apparently stuck in an ATM vestibule with Jill Goodacre. You would’ve been worried for him, but he sounded perfectly excited to be in such a confined space with a beautiful woman, so you weren’t too concerned.

“Okay, okay,” said Monica, snapping you out of your reverie. “Senior year of college, on a pool table.”

Both you and Joey oohed with teasing smiles as Rachel raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Pool table? That must’ve been uncomfortable!”

“My weirdest place would have to be… the women’s room on the second floor of the New York City Public Library.” Joey crossed his arms and grinned, looking mighty proud of himself.

“Really? What were you doing in a library?” you scoffed. Joey pinched your thigh in response and you slapped his hand away with a laugh. “What about you, Pheebs?”

“Milwaukee,” the blonde responded, smiling. 

The rest of you bobbed your heads awkwardly, before Ross piped up, “Mine would be Disneyland, 1989. It’s a small world after all.”

The group whooped raunchily. “My God, Ross!”

“Yeah, the ride broke down, so Carol and I went behind a couple of those mechanical children.”

You grimaced. “Ugh, too much information, Ross. Did you get in trouble?”

There was a mischievous gleam in his eye as he responded, “There’s a reason why I’m not allowed in the Magic Kingdom anymore.”

You dissolved into laughter, before straightening yourself. “I’d say my craziest would be… on a piano after a concert. Let’s just say—he was really good with his fingers.”

With a gasp, Rachel swatted your arm in a giddy fashion. “Who was it, who was it?”

“Sorry, I don’t kiss and tell,” you said, miming locking your lips shut and throwing the key away. 

Joey rolled his eyes. “I think you were doing a lot more than just kissing.”

The rest of the group snickered, and you shoved him lightly. “What about you, Rachel?”

The brunette scratched her neck sheepishly. “What? I already went.”

“No, you didn’t,” said Monica. “Come on, Rach, tell us!”

Sighing begrudgingly, Rachel puckered her lips to the side in thought. “Alright, uh, the weirdest place would have to be… the foot of the bed?”

“We have a winner!” exclaimed Joey with a wide smile. 

“I don’t know, I’ve just never had that kind of relationship with someone. You know, where you have to have somebody right there in the middle of a theme park? Or—or on a piano, or a pool table. See, Barry wouldn’t even kiss me on a miniature-golf course. He said we were holding up the people behind us,” she said, expression dropping.

Phoebe placed a warm hand on her shoulder. “Barry was an asshole!” You nodded along in agreement, raising a glass of apple juice at her words. 

“I don’t know… do you guys think there are people who just go through life without…” She gestured emphatically, looking unsure of herself.

“Probably,” said Ross. “But I’ll tell you what—passion is way overrated. Eventually, it kind of burns out. But hopefully what you’re left with is trust and security, and, well in my case—lesbianism.”

Joey guffawed, and you choked on your juice mid-sip. 

Tentative, you began speaking up, “Yeah, Rach, sometimes love or sex doesn’t have to be loud and extravagant or reckless or whatever. It can just be there, you know? It’s not bad to have quiet love, too. The kind where you’re comfortable to be silent around each other.”

“You’re right,” said Rachel, deep in thought. “I’m going to the bathroom—I’ll be right back.”

Monica and Phoebe also got up from their seats, stretching out their tensed muscles. “We’re going to go sit out on the balcony—it’s not often we get to see the city in complete darkness.”

“I’m staying here,” you murmured contentedly, just about melting against the cushions. Joey brought your legs up to rest over his own and you grinned at him. 

The two women looked at each other knowingly, before ducking out through the window to the balcony. Ross stayed back too, fiddling with his fingers. 

“It’s never going to work, you know,” Joey told him.

“What? What’re you talking about?” he asked, miffed.

“You and Rachel,” he replied in a hushed whisper, rubbing his hand over your knee. You hummed pleasantly, shutting your eyes—Joey had no doubt that you were already completely knocked out. “I know you like her.”

There was a beat of silence. “Wh… why don’t you think it’ll work out?” queried Ross.

“Because you’ve waited too long to ask her out, and now you’ve been friend-zoned!” replied Joey.

Ross narrowed his eyes. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

“Huh? What are you talking about?” Joey said, furrowing his brows. 

“Nothing, nevermind.” The tall man waved his friend away. “I’m not in the friend-zone!”

“No, Ross, you’re like the mayor of the zone!” 

Frowning, Ross shook his head vehemently. Frustration wove tightly through his words like vines. “I’m taking my time, okay? I’m laying down the groundwork. Every day I get a little bit closer to—”

“Priesthood!” exclaimed Joey, wincing when you shifted, mumbling in your sleep. “Face it, Ross, if you don’t ask her out soon, you’ll end up stuck in the zone forever.”

“I will,” he emphasized, more like he was convincing himself than Joey. “I’m just waiting for the right moment.”

Joey spread his arms out with an incredulous expression. “What’s keeping you? The wine? The candles? The moonlight? You just gotta go up to her and—”

It was then that Rachel came out of the bathroom, cooing when she caught sight of you curled up on the couch, sleeping soundly.

Joey shot Ross a meaningful look, and the taller man rose from the sofa. “Hey, Rach, can I talk to you in the kitchen for a second?”

“Oh, sure,” she replied, a bit confused, but followed him away from the living room. 

That left just you and Joey on the couch, and he sighed, glancing down at you, basking in the gentle glow of the moonlight. Shadows arched over your features, softened with slumber. A strange feeling curled up within his gut—one that he couldn’t recall ever feeling before. It clutched over his rib cage and wound itself over his lungs, leaving his breaths tight and uneven. He reached out to brush a stray tendril of hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear.

One of your eyes cracked open and you groggily propped yourself up on an elbow. “Why’re you staring at me?”

That feeling in Joey’s gut seemed to intensify, and he squirmed in uncomfort.

“You’re just…” he started, narrowing his eyes as he searched for the right words.

“I’m just…?”

“You just… really make me happy,” he finally said, unsure if that was what he wanted to say. Dissatisfaction scratched down his throat but he swallowed it down.

A cheeky grin painted itself across your lips. “Okay, you big sap. You make me happy, too.” You shifted your position so you could rest your head on his shoulder, already drifting off to sleep again. 

By the time you woke up, the city was still shrouded in complete darkness, but there was a new stranger in Monica’s apartment. Rachel introduced him to you as Paolo, who lived a couple stories below, and you flinched in surprise when he had taken your hand and placed a soft kiss.

God, he was practically eye-fucking you on the spot!

You nodded uncomfortably, pulling away to stand behind Joey, who crossed his arms in an almost protective manner.

“So, uh, what’s Paolo doing here?”

“Well, we found his cat wandering on the balconies and we brought it to him!” said Rachel, clapping her hands together. You noted with mild interest that Ross had angry red claw marks down one side of his face. 

For the rest of the night, Rachel was all over Paolo, and Monica and Phoebe were fawning over him for the side.

“Gosh, just look at his face! I just wanna bite his bottom lip, you know?” Phoebe had told you, eyes glimmering.

You blinked. “I don’t, but, thanks for telling me, Pheebs!”

Rachel rushed to you with fluttering hands and a smile so wide that it was a wonder her face didn’t split into two. Paolo was by the window, watching the moon with a dazed expression—alright, maybe you could kind of see where the appeal came from.

“The first time he smiled at me—those three seconds were more exciting than three weeks in Bermuda with Barry! I mean, I know it’s totally superficial and we have nothing in common and we don’t even speak the same language, but, God!”

“Man, you’re horny,” you commented, which earned you a sharp glare from her. You raised your hands backing away. “Go get him, tiger!”

A couple hours later, the entire group was back on the couches (plus Paolo), and the last candle was on its way to burning out. 

Phoebe began counting down, but Joey blew it out in exasperation, which made you glare at him—not that he could see it. 

“Kinda spooky without the lights on, huh?” he whispered into your ear, and you nearly screamed at the sudden ticklish sensation of his fingers prodding your side. You tried smacking his shoulder, but because as you couldn’t see a single thing, you ended up slapping his face a little too hard, and he doubled over, a strained noise wrangling out of his throat.

Conveniently, the lights began to slowly flicker on. The group gasped, but you just assumed that they were surprised to see Joey in pain.

You cradled Joey’s face in your hands, checking if you did any lasting damage. You promptly let go of him when he appeared to be just fine, saying, “Oh, don’t be such a baby, Jo.” 

When you finally looked up, you realized the true reason why the group had gasped.

Rachel and Paolo were heavily making out against the wall, looking ready to tear each other’s clothes right off.

“Oh,” you said, not really surprised at all. “Paolo lost his cat and suddenly he got an entire new pussy.”

The group burst into laughter at your comment, which made Rachel flip you off, not even bothering to break the kiss. She led him into her room and slammed the door behind her.

“Lights are back on—I should get going home,” you said, getting up from your seat and moving to the door. 

The rest of the friends chimed their goodbyes, but Joey was quick to protest. “Wait, uh, what if the lights turn back off? I don’t want you going home all alone in the dark.”

You stopped in your tracks, tilting your head. “I don’t live that far, it’s only a couple blocks—”

“Just stay at my place for the night,” he said, leading you to the door. “You can leave first thing in the morning, when it’s bright out.”

“You sure? I don’t wanna impose on you and Chandler or anything. Speaking of Chandler, I hope he’s doing okay,” you said, suddenly remembering that he was still stuck somewhere with Jill Goodacre. Yeah, he was definitely more than okay.

“Yeah, I’m sure Chandler’s fine,” replied Joey. “But yeah, I’m also sure I want you to stay—besides, my bed’s too big for just one person, you know?”

Rolling your eyes, you patted his chest, before walking across the hall and into his apartment. Teasingly, you said, “If you wanted me to sleep with you, you could’ve just asked, Jo. No funny business, though, right?”

“Yeah,” he choked out, a bit delayed before following you in. “No funny business.”