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mollyrealized · 2 months

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How Michael Met Neil

original direct link [MP3]

(Neil, if you see this, please feel free to grab the transcript and store on your site; I had no easy way of contacting you.)

DAVID TENNANT: Tell me about @neil-gaiman then, because he's in that category [previously: “such a profound effect on my life”] as well.

MICHAEL SHEEN: So this is what has brought us together.

DAVID: Yes.

MICHAEL: To the new love story for the 21st century.

DAVID: Exactly.

MICHAEL: So when I went to drama school, there was a guy called Gary Turner in my year. And within the first few weeks, we were doing something, having a drink or whatever. And he said to me, “Do you read comic books?”

And I said, “No.” I mean, this is … what … '88? '88, '89. So it was … now I know that it was a period of time that was a big change, transformation going through comic books. Rather than it being thought of as just superheroes and Batman and Superman, there was this whole new era of a generation of writers like Grant Morrison.

DAVID: The kids who'd grown up reading comic books were now making comic books

MICHAEL: Yeah, yeah, and starting to address different kinds of subjects through the comic book medium. So it wasn't about just superheroes, it was all kinds of stuff going on – really fascinating stuff. And I was totally unaware of this.

And so this guy Gary said to me, "Do you read them?" And I said, "No." And he went, "Right, okay, here's The Watchman [sic] by Alan Moore. Here's Swamp Thing. Here's Hellblazer. And here's Sandman.”

And Sandman was Neil Gaiman's big series that put his name on the map. And I read all those, and, just – I was blown away by all of them, but particularly the Sandman stories, because he was drawing on mythology, which was something I was really interested in, and fairy tales, folklore, and philosophy, and Shakespeare, and all kinds of stuff were being mixed up in this story. And I absolutely loved it.

So I became a big fan of Neil's, and started reading everything by him. And then fairly shortly after that, within six months to a year, Good Omens the book came out, which Neil wrote with Terry Pratchett. And so I got the book – because I was obviously a big fan of Neil's by this point – read it, loved it, then started reading Terry Pratchett’s stuff as well, because I didn't know his stuff before then – and then spent years and years and years just being a huge fan of both of them.

And then eventually when – I'd done films like the Underworld films and doing Twilight films. And I think it was one of the Twilight films, there was a lot of very snooty interviews that happened where people who considered themselves well above talking about things like Twilight were having to interview me … and, weirdly, coming at it from the attitude of 'clearly this is below you as well' … weirdly thinking I'm gonna go, 'Yeah, fucking Twilight.”

And I just used to go, "You know what? Some of the greatest writing of the last 50-100 years has happened in science fiction or fantasy." Philip K Dick is one of my favorite writers of all time. In fact, the production of Hamlet I did was mainly influenced by Philip K Dick. Ursula K. Le Guin and Asimov, and all these amazing people. And I talked about Neil as well. And so I went off on a bit of a rant in this interview.

Anyway, the interview came out about six months later, maybe. Knock on the door, open the door, delivery of a big box. That’s interesting. Open the box, there's a card at the top of the box. I open the card.

It says, From one fan to another, Neil Gaiman. And inside the box are first editions of Neil's stuff, and all kinds of interesting things by Neil. And he just sent this stuff.

DAVID: You'd never met him?

MICHAEL: Never met him. He'd read the interview, or someone had let him know about this interview where I'd sung his praises and stood up for him and the people who work within that sort of genre as being like …

And he just got in touch. We met up for the first time when he came to – I was in Los Angeles at the time, and he came to LA. And he said, "I'll take you for a meal."

I said, “All right.”

He said, "Do you want to go somewhere posh, or somewhere interesting?”

I said, "Let's go somewhere interesting."

He said, "Right, I'm going to take you to this restaurant called The Hump." And it's at Santa Monica Airport. And it's a sushi restaurant.

I was like, “Right, okay.” So I had a Mini at the time. And we get in my Mini and we drive off to Santa Monica Airport. And this restaurant was right on the tarmac, like, you could sit in the restaurant (there's nobody else there when we got there, we got there quite early) and you're watching the planes landing on Santa Monica Airport. It's extraordinary.

And the chef comes out and Neil says, "Just bring us whatever you want. Chef's choice."

So, I'd never really eaten sushi before. So we sit there; we had this incredible meal where they keep bringing these dishes out and they say, “This is [blah, blah, blah]. Just use a little bit of soy sauce or whatever.” You know, “This is eel. This is [blah].”

And then there was this one dish where they brought out and they didn't say what it was. It was like “mystery dish”, we had it ... delicious. Anyway, a few more people started coming into the restaurant as time went on.

And we're sort of getting near the end, and I said, "Neil, I can't eat anymore. I'm gonna have to stop now. This is great, but I can't eat–"

"Right, okay. We'll ask for the bill in a minute."

And then the door opens and some very official people come in. And it was the Feds. And the Feds came in, and we knew they were because they had jackets on that said they were part of the Federal Bureau of Whatever. And about six of them come in. Two of them go … one goes behind the counter, two go into the kitchen, one goes to the back. They've all got like guns on and stuff.

And me and Neil are like, "What on Earth is going on?"

And then eventually one guy goes, "Ladies and gentlemen, if you haven't ordered already, please leave. If you're still eating your meal, please finish up, pay your bill, leave."*

[* - delivered in a perfect American ‘serious law agent’ accent/impression]

And we were like, "Oh my God, are we poisoned? Is there some terrible thing that's happened?"

We'd finished, so we pay our bill. And then all the kitchen staff are brought out. And the head chef is there. The guy who's been bringing us this food. And he's in tears. And he says to Neil, "I'm so sorry." He apologizes to Neil. And we leave. We have no idea what happened.

DAVID: But you're assuming it's the mystery dish.

MICHAEL: Well, we're assuming that we can't be going to – we can't be – it can't be poisonous. You know what I mean? It can't be that there's terrible, terrible things.

So the next day was the Oscars, which is why Neil was in town. Because Coraline had been nominated for an Oscar. Best documentary that year was won by The Cove, which was by a team of people who had come across dolphins being killed, I think.

Turns out, what was happening at this restaurant was that they were having illegal endangered species flown in to the airport, and then being brought around the back of the restaurant into the kitchen.

We had eaten whale – endangered species whale. That was the mystery dish that they didn't say what it was.

And the team behind The Cove were behind this sting, and they took them down that night whilst we were there.

DAVID: That’s extraordinary.

MICHAEL: And we didn't find this out for months. So for months, me and Neil were like, "Have you worked anything out yet? Have you heard anything?"

"No, I haven't heard anything."

And then we heard that it was something to do with The Cove, and then we eventually found out that that restaurant, they were all arrested. The restaurant was shut down. And it was because of that. And we'd eaten whale that night.

DAVID: And that was your first meeting with Neil Gaiman.

MICHAEL: That was my first meeting. And also in the drive home that night from that restaurant, he said, and we were in my Mini, he said, "Have you found the secret compartment?"

I said, "What are you talking about?" It's such a Neil Gaiman thing to say.

DAVID: Isn't it?

MICHAEL: The secret compartment? Yeah. Each Mini has got a secret compartment. I said, "I had no idea." It's secret. And he pressed a little button and a thing opened up. And it was a secret compartment in my own car that Neil Gaiman showed me.

DAVID: Was there anything inside it?

MICHAEL: Yeah, there was a little man. And he jumped out and went, "Hello!" No, there was nothing in there. There was afterwards because I started putting...

DAVID: Sure. That's a very Neil Gaiman story. All of that is such a Neil Gaiman story.

MICHAEL: That's how it began. Yeah.

DAVID: And then he came to offer you the part in Good Omens.

MICHAEL: Yeah. Well, we became friends and we would whenever he was in town, we would meet up and yeah, and then eventually he started, he said, "You know, I'm working on an adaptation of Good Omens." And I can remember at one point Terry Gilliam was going to maybe make a film of it. And I remember being there with Neil and Terry when they were talking about it. And...

DAVID: Were you involved at that point?

MICHAEL: No, no, I wasn't involved. I just happened to have met up with Neil that day.

DAVID: Right.

MICHAEL: And then Terry Gilliam came along and they were chatting, that was the day they were talking about that or whatever.

And then eventually he sent me one of the scripts for an early draft of like the first episode of Good Omens. And he said – and we started talking about me being involved in it, doing it – he said, “Would you be interested?” I was like, "Yeah, of course." I went, "Oh my God." And he said, "Well, I'll send you the scripts when they come," and I would read them, and we'd talk about them a little bit. And so I was involved.

But it was always at that point with the idea, because he'd always said about playing Crowley in it. And so, as time went on, as I was reading the scripts, I was thinking, "I don't think I can play Crowley. I don't think I'm going to be able to do it." And I started to get a bit nervous because I thought, “I don't want to tell Neil that I don't think I can do this.” But I just felt like I don't think I can play Crowley.

DAVID: Of course you can [play Crowley?].

MICHAEL: Well, I just on a sort of, on a gut level, sometimes you have it on a gut level.

DAVID: Sure, sure.

MICHAEL: I can do this.

DAVID: Yeah.

MICHAEL: Or I can't do this. And I just thought, “You know what, this is not the part for me. The other part is better for me, I think. I think I can do that, I don't think I could do that.”

But I was scared to tell Neil because I thought, "Well, he wants me to play Crowley" – and then it turned out he had been feeling the same way as well. And he hadn't wanted to mention it to me, but he was like, "I think Michael should really play Aziraphale."

And neither of us would bring it up. And then eventually we did. And it was one of those things where you go, "Oh, thank God you said that. I feel exactly the same way." And then I think within a fairly short space of time, he said, “I think we've got … David Tennant … for Crowley.” And we both got very excited about that.

And then all these extraordinary people started to join in. And then, and then off we went.

DAVID: That's the other thing about Neil, he collects people, doesn't he? So he'll just go, “Oh, yeah, I've phoned up Frances McDormand, she's up for it.” Yeah. You're, what?

MICHAEL: “I emailed Jon Hamm.”

DAVID: Yeah.

MICHAEL: And yeah, and you realize how beloved he is and how beloved his work is. And I think we would both recognise that Good Omens is one of the most beloved of all of Neil's stuff.

DAVID: Yes.

MICHAEL: And had never been turned into anything.

DAVID: Yeah.

MICHAEL: And so the kind of responsibility of that, I mean, for me, for someone who has been a fan of him and a fan of the book for so long, I can empathize with all the fans out there who are like, “Oh, they better not fuck this up.”

DAVID: Yes.

MICHAEL: “And this had better be good.” And I have that part of me. But then, of course, the other part of me is like, “But I'm the one who might be fucking it up.”

DAVID: Yeah.

MICHAEL: So I feel that responsibility as well.

DAVID: But we have Neil on site.

MICHAEL: Yes. Well, Neil being the showrunner …

DAVID: Yeah. I think it takes the curse off.

MICHAEL: … I think it made a massive difference, didn't it? Yeah. You feel like you're in safe hands.

DAVID: Well, we think. Not that the world has seen it yet.

MICHAEL (grimly): No, I know.

DAVID: But it was a -- it's been a -- it's been a joy to work with you on it. I can't wait for the world to see it.

MICHAEL: Oh my God. Oh, well, I mean, it's the only, I've done a few things where there are two people, it's a bit of a double act, like Frost-Nixon and The Queen, I suppose, in some ways. But, and I've done it, Amadeus or whatever.

This is the only thing I've done where I really don't think of it as “my character” or “my performance as that character”. I think of it totally as us.

DAVID: Yeah.

MICHAEL: The two of us.

DAVID: Yes.

MICHAEL: Like they, what I do is defined by what you do.

DAVID: Yeah.

MICHAEL: And that was such a joy to have that experience. And it made it so much easier in a way as well, I found, because you don't feel like you're on your own in it. Like it's totally us together doing this and the two characters totally complement each other. And the experience of doing it was just a real joy.

DAVID: Yeah. Well, I hope the world is as excited to see it as we are to talk about it, frankly.

MICHAEL: You know, there's, having talked about T.S. Eliot earlier, there's another bit from The Wasteland where there's a line which goes, These fragments I have shored against my ruin.

And this is how I think about life now. There is so much in life, no matter what your circumstances, no matter what, where you've got, what you've done, how much money you got, all that. Life's hard. I mean, you can, it can take you down at any point.

You have to find this stuff. You have to like find things that will, these fragments that you hold to yourself, they become like a liferaft, and especially as time goes on, I think, as I've got older, I've realized it is a thin line between surviving this life and going under.

And the things that keep you afloat are these fragments, these things that are meaningful to you and what's meaningful to you will be not-meaningful to someone else, you know. But whatever it is that matters to you, it doesn't matter what it was you were into when you were a teenager, a kid, it doesn't matter what it is. Go and find them, and find some way to hold them close to you.

Make it, go and get it. Because those are the things that keep you afloat. They really are. Like doing that with him or whatever it is, these are the fragments that have shored against my ruin. Absolutely.

DAVID: That's lovely. Michael, thank you so much.

MICHAEL: Thank you.

DAVID: For talking today and for being here.

MICHAEL: Oh, it's a pleasure. Thank you.

#neil gaiman #michael sheen #david tennant does a podcast with...#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #sushi #whale #the cove #oscars 2010 #coraline #mini secret compartments #howneilmetmichael #howmichaelmetneil

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fuckyeahgoodomens · 3 months

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The Good Omens Musical Masterpost🎵❤

How it started :)

Some time before 2013: Vicki Larnach, the australian composer and lyricist, read the Good Omens book, imagined figures dancing on stage with brilliant music and thought, ‘Ah, I’m gonna ask Terry Pratchet and Neil Gaiman if I can turn it into a musical.’ and sent an email to the publishers. The next day she got an email saying, ‘We don’t want a musical but Terry’s coming to Australia, so come and say hello and tell us what you got.’

Rob Wilkins came down to meet Vicki and Jim Hare - Vicki's husband and writer - and took them to meet Terry. They spent an hour and a half with them where Terry asked ‘piercing questions’, had tea with them and they showed Terry a song that Vicki wrote (about the Chattering Nuns). Terry said to Rob, ‘Rob, write and email to Neil, “Dear Neil, this is Terry. I’m sitting in front of two hippies from Sydney and they want to make a musical out of Good Omens and I’m tempted to let them do it.”’ which was the best email they ever heard and then Terry said, ‘Okay, you have me curious.’ - it was because of the Nuns song which sounded like the book. ‘I’m gonna give you six months, come back with a first draft libretto and five songs.’

They then sent it to Terry who sent it to Neil. Terry said, ‘I really like it, you’re moving story, you’re doing all the right things, but where’s showstopper, where’s the toe-tapper, you know I need people to go to intermission just snapping their fingers with the song they just can’t get out of their head, and I haven’t heard that.’ - and they realized that they were so busy serving the story they forgot to do the wow-factor, but found it very encouraging from Terry that he wanted to make it better.

They went through the whole book again to find a centrepiece - and they found it when Warlock is growing up and Aziraphale and Crowley are with him, and spent months working just on that one thing and called ‘All Living Things’ [the song at the start of this post :)] which is a line from the book.*’ Terry gave that song to a person he knew and asked him to play it to his wife with no context and when the next day the person said that his wife woke up still singing the song Terry said to Vicki and Jim: ‘Well, that’s what I asked you to do.’

* [“This here’s Brother Slug,” the gardener would tell him, “and this tiny little critter is Sister Potato Weevil. Remember, Warlock, as you walk your way through the highways and byways of life’s rich and fulsome path, to have love and reverence for all living things.” “Nanny says that wivving fings is fit onwy to be gwound under my heels, Mr. Fwancis,” said little Warlock, stroking Brother Slug, and then wiping his hand conscientiously on his Kermit the Frog overall.]

Vicki and Jim got the permission to being adapting it as a musical in 2013.

Vicki and Jim on it a couple of years ‘fumbling about’, took it as far as they could and decided to bring another person into it: Jay-James Moody

In 2015, Jay James-Moody joined the collaboration initially as a dramaturge and directorial eye, eventually evolving into co-book writer. Vicki, James and Jay have continued to evolve through countless more revisions and a number of private development readings with the support, time and talent of numerous wonderful Australian performers testing the material.

In November 2017, the musical was presented in its then-current form and entirety for the first time before an audience of over 500 eager attendees. The cast included Luke Joslin, Lachlan O’Brien, Nancye Hayes, Barry Quin, Brett O’Neill, Lauren McKenna, Nicholas Craddock, Paul Capsis, Rob Johnson, Amy Lehpamer, Debora Krizak, Blake Erickson, Nat Jobe, Ana Maria Belo, Jordan Hare, Bella Thomas, Anthony Abrakmanov and Samson Hyland.

Following a rapturous response to this reading it continued to be refined and developed.

In 2019, ten days before the show came out they did their last presentation, since then they’ve been to London and shown a videotape of that workshop to Neil and Rob which was ‘a pretty heartstopping experience’ but both Neil and Rob were ‘so lovely and very generous with their time’ and they were showing it to them and in the intermission Neil said ‘I wish Terry could have seen this.’ (see here :))

Differences between the musical and the book

The ending of the musical is a bit different, they were worried about it but Neil said, ‘I totally understand, the ending of the TV series is different, because I had something that was book-shaped and I needed to make it TV-shaped. And you had something that was book-shaped and you needed to make it stage-shaped.’

It opens with the burning of Agnes Nutter and Aziraphale and Crowley are introduced there.

Act One ends with them ‘essentially breaking up’ because of a huge argument and they dissolve their friendship, Act Two starts with the first time they meet.

The Future?

What is the future for the musical: in 2021 they said that they need to work on some things and then they hope to do another run, initially in Australia.

There will be a CD of the soundtrack available when the show is produced in it’s full version.

Videos

Vicki, Jim and Jay talking 46min about the musical (this video was shown at the Ineffable Con 3 in 2021 :))

Sizzle Reel 6min

Anathema singing The Perfect Place

Crowley calling Dagon to check on the hellhound

Shadwell and Newt

Aziraphale vanishing Hastur 👀

Links

Webpage

Instagram - a lot of more bts videos and pics :)

How to support?

Subsribe to the instagram page and like and comment that you want the musical on posts :)❤. If you want to be a sponsor or donor, there is contact on their webpage.

#good omens #good omens musical #musical #masterposts #terry pratchett #neil gaiman #fun fact #:)

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armageddidnt · 8 months

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Welcome to My Collection of Random Thoughts during my nth* rewatch of Good Omens Season 2

*only amazon prime knows the exact number at this point but I’m fairly certain it’s in the double digits

Episode 1: Gabriel’s fly lurking in the box when Aziraphale first takes it inside 👀

Crowley’s promise of “two minutes” basically means that he’s been homeless and living in his car for the past 4 years strictly so that he can be within 2 driving minutes of Aziraphale at all times in case his angel needs him I’m not crying you are

So here I think the key word is “fragile,” Crowley knows they are ostensibly safe from their respective sides but that could change at any moment so he’s basically spent the last 4 years in anxiety-ridden terror hovering as close to Aziraphale as he can to try and protect him from heaven, hell, and anyone else that would want to bring him harm after all that business they pulled in season 1 with stopping Armageddon

Episode 2: I just happened to pause the episode while Aziraphale is lying to the angels about his miracle and LOL Michael really outdid himself here (Sheen, not the Archangel)

Gabriel trying to swat flies and almost smashing the repository of every single one of his memories

I’m cAckling

So if Good Omens exists in Good Omens, does that mean Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett exist in Good Omens?? Do you think they based their Aziraphale and Crowley characters on Aziraphale and Crowley??

Episode 3: So I’m trying to find any hints or foreshadowing of the Gabriel Beelzebub thing bc tbh I did kind of feel like it came out of nowhere which is really the only issue I have with them. I found this one scene where Beelzebub almost ?? seems to be concerned about Gabriel ?? But it’s blink and you miss it and there could be lots of other reasons why Beelzebub doesn’t want to fail in locating Gabriel (pressure from/leverage over heaven, etc) so idk

More Foreshadowing Fly content 🪰

Episode 4: So here we’ve seen that Shax can just appear inside the Bentley bc she did it earlier to talk to Crowley. Shax only pretended to be a hitchhiker so she could be invited in because Azirpahale was driving so technically she needed permission to cross the threshold of an angel 👀

This scene will never not destroy me the 1941 flashback is the absolute sOFTEST thing ever to happen on this show

We really need more context here I need to see the Crowley-Furfur Monkey Rides

Episode 5: ahahaha thank you google translate for absolutely destroying my sanity this evening

POP goes the Ziraphale

Okay I know you can’t hear it in the gif but just before Nina takes Maggie’s hand, there’s a very quiet miracle noise, like Azirpahale literally MADE Nina dance with Maggie, he said I’m writing a Mina Jane-Austen-Ball-AU and my otp will KISS godDAMMIT

Azirpahale seems lowkey kind of manic this whole scene tho, he’s controlling literally everyone to force Nina and Maggie together and whenever Crowley says anything that pokes holes in Aziraphale’s Magical Jane Austen Ball Fairytale, Aziraphale just straight up denies it. He wants Nina and Maggie to dance and he wants him and Crowley to dance and he refuses to acknowledge anything beyond that.

Is this just Shax insulting Crowley for how much of a nuisance he’s been or a reference to his former status as an angel ???

They’re both completely dismissive of each other when they’re trying to say something important and that’s the main issue they’ve been having this entire season tbh

Episode 6: I think it’s funny that Crowley describes the angels as bees here because in the book, Neil/Terry describe humans the same way. Guess we have more in common than we thought huh?

So the metatron was the one who originally decided Gabriel would be memory wiped and not sent to hell, and he was also the one that decided not to sound an alarm about Gabriel for some reason and said ‘just go find him yourself’ instead. The metatron has definitely got his own agenda and you can bet he doesn’t want Aziraphale up there in heaven because he’s a “leader” and he’s “honest” like that’s exactly what Gabriel was and look where it got him 👀

There’s just something I can’t quite put my finger on about the metatron bringing Aziraphale a coffee from “give me coffee or give me death” and then asking Aziraphale if he’s going to take the coffee he’s giving him…

I have not seen a single person talk about this since s2 came out but Nina literally calls Maggie “angel” because that’s the term of endearment they hear Crowley using for Aziraphale !!!! I’m still going fERAL over this and I can’t believe no one else is eitHER

Something about this part of The Final Fifteen compared to this scene from the first episode is so representative of the entire season. Azirpahale keeps saying “my way or get out” and Crowley finally hits a wall and can follow Aziraphale no further. So he does just that. He goes.

I’m sure a lot of us by now have seen this post that brings up how Aziraphale literally pushes the remains of Crowley into his mouth and swallows and it’s the only thing I see when I watch this now

We still don’t know for certain if Crowley queued up this song to play on their way to the Ritz or if the Bentley started playing it all on its own and it’s driving me insane

Basically how I am doing after my Truly-Alarming-Number-th watch of this traumatizing episode/season. WELP hope you enjoyed this garbage dump of my thoughts and feelings time to go cry for a bit again BYE

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens season 2 #my season 2 rewatch aka: I Went Insane #i am unwell #I haven't slept properly in 44 days and counting #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #angel #demon #armageddidnt-blog #armageddidnt-gifset #armageddidnt-screaming #armageddidnt-pain #good omens 2x06

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andvys · 1 month

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Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter eight ⭐︎ Say my name and everything just stops

Warnings: 18+, minors don't interact! jealousy, angst, low self-esteem (kinda?), mentions of the upside down. weed and alcohol consumption. I will not spoiler anything here, so read with caution

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: You blindly began to follow your feelings, hanging onto a hope that died just as quickly as it came.

Word count: 10k+

Author's note: @hellfire--cult and I came up with this whole idea and we kept talking about this moment for weeks and now its finally here, I hope you guys are gonna enjoy it as much as we did hehe

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next Chapter

♡

The spring wind blows through the open windows in your room, touching your skin and slightly lifting the ends of your new dress. The smell of vanilla and the floral scent of your perfume lingers in the air. You’re leaning closer to your mirror as you apply your favorite gloss to your lips.

A tingling, exciting feeling bubbles in your stomach, your heart jumping every few seconds or so at the thought of seeing him today.

Steve’s reactions were everything you were hoping for when you teased him at the diner and in his car, yesterday. His blushing cheeks and the wide, darkened eyes filled you with victory after you had placed a kiss upon his flushed skin. You are still not sure what had caused you the sudden rush of courage, but you’re glad that it hit you because the way he looked at you, the way he reacted, the way his breath hitched in his throat finally gave you the last push to do what you had always wanted to do. Today, you’re finally going to give in to your feelings.

The nervous, insecure part of you is telling you that there is still a big chance that he might reject you, that you will ruin this thing between you both by making the final move.

And usually that weak part of your mind would win, it would fill you with enough humiliating images to pull back, to make you rethink your decision, to keep you hiding in the shadows, the way you always did.

But you’re no longer letting it win.

You will do this, even if you might lose your dignity.

Placing the lip gloss back on your vanity, you reach for your favorite necklace, and put it on. You touch up your hair one last time, fixing your bangs before you take a step back, eying the red and white sundress, the little bows on the straps, the dainty flowers on the material, the shortness of it that exposes enough of your skin to drive him crazy… you hope.

‘Just make your move, babe. Do you really think King Steve would reject you?’

Your smile falls a little when Billy’s voice echoes in your mind.

Every memory of your best friend brings a hurtful pang to your heart.

He was the only one who knew about your feelings for Steve and surprisingly he kept encouraging you to ask him out, to make your move.

Would he be proud of you now?

Or would he still make fun of you for liking someone like Steve?

You step away from the mirror and walk over to the window, closing it before you leave your room and make your way downstairs. Eddie isn’t picking you up for once, even though he called you three times already, asking if he should come pick you up and if you’re truly feeling good enough to drive yourself again – you are. The headaches are gone, the dizziness is gone too. All that is left are the nightmares and the sudden rushes of anxiety but you are okay, you feel okay.

You walk over to the dresser in your hallway, reaching inside the key bowl to retrieve your car keys when something else catches your eye. The one single key, lying in there, you reach for it, furrowing your brows as you trace your finger along the metal, letting it fall in your palm.

You still remember the day when Max had showed up at your house, asking for you to take Billy’s car before Neil would destroy it in a moment of rage.

‘He’d want you to have it anyway.’ She said as she handed you the keys.

You remember how you broke down crying the moment you got into the driver's seat. You missed your best friend and it felt so wrong to sit in the place that once belonged to him.

You got the windshield fixed and anything else that needed to be repaired, before you parked it in your garage, planning to never open the gate again and just leave the car there until Max would ask for it back. And, you did leave it there, for a few weeks at least.

Your car broke down on a hot Friday afternoon and the mechanic at the local shop told you that it would take a few weeks to get it fixed. You walked and used the bus for a few days, and then the rain and the storms crashed upon Hawkins, giving you no choice but to take the blue Camaro.

Max even joked about it, she told you that it was Billy who caused your car to break down and who somehow let it rain and storm over the town so you would finally take his beloved car out for a ride because it’s just too pretty to be hidden and locked away in a dark, cold garage.

You’d sometimes drive around at night, when the streets were empty and no one was around.

When you visited your sister in Indianapolis, you took his car.

But now it’s been a while, the last time you sat behind that steering wheel was right before the apocalypse almost hit the town.

A sigh falls from your lips as you stare at the key.

“Not today,” you murmur as you place it back where it laid before and reach for your keys.

The drive to Eddie’s new place isn’t a long one, he only lives a few streets away from you now, it would only be a ten minute walk but you desperately waited for the moment when you could finally drive again, and you didn’t want to pass up on the opportunity today.

You missed this, sitting behind the steering wheel, instead of the passenger seat, longing to be the one in control. You missed picking the music yourself – not that Eddie’s music taste is a bad one, you just need a mix of everything, not just rock and heavy metal, sometimes you just need a girly pop song – not that you would ever admit it to him.

When you arrive at your destination and you pull up to Eddie’s driveway, you notice that Steve’s car isn’t there yet. Only Jonathan’s car is parked next to Eddie’s Impala.

Steve is never late, yesterday being the first time that he was the last one to arrive, so he is either still waiting for Robin or… running late is his new thing.

“There she is!” Eddie chuckles as opens the front door at the same time as you get out of your car, “and she’s here in one piece!”

A laugh tumbles from your lips as you close the door and lock your car before you make your way over to him, eying the new shirt he’s wearing – which is just another band tee that you have never heard of before. His curly hair up in a bun and a can of beer in his hand.

“I’m a good driver, what are you talking about, Eds?”

He furrows his brows, lips curling into an amused smile, “are you?”

You walk up the steps to his porch, greeting him with an eye roll, “you know what, next time I’ll pick you up.”

He smirks, using his index finger to point at your car.

“What, with your baby Mustang over there?”

You squint your eyes at him, “nope, I’ll take the hidden gem in my garage.”

“Wait what… What hidden gem?”

“You’ll find out,” you wink at him, trying to brush past him when he stops you, placing his hand on your arm, he pulls you back softly.

“Wait.”

You raise your brows at him, “yes?”

He’s got the twinkle in his eyes, the one he always has when he’s happy about something. His lip twitches, pale cheeks slowly changing color, he’s barely able to contain his excitement as he bounces on his feet.

“Guess who scored a date?”

Your eyes widen, lips parting as you remember the pretty waitress from the diner.

Eddie is blushing, lips now curling into a full smile.

“Oh my god, really?” You ask as a grin appears on your face.

“Yeah! I’m gonna take her out tomorrow night, I can’t fucking wait, sweets.” He says with a dreamy look in his eyes. “She was so sweet a-and fuck… she’s gorgeous, don’t know how she said yes to me.”

You frown at him, reaching your hand out to pinch his cheek, “you’re a handsome, sweet boy, Edward, now shush. You’re gonna knock her off her feet. Any girl would be lucky to have you.”

His eyes soften, he rubs the back of his neck before his fingers trace the scar on the side – you know that it’s now an insecurity of his, just like it is one of yours. Scars litter your skin from where a bat had left a gnarly wound on the back of your shoulder, from where Jason had hurt you, from where he had left reminders for you that he was the one who did this to you.

But your scars aren’t nearly half as bad as all the ones on his skin.

“I’ve never been on a date before,” he murmurs, eyes flashing with doubt.

“So? It’s gonna be even more special then,” you shrug.

“I just don’t wanna mess it up.”

“You won’t,” you smile at him, “you’ve got that special charm, one that makes others like you right away, you’re funny and you’re sweet, now stop doubting yourself or I’ll kick your ass and hunt down every asshole who ever made you feel otherwise.”

He chuckles at your words, though his eyes are still soft as he looks at you. He doesn’t doubt you, he knows that you would actually hunt down every name on the list of people who hurt him.

“Got it?”

“Got it.”

“Good,” you say, sternly.

“Good,” he nods.

You stare at each other for a moment before you both burst into giggles. He wraps his arm around your shoulder and he pulls you inside his house, narrowing his eyes as he takes in your dress.

“Who’d you dress up for, sweets?” He asks, “there’s no hot guys here.”

“Well, aren’t you humble?”

“No hot guys besides me, of course,” he corrects himself after clearing his throat, smirking at you.

You only shake your head in response.

You pass by the kitchen and the big shelf that was specifically customized for Wayne’s mug collection. Vinyls are on the walls in the long hallway that leads to the living room where you hear the chatter of your friends and the faint music that sounds through the house.

The smell of weed already lingering in the air.

The sound of Nancy’s giggle, followed by a voice you hadn’t heard in a while makes you furrow your brows.

“Argyle is back?”

Your surprised voice along with the wide eyes you look at him with make him chuckle. He knew you weren’t paying attention when he told you about it days back. You were too distracted by whatever daydream you were stuck in as he let both you and Steve know that Argyle was coming back to spend the summer in Hawkins before going off to college in September – something that Eddie definitely won’t be doing, he won’t be going to college, he won’t be going anywhere, at least not now, not yet, maybe not ever, even though it’s all he ever wanted.

He walked the stupid stage, he snatched his diploma and he finally flipped Higgins the bird, despite the glares, despite the whispers of the people who still blamed him for what had happened weeks back but it doesn’t matter, he tells himself. It doesn’t matter what they say or think because he got people who believed him, people who care about him, people who were willing to fight for him, people who are worth staying for.

“Yeah, he’s here the whole summer.”

“Ooh, means we’re gonna get high a lot, cool,” you giggle.

“Like we don’t do that all that time,” Eddie rolls his eyes, though a smile tugs at his lips as he pushes towards the living room, your feet carrying you closer and closer to your friends.

Despite Steve not being here yet, you already feel the rush of excitement mixed with the nervousness of what you plan on doing, flushing through your veins.

Your eyes first fall on Jonathan and Nancy who are standing by the door that leads out into Eddie’s backyard, his arm wrapped around her shoulder, a smile tugging at her lips when she sees you.

“Hi!” She waves at you, a friendly look on her face.

“Hey,” you smile at her before you look over at her boyfriend, greeting him as well. You then turn your head to your right, your smile widening when your eyes meet Argyle’s already very dazed ones.

He stands up from his seat on the couch, his hair falling in front of his face a little, he opens his arms, revealing his Bob Marley shirt to you.

“Well look at what the cat dragged in,” he jokes as he steps towards you, “come here, chica.”

You chuckle, leaving Eddie’s side to greet Argyle, who instantly pulls you into a tight hug. The smell of weed enveloping you, right away.

“I didn’t know you’d be back so soon!”

“So soon?” He slurs, patting your head when you pull back again, chuckling when you swat his hand away. “You didn’t miss me?” He jokes as he wraps his arm around your shoulder, just the way Eddie did before, he pulls something out of his pocket, handing it to you, “here, got you a little gift from California.”

Your eyes lighten up in amusement, a smile tugging at your lips as you look at the blunt he’s holding, you take it, holding it up as you look up at him with a grin, “why thanks.”

“You gotta share that one with me,” Jonathan grins at you, lazily.

“You’ve had enough already,” Nancy rolls her eyes, though not without a smile on her lips. She pats his chest, “come on, let’s go outside.”

“Yeah, you guys go ahead, I’m gonna grab some more drinks,” Eddie says before he leaves the living room.

You all step out into the backyard, walking over to the little fire pit where the flames are already glowing, surrounded by the comfortable seats. The sound of water flowing from the stream filling the air with a fresh scent, the smell of flowers and the trees giving you a sense of peace.

Eddie’s backyard is comforting and nice, despite being close to the forest, it’s making you feel safe. He wouldn’t have this now if he hadn’t been dragged into a world of darkness – unlike you, he didn’t grow up in wealth, he didn’t have a fancy house, a fancy backyard with a pool. No. Eddie grew up in a lonesome house, one that certainly wasn’t as luxurious as yours or the one he lives in now. The house he grew up in was haunted by painful memories of his mother that he lost at a way too young age and his father who came and went as he pleased, it was the only thing that he had, the only thing he called his own, but that was taken from him too and he had no choice but to move in with his Uncle Wayne, who had done everything to give him a home – and now, Eddie gave him that back, he gave Wayne a home, a nice house with a nice roof over his head, a garden that he always wanted to have. Eddie had tried to keep the upside down a secret, he didn’t want to talk about what was out there, he didn’t want to worry him, he didn’t want to tell him where all the money actually came from but Wayne isn’t stupid and Eddie isn’t exactly the best at keeping secrets from the people he loves and cares about.

You wonder what you would have told your parents if they were still here – would you have told them the truth about what actually happened at the Creel house? Or would you have kept it all a secret? You are certainly much better at keeping secrets hidden. Eddie couldn’t even look Wayne in the eyes when he told him that the bite marks on his skin came from a rabid dog and not from interdimensional bats.

Something cold touches your shoulder, making you flinch in surprise. You tilt your head up, meeting the eyes of your best friend again, “where’s your head at, sweets?” He chuckles, holding the can of diet pepsi out to you.

With furrowed brows, you look down at the drink and reach for it, “thanks,” you murmur, “and uh, nowhere. I’m just fascinated by your backyard.”

His dimples show when a laugh escapes him, he takes a seat beside you, snatching away the blunt from your lap, he places it between his lips and uses his red lighter to light it up. He lets out a content sigh as he leans back, puffing out the smoke into the sky before he takes a look around, “it’s nice isn’t it?”

You nod, pulling the tab on your pepsi, it opens with a pop.

“It’s better than mine.”

He turns his head to look at you, a bewildered look on his face, “you’re crazy, sweets. You got a pool.”

“You got one too!” You chuckle, pointing to the pool that has yet to be used, it’s warm out, not hot yet.

“Yeah, well yours is fucking huge, and you got a hot tub too!”

“You got a hot tub, chica?” Argyle gasps from your right, “oh, you’re rich rich.”

“Correction, my parents were rich.”

“Correction, we’re all rich now,” Jonathan adds, pointing at you with a dazed smile.

“Rich isn’t exactly the term I would use,” Nancy mumbles as she takes a sip of her soda.

“Then what term would you use, Wheeler?” Eddie asks, shaking his head at her, “enlighten us.”

Nancy clears her throat, placing her elbow on the wooden armrest, “we’re taken care of.”

Jonathan snorts, putting his hand on her thigh as he gives her an amused smile, while she already rolls her eyes at whatever is about to leave his mouth – there’s no annoyance behind her eyes though, no tension in her body from where he touched her, unlike with Steve, who she always looked tense and irritated with. Back then you didn’t understand why, there were so many questions in your mind when you watched them and when she left him – how could anyone be irritated with Steve? How could anyone be tense with someone that provides so much love and warmth to the people he so deeply cares about? How could she leave him? How could she break his heart? Who could ever hurt Steve Harrington?

“Just admit it, we’re rich.”

A groan echoes through the backyard, one that doesn’t belong to Eddie, Nancy or anyone else sitting in the circle. You all turn your heads towards the house, finding a very annoyed Robin making her way over to you, a six pack of beers in her hand, sunglasses perched on her nose even though the sun is starting to go down already.

Eddie isn’t surprised at her barging into his home, she does it all the time, to him, to you, to Steve, he doesn’t mind it though.

You straighten your back, holding your drink tighter as you look away from her, waiting for Steve to walk through the door.

The feelings inside of you start to rise again, your heart picking up the pace as your skin starts burning from the excitement.

Robin plops down in the seat next to Eddie, placing the beers on the ground as she slumps back, sighing loudly.

Everyone’s watching her, expecting a rant already but you’re still fixated on the door, waiting for him.

“Buckley, why so angry?”

She pulls her sunglasses up into her hair, turning to face him, “I’m glad you asked,” she murmurs as she reaches for one of the beers, “Dingus ditched me, so I had to walk all the way here!” She throws her arms up dramatically.

You furrow your brows at her words, the burning on your skin beginning to die down just as fast as it came.

Argyle and Jonathan chuckle at her.

“You live 3 blocks away from here…” Nancy mumbles.

“Not the point, Nance,” she argues, glaring at her friend.

“Wait, so Steve isn’t coming?” Jonathan slurs.

Your eyes are wide and hopeful, your hand clutching the can tighter as you dig your feet into the grass beneath you, a weird feeling settling in the pit of your stomach.

“Wetting his dick with Heidi seems more fucking important today,” she grumbles, rolling her eyes as she raises the beer to her lips.

Your heart drops.

The burning in your skin disappears completely as the fire is replaced by ice, the coldness of it freezing your whole body, stopping your heart and taking the false hope away as it kills every feeling that had taken home inside of you just seconds ago.

Your eyes are stuck on her like you’re waiting, waiting for her to laugh and say it was a joke, that he will be here soon, that he isn’t out with some other girl after what happened between you and him yesterday.

“Whoa, what?” Eddie mumbles, holding his hands up, “so… he’s on a date with the girl he didn’t want to keep seeing?”

“Yep.”

Every ounce of excitement is now replaced by the sickness in your stomach, the lump in your throat that makes you struggle to breathe.

What were you thinking?

That the game you played wasn't just a game to him? That it was something more than that? That he wanted you just the way you always wanted him? That he could ever feel something for you?

You don’t know whether you want to laugh at yourself or cry.

How saddening it is to long for someone who was forced to like you.

While you were getting ready, making yourself look pretty for him, thinking that he might like you in this dress – he was getting ready to take out another girl, a girl that he chose to like.

You slowly slump back in your seat when Eddie’s laughter pulls you back into reality. You blink, masking the shocked, pained look on your face with a relaxed one as you take a sip of your drink, hoping that it will get rid of the lump sitting in your throat – it doesn’t. Nothing does.

Your friends move on to another topic, while you stay there, where you will stay for a while now. The pain of the rejection that has never even taken place, slowly sinking in and everything around you begins to suffocate you – the dress you are wearing, the necklace around your neck, even the presence of your friends.

You don’t want to be here any longer, you need to be alone.

But you can’t go, not now, not yet.

It would be too soon, too obvious and they can’t know, no one can know about your feelings for Steve, about how much it hurts to feel that way for him.

So you hide the pain as best as you can, you nod along to your friends' conversation, you speak and you laugh when you have to, even when everything inside of you wants you to cry both out of sadness and anger.

You’re not even angry at him, you couldn’t be angry at him even if you tried to be. He doesn’t know about your feelings – if he did, he wouldn’t have filled you with false hope, you know he wouldn’t.

He wouldn’t string you along, you know he’s not the type of person to do something like that, not even to you. But you really thought that you had something, that there was something between you, that’s why you let your walls crumble, that’s why you started acting upon your feelings, that’s why you were ready to do more than just the subtle touches and the flirtations.

You wait, you wait for the right moment to leave, when everyone is distracted enough, you get up, after whispering an apology, a lie into Eddie’s ear, knowing that he doesn’t believe you, that he will probably call you later or even show up to check on you. But he lets you go.

And as you leave your friends, making your way back into the house, their laughter echoes in your ears, their happy voices and the cheerfulness they’re all feeling, that you were supposed to feel too.

You blink back the tears, not wanting them to fall just yet.

You make your way back to your car, not wasting a second to start it and drive home, your vision blurred and your throat hurting from how much you want to cry.

How foolish it was of you to think that you could ever stand a chance – there was never one to begin with. You will always be the one in the shadows, the one to secretly watch him, the one to secretly want him, the one with the jealousy and the heartache, the one wishing to be anyone but herself because maybe then, he would want you too.

The smell of smoke from the campfire is now lingering on your clothes and in your hair, tears are now falling freely, ruining the makeup that you have spent hours on, the makeup that you can’t wait to wash off now.

You don’t even want to think about him.

You don’t want to ask yourself what he’s doing now.

He touched you so softly, so subtly, and yet it did everything to set your insides on fire, to make you feel special, even if only for a short moment.

Now he is touching someone else, in far more special ways.

A frustrated sigh falls from your lips when you step inside your home, it’s cold and empty, something that you have felt like for a very long time until he started the fire inside of you, only to make it die again… and all without his knowledge.

You walk up the stairs and past your room, going straight into the bathroom, feeling the need to wash away the day, as though it could ease the aching in your chest. You start the shower before you turn to the sink, not even bothering to look at your reflection in the mirror, it would only make you feel more pathetic.

You can feel the hot tears rolling down your cheeks, the quivering in your bottom lip.

You hate this, you hate the sadness that you shouldn’t be feeling in the first place.

You got no reason to be sad, you should have put your feelings aside, knowing that nothing would ever come out of it.

It was all so obvious, it was just teasing, nothing more, nothing less. Nothing ever happened, so why would it happen now? He just found another way of messing with you, so that you two wouldn’t go at each other's throats like before.

You just have to go back. No more teasing like this. No more letting yourself get sucked into delusions. He is just having fun while you crave something more with him and get hopeful.

You aren’t having fun. You wanted more.

You have no choice but to go back to how you were before this… thing started.

Once your makeup is off and your dress is now laying on the bathroom floor, you step inside the shower, letting the warmth envelope you, hoping for a sense of comfort from it.

Standing there for a moment, you let the water rain upon your skin, matching the pace of your tears that you’re willing away.

You will hunt Billy in the afterlife for making you believe that King Steve could ever want you.

You use your scented shampoo, hoping that it will get rid of the smell of smoke in your hair. You love campfire’s but you can’t stand the stench it leaves on your clothes and your hair.

Your hands run over your smooth skin as you wash your body, reminding you of the fact that you even shaved this morning – you couldn’t feel more stupid than you do right now.

Despite the loudness of your own voice cursing at you inwardly and the water hitting the glass, you hear the sound of your doorbell going off – multiple times.

“What the fuck,” you murmur in confusion.

It keeps ringing again and again – once, twice and it stops after a third time before it turns into rapid knocking.

You know it isn’t Eddie, he wouldn’t even have the patience to ring your doorbell and wait for you to open, he’d just barge right in.

You’d choose to ignore it if the person outside wasn’t so goddamn persistent.

You turn off the shower, squeezing the water from your hair before you get out, and wrap a towel around your body. The mirror is fogged, as the rest of the room is, you open the door and step out into the hallway, that now feels colder than before.

The knocking continues, filling you with anger.

Who shows up at night, knocking like a mad man?

Maybe you shouldn’t make your way downstairs now, maybe you shouldn’t open the door to whoever it is on the other side. It could be anyone or anything but you doubt that Vecna came back from the dead to knock on doors now and hunt you of all people – he could have done that weeks back, you went through enough trauma, he could have easily chosen you but even he didn’t want you.

You rip open the door, ready to curse and yell at whoever is terrorizing you at this hour but every word gets caught in your throat and even your breathing halts for a second as your glassy eyes meet the hazel ones that you have been missing all day. Frustration and anger swirling inside them, blazing fire raging behind his eyes. His cheeks are slightly flushed, his chest rising up and down heavily as he stands on your porch, looking better than ever.

“Steve?” His name tumbles out of your mouth before you can stop it as you stare at him in confusion.

He eyes you up and down, taking in the sight of your exposed skin that is still dripping with water before he clenches his jaw, raising his hand to run his fingers through his hair, tugging at it.

Steve Harrington is fucked. He is utterly fucked. You have cursed him in every way possible, he can’t get you out of his mind, he can’t get you out of his system and the thought that you were only playing with him drove him insane. His hunger for you made him desperate, desperate for release.

So in his state of frustration and desperation, he called up Heidi, thinking that a date and sex with a girl he had been with before would help him move on and stop thinking about you but who was he fooling. He couldn’t even kiss her when she leaned in to greet him with her lips, he dodged her. He couldn’t even listen to the things she was telling him after they ordered their drinks. He couldn’t care less about her. All he could think about was you. All he wanted was you. He wanted your lips to kiss him, he wanted your hands to touch him, he wanted your body under his and the more he thought about it, the more he stopped caring about a possible humiliation after he’d finally make a move on you, he needed you, and he needed to try – if you’d reject him, then so be it, at least he would know and not live with the what if’s in his head.

He canceled the date in the middle of it, not caring about how messed up that was. He drove her home and without a second thought, he drove here, he came to you.

And now, you’re standing in front of him, in nothing but a towel, water rolling down your soft skin, big eyes filled with confusion, lips parted, lips that he wants to kiss until he grows breathless.

The sight in front of him does little to make any of this easier for him. You look like you’ve just walked out of one the dreams he had about you.

“You gotta be kidding me,” he murmurs under his breath, surprising you when he invites himself into your home, brushing past you with an intensity that almost knocks you off your feet.

You blink, turning around abruptly, a bewildered look replacing your confused one.

As you take in the sight of him, your sadness begins to dissolve as the anger you started to miss floods through your veins the longer you look at him.

You slam the door shut when the wind causes goosebumps to rise on your skin, you hold the towel tighter against your body as you glare at him, “what the fuck?”

“I have to be the one to say that!” He argues.

“Excuse me?” You scoff, your face now burning with rage. Every second that passes now makes you forget about the tears you just shed over him, irritation sparking inside of you so wildly that you want nothing more than to kick him out of your house for behaving that way towards you for no reason. “Weren’t you on a date with… Heidi?”

Steve clenches his jaw at the mocking voice, at the smirk now tugging on your lips. He chuckles, though not in amusement, he points a finger at you, “see, that’s what I’m fucking talking about!”

Your brows knit together at his outburst, the fire in his eyes growing stronger and bigger.

“Harrington, if you came to yell nonesense at me, just fucking leave!” You roll your eyes and turn away from him, making your way back towards the stairs.

But his scoff stops you.

“Oh, so you keep running away huh!? Didn’t you already get over that!?”

You turn around with nothing but anger boiling inside of you, “running away!? From what!?”

This should have been enough to make him turn around and leave, because clearly nothing changed, clearly this is still just a game to you – but he has hope, and he is desperate enough to throw every bit of his dignity away and risk something.

“Oh, don’t play fucking dumb right now. Acting like that for two weeks and pretending to be stupid is not a good look on you, Blondie.”

You take in a sharp breath, digging your fingers into your towel as you frown at him.

What does he want from you?

Why did he come here?

Was the date so bad, was the sex so awful that he had to come here to torture you?

Without another word, you turn around and you stomp up the stairs, not wanting to see him, not wanting to hear his voice anymore.

Your heart starts pounding in your chest again, and you can’t help but wonder – did he figure you out? Did he figure out your feelings? Is that why he is here? To confront you about them? To reject you?

You feel more and more stupid about what you had wanted to do when you woke up this morning.

Just when your feet carry you up to the second floor, and you rush across the hallway to walk into your room, his footsteps echo behind you, making you more irritated than before. You turn around to face him, but before you can even say anything, Steve is suddenly right in front of you, and his hands reach out to grab your waist, he pushes you against the wall behind you, gently, careful not to hurt you.

The gasp that falls from your lips startles you. His hands that touch the only thing that covers your body leaving your skin on fire. Your heart rate picks up so rapidly that it nearly steals your breath away. You look up into his golden brown orbs, the ones that are nearly black as he steps even closer, invading your space completely, making you breathe in the scent of his cologne, the one that has butterflies swirling in your stomach.

He catches you off guard completely.

You feel so vulnerable, so exposed as you stand there, caged in by his arms, his breath on your skin, his eyes that are filled with so much hunger.

The words die on your tongue, and yet, after you breathe in more of his scent, you open your mouth to speak.

“Shut up, Blondie… Just shut up for a second,” he murmurs, interrupting whatever words you had prepared to lie to him with.

His right hand leaves your waist, inching closer to your stomach as his fingers trace the hem of your towel, drool already forming in his mouth at the sight of you, he is ready to take you, ready to devour you and make you scream his name before he fucks you for only this time.

He notices the way your chest is moving, the way your breathing stutters.

“W-What are you doing, perv?” You stutter as you watch him play with the opening of your towel.

He can’t help but laugh, shaking his head at your insult.

“Perv? Are you going to continue to play fucking dumb?”

“Dumb? You are the dumb one if you think that I’m going to be the one to break into your teasing.”

Steve’s eyes flash with satisfaction.

This is what he wanted – to hear you admit that you were playing that game with him after all and not because you were playing him and stringing him along just to turn him down to gain something from it, whatever it might be. No. You were doing just what he was hoping for, all along.

You want him just as much as he wants you and that’s all he needs to know.

You roll your eyes at him, turning your head as you try to push your way out of his grasp but before you can even step away from him, his hands stop you but not on your waist this time. His large hands cup your cheeks, making you freeze. You stare at him wide eyed when he brings you closer, and you can’t even react before his whole body is suddenly pressed against yours, your heartbeat lurches into your throat.

As though his touch wasn’t shocking enough, his next move almost causes you to collapse, because now it isn’t only his body against yours, his hands on your cheeks or his breath on your skin, now it’s his lips… his lips on yours, his lips moving against yours in desperation as he takes every last of your breath and makes it his own.

You can’t do anything, you can’t move, you can’t breathe, you can’t even blink as you stare at him – how his eyes are closed and his cheeks are flushed, the furrowed brows as he kisses you with a kind of passion no one has ever kissed you with before.

Steve is kissing you.

Steve Harrington is kissing you.

His lips are moving roughly against yours, his hands holding your cheeks so softly, yet with an intensity.

This is all you ever wanted, to feel his touch and his lips on yours but you are too stunned to move, too surprised to kiss him back right now, too distracted wondering if this is real or not.

Along with the shock, you feel the slightest bit of insecurity flooding through you because even though he is kissing you, you can’t help but wonder why. Why isn’t he with Heidi? Why isn’t he kissing her right now? Did she turn him down? Did he come here because he just needed someone? Because he knew that you would fall for this? Or is this just another way for him to tease you?

Those questions prompt you to push him away, forcing him to break the kiss that he was so deeply lost in.

You notice the way he begrudgingly pulls away, the way he seems so drawn to your lips, the way his brows furrow in confusion now, his face is flushed and his pupils dilated as he looks at you with nothing but desperation in his eyes – he isn’t teasing, he wants you, he wants you right now and isn’t that all that matters? That he wants you?

His eyes stare into yours as he is breathing heavily. A flash of rejection takes over his features and by the look in his eyes, you can tell that he is beginning to get lost in his anxious thoughts – thoughts that you quickly shut down by making the move that he just made. You cup his cheeks and you pull him down, closing your eyes as you slam your lips against his for the very first time.

Unlike you, he wastes no second to reciprocate the kiss, a sigh of content leaving him as he presses you back against the wall.

Warmth blooms in your stomach, one that doesn’t stay the same temperature for long because the moment he deepens the kiss, the moment his hands hold you tighter and his knee parts your legs, sliding his thigh in between yours as the kiss gets rougher and rougher, you feel the warmth evolving into a deeper, burning sensation – a fire inside of you that only he can mend.

You can’t believe that this is happening, that something that you had been craving for years is now here.

And Steve, he feels his heart pounding in his chest from the rush, from the adrenaline, from his desperation that grows bigger and stronger when he feels just how much you want him as your lips move roughly with his.

You're hesitant with your touch, but when he grabs your face and pulls you even tighter against his body, his thigh pressing stronger against your core, you can’t help but throw your arms around his neck, digging your fingers into the hair that you’ve always wanted to touch.

You can feel him smirking against your lips when you moan into the kiss, which prompts you to tug at his hair and press your tongue against his bottom lip.

He welcomes it into his mouth so eagerly, his tongue now clashing against yours as his palms slide down to your waist while your hands reach for the front of his shirt, fisting the material tightly as you begin to drag him into your room.

You both know, you both feel where this is going, what this is leading to – what the past few weeks have been leading to.

You want this, you need this, you need him, even if just for tonight.

And you know, you already know that you will be done for, that he will ruin you for anyone else but you couldn’t care less, right now. Especially when he kisses you with so much roughness, everything about this setting all your insides on fire, leaving your skin burning and yet aching for more.

Steve is careful not to step on your bare feet as you lead him backwards into a different room. Excitement bubbles in his stomach and he grows even more breathless than before, he pulls away and breaks the kiss but doesn’t hesitate to latch his lips onto your neck, kissing and biting your flesh, “I fucking hate you, Blondie. I hate that I want you so much.”

Your lashes flutter as you close your eyes, tilting your head to the side as you feel your stomach and your heart fluttering at his touch, at his lips on your skin but especially at his words.

Your knees grow weak and a needy whimper falls from your puffy lips.

All that echoes in your mind now is I want you. I want you. I want you.

You don’t even care about the other things he said to you, you only care about the three little words you have only ever dreamt of before.

You almost fall when you feel the back of your legs hitting your bed, but he keeps you upright, not pushing you down just yet. He keeps nibbling on your neck, kissing, biting, sucking as he breathes heavily against you, growing harder against your stomach.

“Couldn’t even finish the fucking date, couldn’t do anything cause I kept thinking about you, Blondie,” he speaks into your neck, fingers now dangerously close to your bare skin behind the towel.

Your heart nearly explodes at his words and you can’t help but sigh in relief, knowing that nothing happened between him and Heidi. And all because of you.

“You drive me fucking crazy, I want to rip the towel right off–”

“Then do!” You whine, not caring about how eager and desperate you sound, “show me how much you hate me, Stevie.”

He pulls away from your neck after placing another wet kiss to your skin, strands of your hair getting caught in his as he faces you again, with flushed cheeks and almost black eyes he looks at you and takes in the sight of you, the pout on your lips, the flustered look on your face, big eyes that you are begging him with.

He doesn’t even bother to look around the room, just caring about the bed behind you.

He rips the towel off your body, letting it fall to the ground, his hands find your bare waist that he grips tightly as he throws you on the bed, smirking at the gasp that leaves your lips again.

Without hesitating to, he reaches for the hem of his shirt and rips it off.

Just like back then on the boat, when he took his shirt off before he jumped into the water, you stare at his chest, almost drooling at the delicious sight in front of you. His broad shoulders, the scar around his neck that makes him look even hotter, the hairs on his chest, the muscles in his arms that have visibly gotten bigger since high school. You bite your lip as your eyes move down, almost whining when you see the bulge in his tight jeans.

You wish you could run your finger down his chest and his stomach, tracing every little scar that the bats have left behind, but instead, you push yourself up, blushing at the fact that you are completely bare in front of him. You reach for his belt, fingers beginning to fumble with the metal when he stops you with a simple touch and a headshake.

“None of that,” he murmurs as he leans over, his hands digging between your ass and the mattress as he suddenly pulls you to the edge of the bed, dropping to his knees before you, he throws your legs over his shoulder and looks up at you with hooded eyes, “I need to hear you first.”

You nearly combust when you feel his breath on your pussy and his lips on your inner thighs. A whimper falling from your mouth as you try to close your legs out of instinct, blushing even harder than before.

“You’re fucking soaked,” he smirks, holding your thighs open as he teasingly slips a finger through your folds, “all for me, huh?”

You don’t answer but you don’t need to, the loud moan that you let out when he dives right into you with his tongue, gives him everything he needs to know.

He moans in content as he grabs your ass roughly, eyes rolling back when he tastes you for the first time, he almost starts drooling over you, finding pleasure in this.

He teasingly licks a stripe up from your entrance to your clit, circling the tip of his tongue around your already aching nub as he uses his fingers to part your lips.

You scrunch up your face as his tongue pleases you in ways your fingers never could, sighs and whimpers start escaping you as he now presses his thumb against your clit and he starts eating you out, his moans vibrating against you.

Your mouth falls open as your back arches in pleasure, fingers digging into the sheets beneath you as you fall apart completely.

No words are spoken as you both just enjoy this moment of bliss, him getting lost in you, you getting lost in the pleasure he blesses you with.

You focus on everything and also on nothing – his whimpers send shivers through you, his tongue that he fucks you with making you gasp and drool, and despite the heaviness in your eyes, you manage to open them, wanting, needing to see him.

He eats you out slowly, yet desperately, fingers and tongue now working together to unravel you. His eyes are closed and he keeps moaning and whimpering as saliva runs down his chin. He looks so content, so pleased from only this.

Steve curls his fingers inside of you as he keeps his thumb on your clit, rubbing circles on it.

Tears of pleasure prickle in your eyes as needy sounds keep escaping you. You hold the sheets even tighter now, closing your legs around his head, caging him in between them.

Steve finally opens his eyes, they darken even more now when he sees how you are falling apart for him, it only prompts him to fuck you even harder with his tongue and his two fingers.

Your moans and whimpers are enough to drive him crazy, enough to make the erection in his pants feel painful but he wants more, he needs to hear his name falling from your lips and he gets what he wants only seconds later when your body grows tense and your back arches again as a tear rolls down your cheek.

“Steve!” You nearly scream as you come undone, writhing beneath his touch.

You tilt your head to the side, bringing your hand up to your face, you bite your teeth into your knuckles as hot tears run down your flushed cheeks.

Steve laps at your pussy, moans still falling from his mouth. Only as you whimper weakly does he pull away from you, but not without giving your clit another teasing lick, causing you to spasm which only makes him chuckle darkly.

He carefully removes your legs from his shoulders and lets go of you before he rises back to his full height.

You instantly press your legs together, breathing heavily as you try to calm down from the orgasm he just gave you.

What Steve didn’t do before was take in the sight of your bare body, and now as he does it, he has to swallow harshly, his dick twitching in his jeans, begging for release. He finds himself aching for you, even more than before, he not only wants you, he needs you in ways he can’t even describe.

He watches the way your chest glistens with sweat, your nipples hard from the pleasure that curses through your body, your eyes are shut, your brows pulled together. He licks his lips before he bites down as his eyes trace every inch of your skin, the scars that make you look even more attractive.

It takes everything in him not to drop to his knees and taste you once again.

He needs you, he needs to feel you wrapped around his dick, he needs to hear your moans as he fills you to the brim, he needs to fuck you.

Steve unbuckles his belt, the metal clinking against each other, causing you to open your eyes at the sound.

You look at him through your glassy eyes, pushing yourself up on your elbows as you watch him unbutton his pants but before he pushes them down, he reaches for his wallet in his back pocket and you watch him curiously.

He opens it to take out the condom he had prepared for a different… less exciting occasion. He hastily pushes his pants and boxers down, his dick slaps against his stomach and he fails to notice the way your eyes widen or the way your lips part in surprise at the sight, at the size of him. He steps out of his shoes, cursing under his breath as he pushes them aside before he uses both hands to part your legs, getting on the mattress.

Before he rips the foil apart, he looks into your eyes, wanting your consent first but no words have to leave his mouth because you are the first to make the move, you sit up slightly, taking the tiny foil pack from his fingers, surprising him by bringing it up to your lips and ripping it open with your teeth.

Despite the streaks of tears on your skin, the fucked out look in your eyes, the shakiness in your body, you look at him so dangerously.

And he can’t do anything but watch you in awe for a moment, how you wrap your much smaller hand around his dick, pressing your thumb against his slit to tease him.

“O-Oh fuck…” He shudders, eyes nearly closing at only that.

You bite your bottom lip, trying not to drool as you roll the condom over his length. You look up at him again to find him staring at you with flushed cheeks and lust in his eyes. It’s dark in the room, but you can see each other just well enough, the moon shines brightly into your room tonight.

You can’t even help yourself when you cup his cheeks and pull him down for a kiss, closing your eyes when your lips meet again.

He grabs your waist, making you crawl back until you’re far enough on the mattress for your head to hit the pillows when he pushes you down. He presses his hands on your knees and you part your legs eagerly for him.

His fingers trace your skin as he brings his hand up, passing your hip bone and your waist and grabbing your boob with roughness as he slips his tongue into your mouth, wanting you to taste yourself. He pinches your nipple with his fingers, smirking against you when you whine and writhe underneath him.

You reach your hand down, not wanting to waste any more seconds, you wrap your hand around his dick again, jerking him off a few times before you line him up with your entrance, whining desperately again.

Steve breaks the kiss and opens his eyes to look at you, “you’re so desperate for my cock, huh?” He breathes, still playing with your nipple.

You raise yourself up a little, pecking his lips again as you nod your head.

He can’t believe that you are this needy for him, that you are giving him those eyes.

If only he knew how many times you have dreamt of this moment.

“Please,” you whimper.

“Please what, Blondie?” He teases you as his hand now slides down your stomach, fingertips brushing your clit, making you shiver.

You blink and you breathe heavily as you place your hand on his shoulder, “please fuck me, Steve… Please…”

A satisfied smirk appears on his face, your desperation making him feel smug – but the smugness quickly dissolves into something else when he pushes inside you and feels your tightness around him for the very first time.

You breathe in harshly and hold it, shutting your eyes when you feel him stretching you out. Nothing could have prepared you for this moment, not his tongue, not his fingers, nothing. The stretch is both painful and delicious, it makes you gasp but it also makes you drool as he inches deeper and deeper.

Steve can only curse and whimper in pleasure as he watches his cock disappearing inside of you, he doesn’t push in fully though, too scared to hurt you.

He bites his bottom lip, bottoming out again before he pushes back in, listening to the wet sound and the neediness in your voice as you moan.

“M-More,” you whine, your eyes now watching him, “please…”

His dick twitches at the sound of that and at the look on your face.

“Fuck me, Steve.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, he pushes in deeper than before, until he’s buried inside of you completely. Usually, he would take a moment to catch his breathe, to adjust to the tightness but he is too eager, too desperate for this. So he grabs your hips and he starts thrusting, slowly at first, not wanting to hurt you.

You gasp, hands finding the sheets beneath you again as your eyes follow the movement of his hips, watching the way his dick slides in and out of you. You throw your head back and look at his face next.

Strands of his hair fall in front of his eyes, his lips are puffy from all the kissing, his cheeks are flushed. He is moaning, for you, because of you. You are in utter bliss, feeling pride swell in your chest when he moans even louder as you clench around him.

He watches the way he fucks you, eyes growing darker and darker and then, he looks at your chest, the way your tits bounce from the movements, something that prompts him to move his hips even faster, fucking into you harder now.

“F-Fuck,” you whine loudly.

His eyes meet your face and the pleasure on it is suddenly not enough for him, he wants to throw you over the edge, he needs to hear you scream for him.

He curses under his breath when you clench around him again.

Steve’s knees dig into the mattress, his fingers now holding you even stronger than before, he is sure to leave bruises but you don’t mind, you would never mind. He fastens his pace, railing into you and thrusting in and out of you, making you fall apart in the matter of a few seconds. You can’t speak, even if you tried. All that you can do is moan pathetically, letting him use you.

“You take me so well, holy shit, Blondie,” he whimpers, voicing out his thoughts, brows scrunching together as he watches you, your lips parted, moans that he only ever dreamt of leaving you. “L-Look at you, fuck. If I knew that my cock would shut you up, I would’ve done this a long time ago.”

“S-Steve!” You whine with a high pitched voice, something that only leads him to pound you even harder even if a tiny part of him wants to mock you.

Your eyes roll back, the tension in your stomach rolling back in, only stronger and hotter this time, and you already don’t know what to do with yourself, but when he suddenly reaches for your legs, hooking the back of your knees around his forearms, your eyes widen when they meet his again and a wicked smirk appears on his face as he starts fucking you from a different angle, snapping his hips into yours so wildly that you can’t help but cry out as your eyelids become droopy, tears now begging to be released, just like the drool that starts coming from the corner of your mouth.

The room now filled with nothing but the dirty sounds of your skin slapping together, the squelching noises from your pussy and his pleasing moans.

Steve watches you in awe, eyes growing wide when he sees just how cockdrunk you are for him.

He fucks you recklessly, eagerly and as though it is the last thing he will ever do.

Your tears fall freely, your whimpers turning into cries the moment his thumb finds your clit again.

He feels your walls clenching around him, gripping his twitching cock tightly – and he knows you’re close, he knows that he is close but he doesn’t want to stop, he doesn’t want this moment to be over.

Steve savors every second, pounding into you roughly and harshly, grabbing your face with his left hand when your head falls to the side, he needs to watch you, he needs to see you when you cum around him.

“You wanna cum for me?” He asks breathlessly.

You nod eagerly, without letting a word fall from your lips, you only nod and whine.

You feel the overstimulation rushing through you, the fire in your stomach that is about to burst into something bigger. You can feel him everywhere, he is so deep inside of you that it makes your body shake like crazy, but it feels good, so good that it almost wants to make you cry for different reasons when you think about how this could be a one time thing.

His hand leaves your face, he throws his palm into the pillow next to you, holding it tightly as his own eyes fall shut now, moaning your name as he picks up the pace of his fingers against your clit, his hips snapping faster into yours now.

“I-I’m–”

“I know, I know…” He coos, letting his face fall into the crook of your neck.

You feel the urge to feel him even closer, so despite the weakness in your body, you use every bit of your strength to lift your hand and press it against his warm back.

“Cum for me,” he whimpers into your neck before he bites into your flesh, marking you up for anyone to see.

A loud gasp tears out of you as his last thrusts grow rougher and his fingers move faster, you can’t help but dig your nails into his back, scratching him as stars blur your vision and the shockwaves grip your body so tightly as you cum around his cock, just as he spills into the condom, moaning into your neck.

You can’t even feel your tears nor the drool still coming out of your mouth, all that you can feel is him. Your arm now falls back onto the mattress and your eyes shutting as the darkness starts to envelope you.

“F-Fuck,” he whispers as he stops moving, pressing another kiss to your neck before he pulls out of you, hissing at the feeling.

He can feel your trembling body beneath his, the sighs that keep falling from your lips, he smugly pulls away to take a look at you, only to see your eyes dropping as you start to lose your consciousness.

“Shit,” he whispers, cupping your cheeks, “you okay, Blondie?”

You nod as best as you can, slapping his hand away as you snuggle into the pillows, not even bothering with the blanket.

He scratches the back of his neck, pressing his lips together as he watches you fall asleep so quickly. He can’t help but feel smug as he looks at the way your thighs are trembling still.

He stands up, leaving the room to walk into the bathroom, where the light is still turned on. He steps inside, noticing how the mirror is a little fogged, the smell of vanilla and strawberries lingering in the air, making his stomach flutter ever so slightly.

Discarded clothes lay on the ground, he picks them up and puts them on the counter before he rolls off the condom, tying it up before he throws it into the trash. He turns towards the sink and washes his hands before he walks back into your room, a smile tugging on his lips.

He plops down beside you, pulling the cover over you and himself, scooting closer to you.

He doesn’t know where this will go or what is going to happen tomorrow but as he looks at your stained face, and every single previous second replays in his head, he is sure of one thing.

There is not a single fucking chance that this is going to be a one time thing.

♡

tagging friends and mutuals!

@prettyboyeddiemunson @taintedcigs @mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @maroon-cardigan @munson-mjstan @sherrylyn628 @munsonlore @ibellcipem @joekeerysmoles

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington smut #steve harrington enemies to lovers #stranger things angst

719 notes · View notes

beauspot · 9 months

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Good Omens Is a Big Deal

With everything going on I haven’t acknowledged how grateful I am for what Neil (and John) did this season. I always saw Good Omens as a romantic story and everyone involved seemed to be super supportive of that. To actually see a follow through on those themes was wonderful though. To see Aziraphale continue to look at Crowley like he’s the earth, the moon, and the stars. To see Crowley continue to save his angel not because he needs them to, but because they love him.

To see them have their dinners, and give the other access to their prized possessions. To see them dance. They love each other. They are in love with each other and it’s not implied or a throwaway line that can be edited out.

It’s the beating heart at the center of the story.

And they weren’t meant to be. Neil himself will tell you when he and Terry wrote the book Aziraphale and Crowley were meant to be friends and that’s it. Over time their relationship evolved and where a lot of writers would simply ignore that and keep pushing forward Neil pivoted and said “you know what? let’s see where this goes.” The last time I can remember something like this happening was with Hannibal years ago, it’s so rare with queer pairings.

I know everyone was excited about the kiss and it is refreshing to see queer people actually get to kiss, it’s still not something that happens all the time, but that’s not what made them canonically queer to me. If they remained completely asexual and never kissed or showed interest in kissing one another I’d feel the same. While I always felt they were queer what sealed it for me were 3 things:

1. Nina and Maggie, a romantic pairing that parallel our angel and demon break down to Crowley how she and Aziraphale are partners (and it’s clear they don’t mean business partners, does Crowley look like he runs a bookshop?) but they never say what they’re really thinking. They go on to state how that’s all they needed, the obvious implication here being that Nina and Maggie shared their romantic feelings with one another and that Crowley and Aziraphale need to do the same. Upon hearing this Crowley takes that as a sign to confess his feelings.

2. Gabriel and Beelzebub, another pairing that parallels Crowley and Aziraphale who are also clearly in love with one another is something Crowley references while he is confessing his feelings. “If those two lovestruck idiots can go off together, so can we. Because I love you.”

3. Crowley and Aziraphale express plainly to each other that they need the other. Crowley says to Aziraphale he wants to stop pretending they aren’t a team, a group, a them.

Aziraphale says verbatim “We can be together.” and “I need you.” He doesn’t say “We can work together” or “I need you to help me” or some other cop out that a lot of other shows or movies might come up with to continue to bait their fans, while having plausible deniability.

They love each other and it’s not platonic.

To me, the kiss serves as a way to seal the deal for people who only understand queer love when it’s punching them in the face. That’s not to say queer people can’t like the kiss, it’s one of my favorite scenes in the show simply because of how heartbreaking it is, but they were a couple to me long before that. And to add onto that by making every other important pairing in the show queer as well? Nina and Maggie being happy sapphics who don’t die at the end. They’re not together, but the implication is that one day they will be. Two non-binary beings—Gabriel and Beelzebub—falling in love and choosing to be with one another forever. The angels and demons are all genderless and no one misgenders them and no one gives a FUCK.

That means so much to me and I genuinely cannot express how thankful I am that this show and this season were made. The only thing I can say is thank you for standing for something, because not everyone does.

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slut4thebroken · 3 months

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Until Next Time

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Neil Lewis x reader

Summary | The second time Neil sees the stranger, he gets a little bolder.

Warnings | Smut, non con, 18+, sexual content, non consensual everything lol, Neil being a creep once again, in public, groping, grinding, thigh fucking, kissing, blackmail, pervy needy Neil.

Words | 2.4 k

Notes | And yes you horny bastards, there will be a part 3 🙄

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Part 1

Every single time he took the subway he was constantly looking around, seeing if you were there. After a couple weeks he started losing hope. He still jerked off to the pictures he took of you, but he accepted that he wasn’t going to see you again.

That was one week ago.

He was standing in the subway car looking at his phone when he heard it. “Sorry about that.” He would recognize your sweet voice anywhere. His head snapped up and he looked around until he found you.

You looked even prettier than he remembered. Your makeup was still subtle, but this time for the day rather than for a club or wherever it was you went, and your hair looked just as soft as last time. He couldn’t see past your neck though.

He started subtly moving toward you, trying not to draw attention or make it look like he was walking closer. When the doors opened and people were going in and out, he walked quickly, blending in with the movement. You stepped back to give people more room and he was almost behind you now. He could see that you were wearing a tank top— which makes sense given that it’s the middle of summer. But he couldn’t see anything else yet.

His cock was already fattening up in his pants just staring at you. He waited a tortuously long time for the doors to open again, then he was moving quickly until he was behind you. He saw now that you were wearing a skirt. A pleated one that was just the right length to make you look unintentionally slutty. You were shorter than him now that you weren’t in heels and he stepped a little closer to get a view of your tits again. Were you even wearing a bra? If you were, it must've been strapless.

He ignored the painful tightness of his pants and focused on you. Were you wearing shorts this time? He prayed the answer was no. Pushing down his nerves, he tentatively raised his hand to lightly grab your hip, making you turn around. Before you could say anything he was shushing you.

“Before you yell, I want to show you something.” He said quietly, releasing your hip to grab his phone. You seemed to recognize him now, especially when he pulled up a picture and showed it to you. “These have been really useful personally… but I’m sure a lot of other men would love to see it. I’d hate for them to get spread around…” You stood there frozen, staring at the picture of your panties. “I hope you don’t have an important job… This kind of thing will set you off on a completely different path.” He frowned mockingly.

“M-my face isn’t even in it… There’s no way to know that’s me.”

“Yeah but employers don’t really care about technicalities. One accusation and you’re done.” He shrugged. “So,” he pocketed his phone and placed his hand back on your hip, “are you gonna yell? Or are you gonna be a good little girl and not fuck up your reputation?” He waited for you to respond, but you just stared at him with teary eyes, silently begging him not to. “Smart choice. Turn around.” He said quietly.

Once you obeyed, he placed both hands on your hips and slid them up to your waist, then back down. He stood closer so he could look down at your tits, hearing your breath hitch when his bulge brushed your ass.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered. “I’ve thought about you every day since then.” You tried to step forward but he just pulled you back, keeping you planted firmly in front of him. One of his hands slid down to grope your ass and it was better than he could’ve imagined.

“I’ve thought about coming on this ass again every single fucking day.” He groaned, placing a kiss on the back of your neck. When he suddenly turned you around, you gasped and placed your hands on his chest to steady yourself. He snaked his hands up your waist, then up even more until he was groping your tits over the tank top. He bit back a moan once he realized that you weren’t wearing a bra.

“Jesus Christ.” He murmured, massaging them in his hands.

“S-stop… Someone will see.” You whispered, trying to push him back by his chest.

“Someone will see if you draw attention to us. Stay nice and quiet and we’ll be fine, baby.” He looked around behind you and when he was sure no one was watching, he brought his hands down to your thighs and slipped them under your skirt. You gasped when he roughly cupped your ass and pulled you closer.

With his bulge pressed to your pelvis, he groaned quietly and started rubbing it against you. Under his hands, he could feel the lacy panties you were wearing and he ached to find out what they looked like, but he had to be patient.

His back was only inches away from the wall and everyone in front of you was facing away, toward the doors. It was practically perfect. Keeping one hand on your ass to hold you still, he moved the other one up to grope your tits again. He was focused on your nipples just barely poking through the fabric, but when he heard a low whimper, his eyes snapped up to your face. There were still tears in your eyes, but your cheeks were flushed and you were biting your bottom lip, holding in any sounds.

“I fucking knew you wanted this. You’re probably already wet too, huh?” He chuckled quietly and you shook your head with a quiet whine. “No?” He cooed mockingly, tilting his head like a confused puppy. “I think you’re lying to me.”

“I- I’m not,” you started, but cut off with a gasp when he suddenly pulled your tank top down, exposing your tits. “Wait-” You whispered, panicking.

“If you make a scene, you’ll draw attention. So go ahead, baby. Make a scene.” He dared and you looked around nervously, trying to see if anyone had noticed what was happening. When you finished examining everyone, you closed your eyes and a tear rolled down your cheek, making his cock throb in his pants. He cursed under his breath and tightened his grip on your ass, then started rubbing up against you even harder. With your tits now out, he used his free hand to grope them, roughly pinching and pulling on your nipples, making you hiss in pain. Once he was satisfied with touching them, he grabbed his phone again.

“Wait,” You tried to stop him, but he gave you a warning glare and grabbed your ass hard enough to force a whimper out of you. So you shut your mouth and let your arms hang limply by your sides. He took a few pictures, then lifted the front of your skirt to take a few more, this time getting your tits and panties in frame. Before putting his phone away, he righted your clothes, then turned you around and lifted your skirt, getting more pictures of your ass that was barely covered by the slutty lace panties you were wearing.

“Take them off.” He ordered, pocketing his phone again and turning you back around to face him.

“What?” You choked out.

“Take off your fucking underwear. Now.” When you heard his tone, you used shaky hands to slowly push them down your legs, then step out of them. You placed them in his open palm and he immediately lifted them up to his face and inhaled deeply. “Fuck.” He hissed and you let out an embarrassed whine. “God you smell fucking incredible.” He groaned quietly, already getting excited at just the thought of being able to smell your cunt when he jerks off at home.

Unable to take it anymore, he stuffed your underwear in his pocket, pulled your tank top back down to expose your tits, then grabbed your ass under your skirt and continued grinding his bulge against you. His movements were desperate and far too obvious for their current setting, but he didn’t care. All he could focus on was how soft your ass was, how pretty and perfect your tits were, and how beautiful you looked trying to hold back tears from his assault.

“You drive me fucking crazy.” He whispered with a small smile. Suddenly leaning forward, he kissed across your neck, making you whimper quietly. He bit and licked, but mostly focused on sucking the skin into his mouth, leaving as many marks as possible. He wanted everyone to see how much of a pathetic slut you are for him— for a stranger. As the intoxicating smell of your perfume invaded his senses, he groaned and his kisses got sloppier.

Anyone who looked back would just see a couple being slightly perverted in public, with him grabbing your ass and kissing your neck. But they wouldn’t know that you were bare under your skirt, letting him mark you and claim you as he got himself off with your body. They wouldn’t be able to see the way your tits were out, your hard nipples pressing against his chest. And they wouldn’t be able to see the way you were crying silently.

When he pulled away from your neck, he kept his face only inches from yours, feeling your breath fanning his lips. Unable to hold back, he moved one hand to fist your hair and hold your still as he surged forward, pressing his lips to yours in a bruising kiss. You whimpered and tried to push him back, but he was unmoving. Wanting to deepen it, he forced his tongue in your mouth, licking into the kiss, making you whine and try even harder to pull back. He couldn’t really decipher the taste of your mouth but it was something sweet. After another moment, he pulled back, a trail of saliva connecting your lips.

“Fuck, baby.” He rasped, voice thick with arousal. His orgasm was nearing quickly and he looked around once more, then released you to open his pants and free his cock, making you stiffen.

“W-wait,” Your breathing grew shallow as your eyes widened. He shushed you and grabbed your ass again, pulling you closer until his cock was between your thighs, pressed up against your heat.

“Kiss my neck, baby. C’mon.” He all but whined, desperately bucking his hips and fucking your thighs. “You know what I’ll do if you don’t.” He said through a breath, making you stiffen, but lean forward. He held his breath until your lips pressed against his neck. “Oh my god.” He whimpered. “Leave some marks.” He practically begged.

Reluctantly, you sucked and licked and kissed and bit all over his neck. Leaving a few marks and making him even needier. Through heavy lidded eyes, he looked around the crowded subway car, finding everyone still either facing away from them, or focused on something. This was so fucking perfect.

“Good girl. Keep going… Put your hands in my hair.” With a silent sob, you lifted your hands and gently grabbed his hair. “God— you’re gonna make me come.” He said through a breathy laugh. “Squeeze your thighs together.” You obeyed and he had to bite down on your shoulder to stifle a moan.

His hips started bucking more frantically now. If anyone looked over, it wouldn’t take them long to figure out that something inappropriate was going on. But he was so fucking horny and drunk on you that he didn’t even care. He wouldn’t care if every single person turned around and started watching. They wouldn’t see your tits or feel your ass like he could, they couldn’t feel your lips or the softness of your thighs. So he didn’t give two shits if people wanted a free show. It didn’t change the fact that you were his.

“You’re so good at this.” He whined, enjoying the feeling of your lips on his neck and your body against his. He was able to smell your perfume and your hair so clearly and it was making his brain practically go blank.

When the subway stopped, he paused and held you close to make sure no one could see your tits. He waited until the subway started moving again before continuing, listening to the automated voice call out the next stop— his stop. Tightening his grip on your ass, he started rutting his hips faster as he chased his orgasm. You continued kissing over his neck and lightly pulling on his hair, getting him so worked up that his dick almost hurt with how hard it was.

“Don’t stop… don’t stop, baby.” He whispered breathily, moving one hand from your ass to squeeze and grope your tits. You whined quietly and it was like everything inside him just snapped. He bit down on your shoulder and pulled his hips back to jerk himself off quickly until he finally fell over the edge. Each rope of come that shot out his cock landed between your legs, covering your cunt in his seed— marking you. He grunted quietly as he panted, riding it out and savoring it as much as possible. When his orgasm finally faded, he tucked himself back in his pants, then pulled back to look at you with a smile.

“You’re such a good girl.” He chuckled, taking out his phone. “Lift your skirt for me.” You let out a silent sob, but took the bottom of it in your shaky hands and slowly pulled it up. He took a few close up pictures of your pussy and some wider shots when his come started dripping down your thighs, then pulled back even more to get your tits in it too. “Smile.” He chuckled, getting once of just your face and your tits. That’ll probably be the one he uses the most. He put his phone away and bit his lip as he stared at you, reaching out to feel your tits one last time.

“Goddamn…” He muttered to himself. The subway slowing down snapped him out of the trance he was in. “This is my stop. Thanks again.” He smiled, moving his gaze up to look into your glossy eyes. “Until next time.” The way he said it was as if you both had your own inside joke now. You didn’t respond as you fixed your tank top and wiped the tears and mascara tracks from under your eyes, but he wasn’t exactly expecting you to. When the subway finally stopped and the doors opened, he walked out, already imagining what would happen the next time he saw you.

Part 3

Taglist (join here)

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#neil lewis smut #neil lewis x reader #neil lewis #watching the detectives #cillian murphy

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santacoppelia · 8 months

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The HUGE analysis - This season starts and ends with a discussion, doesn't it?

Ok, my loves. This was one of the really long metas I've been working with, and probably the one that has taken me the longest (because it depended a lot on rewatching the season time and again).

I couldn't help to notice that the fist interaction Aziraphale and Crowley have in season 2 is a fight, really. Yeah, we have the beautiful “in the beginning” sequence, with both of them being angels and happy and all the such (oh, how lovely, Neil Gaiman planting the seeds of why it will matter to us that Aziraphale will not be fighting the idea of inviting Crowley to Heaven, because he remembers that happy, careless guy). But after the intro, we see them having a big disagreement… And we end the season in the biggest disagreement they have had, probably, in 6,000 years.

I love over-analyzing and dissecting narratives and characters, and more so if I can use only what we’ve been shown in the screen. Therefore, I believe that the first fight of the season tells us a lot of the things we will need to know to understand the final fight of the season between them. Let’s take a look, shall we?

The first fight is motivated by having an amnesiac Gabriel in the bookshop.

They see the same circumstance: Gabriel in the bookshop means trouble with Heaven. He is also an individual risk, because he has menaced Aziraphale directly (well, Crowley under the visage of Aziraphale).

It affects each of them differently: even when they both panic, Aziraphale feels compelled to be kind to Gabriel (gives him a blanket and hot cocoa) while Crowley has a full-on panic induced reaction and gets defensive.

They propose opposite solutions: Azi wants to do the Good thing, taking the “higher road” (help Gabriel), while Crowley wants to do His Own thing: “Protect the precious, peaceful, fragile existence I have carved for myself”

At that moment, Aziraphale corrects him and marks a “we”, which is very interesting. But immediately after that, Aziraphale gets all "my way or the highway".

Crowley asks for clarification, with a well-leveled tone of voice: “Is this how it is going to go?”

Azi clarifies "no, I want you to help me!" But then he does the passive-aggressive thing: "if you won't, you won't". (oh, Aziraphale, how you triggered me here, my dear chap. I was angry at the character the first 6 times I saw this)

Therefore, Crowley is out. He marks a clear limit: “I won't. You are on your own”, and then storms out. No Eccles cakes would help him: he needs a breather and counting to 10. That doesn't help either.

Crowley only comes back after gaining an extra perspective: the "extreme sanctions" talk with Beelzebub.

When he comes back, Aziraphale will stand his ground: he feels he deserves an apology, which is delivered via a “I was wrong, you were right” literal admission (even when he probably wasn't "right", but that's their way... And they've been doing it since 1650, or so they say). Then they are able to work together again.

Now, let��s see how this dynamic plays out in their last discussion of the season:

They come from different sides of the same experience: Crowley went to Heaven to investigate and learned about the plans to continue with the end of the world, while Aziraphale stayed defending the bookshop. Then Crowley saves the humans, while Aziraphale solved the Beelzebub + Gabriel affair.

They haven’t had time to talk, as they get interrupted by The Metatron. While he takes Aziraphale, Crowley receives a visit from Maggie and Nina.

Each one of them gained an extra different perspective: Azi, the Metatron proposal (and veiled menace); Crowley, the pep talk/scolding from the couple they were trying to get together.

This makes them develop different solutions:

Crowley wants to finally admit what Azi has been saying all the season: they are a "we" (Azi said so when Crowley talked about his “precious, peaceful, fragile existence”; he said it again when talking about “our car” and reinforced it with the bookshop)

Azi wants to take the "higher road": go to Heaven, reinstate Crowley as an angel, so they can still work together.

Crowley sees the “usual dynamic” of their disagreements coming: it will be Azi’s way (or the highway). That has happened before, in front of our eyes, and not only in this season: it happened also in season 1, but we have already attested that it is still happening, and it is even “worse” (Aziraphale being a little “petty” with the “if you do, it is fine, but if you won’t, you are on your own” in the Gabriel discussion).

Crowley gets indignant. He asks, tentatively, if he told him where to stick it… And then he reinforces his belief. We are better than that, YOU are better than that, you don’t need them, I don’t need them; then he makes the first mention of the offer of getting back to Hell (which he hadn’t shared with Aziraphale), and makes a new point: I said no, neither should you!

Aziraphale goes back to the “you are the bad guys!” thing. Heaven being the side of Truth, of Light, of Good… It is not the propaganda Crowley needed for this move.

Crowley then clarifies the fallacy in his logic: when Heaven ends life on Earth, it’ll be just as dead as if Hell ended it.

Aziraphale then sees the "undesirable result" coming: Crowley is not going to accept, not with that argument.

Crowley makes his plead grow in urgency: Tell me you said no.

Aziraphale’s pitch of voice goes high (usually used as a sign of distress): “If I’m in charge, I can make a difference.”

Crowley understands. This is his “my way or the highway” moment. That’s why he comes up with the courage to make his half-proposal-half admission.

Crowley never gets to state out loud the “I want us to be together in a formal way” part. His voice breaks before he does so. He mentions all of the reasons they have to stay together, which Aziraphale already knows: we have been together for a long time, we’ve been a group (“our own side” was the way he always said it before) and we’ve spent our existence pretending that we aren’t (Azi also knows that! He has been working hard into making Crowley notice it!)

You can see, when they shoot Aziraphale’s face, he squints a little during that moment: maybe questioning, a little disbelief? As usual with Michael Sheen, it is a blink it and you’ll miss it moment.

After the grunt, Crowley proposes his alternative solution: going off together, using Beelzebub & Gabriel as an example that they could.

Therefore, what Aziraphale has just listened is what he already knew: yes, they are a “we”. Crowley wants to run away (he had proposed it twice during the Armageddidn’t, another pattern they have already established).

The next step is the usual way for Aziraphale: he reinforces his proposal: come with me, to Heaven. Ill’ run it, you can be my second in command. This idea has rubbed me wrong since the first time I watched this scene. Why remark the hierarchy? (not to say that I’m in Crowley’s side in here, but… It was weird and uncomfortable to think of them in a vertical power structure; they have always been equals).

Then, he goes back to making a difference, only it is “we” this time. Crowley is noticing he won’t back down… But Aziraphale usually doesn’t.

“You can’t leave this bookshop” works as a representation, a figure of speech. “This Bookshop” is “This life we have been building”, and they both understand it as such.

“Oh, Crowley… Nothing lasts forever…” For Aziraphale, it means he can leave this for something greater. For Crowley, it means… Actually, the same. But without him. Because he knows the “my way or the highway” side of Aziraphale, and none of them will budge. Aaaaand… that’s Crowley heart breaking. The rest of the scene happens with Crowley in “breakup mode”.

Aziraphale is used to “the discussion dance”. He Insists, “Crowley! Come back, to Heaven, work with me! We can be together, Angels! Doing good!”. He promises all he can: “come back, work with me, we can be together”, which have always been Crowley’s triggers to change his mind. However, the problem lies within the “angels doing good”. That’s the part that Aziraphale would need to let go before getting back to Crowley.

And then, he breaks down: “I need you!!” That has always worked! Aziraphale knows that Crowley loves being needed, he won’t leave his angel when in need, right?

And then, he gets angry. And he questions if Crowley has understood what he is offering, which transforms in an “I don’t think your exactly and my exactly are the same exactly” all over again.

Crowley is already brokenhearted, so he answers truthfully, as far as he knows. He understands how terrible the offer of going back to heaven is for both of them, and is not aware of the veiled threat in Metatron’s offer. He knows that going back to Heaven is a non-negotiable boundary, and Aziraphale is absolutely determined to cross it.

Aziraphale, then, does his passive-aggressive shit again: “I guess there is nothing more to say”. My guy, my love, you need to become better at negotiating with your loved one.

This is where Crowley decides to show, don’t tell, the hurt: no nightingales. And then… The “You idiot. We could have been… us” (no, you couldn’t, it was always too late!!! First the pandemic, which I’ve decided to treat as canon, then Gabriel. They never stood a chance).

In this context, Crowley’s kiss is a desperate way to say good-bye to the person he cared most for the last 6,000 years; also an angry way to regain some semblance of control and affect Aziraphale; and a final way to get some “closure”. Is there desire? Is there love? Maybe. But they are lost in a cocktail of emotions that have been stated during the rest of the discussion.

The angry “I forgive you”, which is also a usual dynamic for Aziraphale when he is angry with Crowley, gets there too late for Crowley to react to. He has already “checked out”. That’s why the “don’t bother” feels almost like an afterthought and comes after a small sigh.

After watching this 16 times, I’m pretty confident that the first thing Aziraphale mouths is a “no…” and then… he sobs a little. Michael Sheen, you’re a beautiful actor. The rest of it is a masterclass in using microexpressions to convey a whirlwind of emotions in under 2 minutes.

Sooooo... Did I hurt my own emotions while writing this? Yes. Did I absolutely need to do so? Also yes. Even when I like doing intertextual readings (and that's why I like bringing some theology to some of my musings), reading what is in "the text" (in the scenes we have watched, in the dialogues we've been shown) gives me an enormous amount of pleasure, and I find a lot of comfort in believing that most of the things that I'll need to understand and enjoy a great piece of media are being given to me inside it. And I believe Good Omens is a great piece of media!!

I have no Shakespeare to offer you this time. Let me know what you think!!

#good omens 2 #good omens meta #good omens spoilers #ineffable divorce #the final fifteen #narrative analysis #character analysis #good omens #anthony j crowley #aziraphale #If I was into Academia this should be counted as a journal referenced publication #Making my Comms Sci degree useful for something

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fellthemarvelous · 5 months

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Staged and Good Omens: The discontinuity of a story within a story within a story.

I'm watching the third season of Staged again right now, and I think I've figured something out.

The discontinuity that people are talking about of Good Omens 2.

Staged 3 was a very modern version of A Christmas Carol. Ep 1. Is there a version? (David and Michael work with Simon again) Ep 2. Who's Playing Who? (Scrooge, episode was a farce) Ep 3. Past (Michael and David are co-dependent af) Ep 4. Present (Michael and David fail to write a script) Ep 5. Future (David tells everyone they are doing a live show) Ep 6. Knock, Knock (Simon gets even, ending is sad but not really because they are just taking a break and breaks don't last forever, and Simon gets a job offer based on his script for Knock, Knock, the one story he didn't write.)

The epic trainwreck that is David and Michael's live version of A Christmas Carol is actually a hit, but everyone else has to convince them to stop the show because it can't go on forever. So they end it with Michael and David agreeing to take a break from working together even though it makes both of them sad.

But the whole premise of Staged was that everything was filmed on iPads, computers and cell phones. And it was submitted to Simon so he could piece it together.

Simon Evans wrote Staged as a love story between David and Michael. Simon writes what he sees and finds ways to incorporate fiction into reality. He saw them on Good Omens together and he saw the chemistry between David and Michael, and he turned it into a comedy about these two eccentric actors who clearly love each other. And they agreed to star in it.

They improvised most of it, but Simon laid out the framework of the plot for them to follow, and then he let them be themselves.

The entire show has layers upon layers of meta weaved into it.

Anyway, my point is...

This post is one of several that covers the different ways discontinuity seems to occur during Good Omens 2. The evidence is very compelling.

I'm not here to point all that out because I don't have the strength of some of the meta writers in this fandom, and they're already on top of it, but if we look to Staged as an example, what is the plotline that Good Omens 2 is following?

Good Omens 2 is a modern version of.... Ep 1. The Arrival Ep 2. The Clue (A Companion to Owls) Ep 3. I Know Where I'm Going (The Resurrectionists) Ep 4. The Hitchhiker (Nazi Zombie Flesheaters) Ep 5. The Ball Ep 6. Every Day

What are the stories happening around Aziraphale and Crowley? They're the focal point of season two, but what else is happening?

Neil Gaiman has said that everything means something. They aren't just showing us these things by accident. There is a story happening outside of Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship. And we are all looking closely for that person doing a very odd thing just out of sight or objects being moved around without knowing how they got there in the first place.

There was literally an entire scene in Staged where they are trying to figure out who is playing Scrooge and Simon is so anxious that he keeps moving his plant between two different spots in the room. It also ends up with Georgia accidentally planning her own birthday party because David is in Tokyo. But then they cut at one point and you learn David was actually in his bedroom and not a hotel room in Japan and Georgia didn't really just plan her own birthday party. That chaos was scripted. David has to change clothes, they have to go several minutes back in the scene they just did, but as Anna points out, the sun is not in the same place it was when they started the scene. And then Michael loses his shit at Simon and storms off.

You think that's the reason Simon left, but then we get the episode where Georgia tells David Michael wants to write the script and then tells Michael that David wants to write the script. She does it so she can get them alone in a room together because people love watching them argue. They find out she set them up about six hours later. They are hungry and hot and annoyed and mad at her so she gets Simon to come back to work with David and Michael. Simon comes back from cosplaying as a dentist, brings the food Michael ordered hours ago, and sits down to write. Michael gets pissed off at Simon again because Simon forgot the prawn crackers, so he throws his food at Simon.

Some of these are of the past. Some are of the present. They were all filmed at the same time though so you don't know what happened when or why.

These scenes are all cobbled together. They tell a complete story though. The order just isn't exact.

The story we are seeing in season 2 isn't the real story. It was happening around Aziraphale and Crowley, but with them at the focal point, you get a romantic comedy and it distracts you from what's going on in the background.

There is more than one story in season 2. It's basically a jigsaw puzzle that we can try to piece together, but we won't know what's actually happening until we get the much needed context of season 3.

There are clues all over the place in Good Omens 2. The story is being told through so many other methods except for the one that makes the most sense to us because someone doesn't want us to see what's coming, so we get distracted by Nina and Maggie, Jim, Aziraphale and Crowley.

We know Muriel and Saraqael are up to something. We know Shax and Furfur are up to something. We know the Metatron is up to something. What we don't know is where God went. We hear God's voice in Companion to Owls and we hear God's voice speaking through and with Jim when Crowley orders him to tell them what is going on. It ties directly to the first time Crowley and Aziraphale ever worked together.

We know that Aziraphale is going to Edinburgh and he knows exactly where he's going because he and Crowley have been there before. It challenges the concept of good and evil because Crowley does the good thing and gets sucked into Hell. Right next to Gabriel's statue.

We know that Aziraphale picks up a hitchhiker even though he doesn't want to, and it turns out to be Shax. She reminds Aziraphale of the time that Furfur caught them working together. There were zombies and human magic tricks and Aziraphale uses sleight of hand to save Crowley from being dragged back down into Hell again.

The episode titles of Staged 3 all represent different chapters of A Christmas Carol. But it was more than that because Michael is upset with David for doing adverts without him after they were both asked to work together at first. They love each other and they love working together, but it's preventing them from doing other things they want to do. Hence the break from working together.

It's a story within another story within another story.

And I think that's what we are witnessing in Good Omens. Things aren't happening in the right order. Beyond the sadness of Aziraphale and Crowley splitting up, there is still the next apocalypse to deal with. The story we are getting in season two isn't happening sequentially. It's being manipulated to hide the signs that things are already underway by giving us a love story as a distraction.

And it works very damn well. Because the love story was beautiful.

Staged 3 ending

Good Omens 2 ending

#good omens #good omens meta #good omens theories #i am in no way saying that this is the answer #but it hit me while i was watching staged #staged #david tennant #michael sheen #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #michael and david

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billyhargrove-s · 2 years

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Night's like These

a/n: is billy OOC? possibly. do I care? not really <3. enjoy

request: What about Billy seeing his s/o and (step)sister getting along? Maybe they are dancing together?

relationship: billy x f!reader

warning: fluffy, mentions of Neil, I think thats it.

Many nights, Billy found himself staring at you in wonder. Tonight was one of those nights. When Neil found himself in a fit of drunken rage and Susan had practically begged Billy to take Max with him to your house for the night. Things had gotten better between the two of them, he liked to think that you were the reason for him mellowing out a bit and being nicer towards the girl. Well, then again he knew you were the reason for a lot of things.

Just like how right now, you were blaring Kate Bush through a Karaoke machine and forcing him to listen to the two of you singing poorly as you danced around each other. An hour prior, Max had been anxious about leaving the house where her mother dealt with Neil, yet somehow you managed to calm her down with a promise of a fun filled night.

No matter how much Billy wanted you to be all his for the night, and sweep you away, he knew how much you loved his sister and saw her as your own. Instead of interrupting the two of you and your impromptu girls night, he ordered a pizza and sat himself down on the couch, fiddling with the rings on his fingers.

He never understood how someone so loving, and caring, wound up with him. It was like you were sent from above to set him on a straight path. After meeting you there were less fights at school, less fights with Max, and he was overall a nicer person. Of course, he was still overprotective about everything and god forbid someone looked at his girl, but with you, he felt at peace. He was carefree and never worried about anything other than being a good boyfriend to keep you happy and with him.

He laughed as you collapsed on the couch next to him, absolutely breathless from belting the last lyrics of whatever song you were singing. Your head was in his lap, hair splayed out underneath you and Billy put his hand on your thigh, squeezing it.

“That was great babe.” He praised, even if it was anything but.

“Thank’s, I think I can give Kate Bush a run for her money.” You told him, reaching for his face to bring it down to your lips. He smiled into the kiss before pulling away to look down at you in total adoration. This was his life, you were his life, as much as he hated to admit it these nights where you and Max got along like you’d known each other your entire life were his favorites. He knew you’d always wanted a younger sibling, and Max was the perfect surrogate for that.

“Hungry?” He asked playing with your hands. There was never a moment where Billy wasn’t touching you in some sort of way. He always had to have one hand on you at all moments. You were his home, and just touching you in some way made him feel secure.

“Starving.” Max said from where she laid on the floor next to the karaoke machine, staring at the ceiling. “I think I might die if I don’t eat something soon.”

“Oh so I should cancel the pizza?” Billy asked taunting his sister causing her to roll her eyes and flick a hair tie at him. While things between the two used to be tense and that would’ve caused a screaming match, now it just felt like something normal. Like they’d grown up together and had always taunted each other for

“You do that and you’re no longer invited to girls night.” You said pouting. “You’ll have to sit in your car and think about all the fun you’d be missing out on.”

“Or the pitchy singing, my ears might thank me.” Billy teased and you playfully smacked his chest.

“You jerk.” You told him with a laugh and he smiled lovingly at you. The doorbell to your house rang out and Max rushed to get the pizza, grabbing Billy’s wallet from the coffee table as she did. He didn’t even protest, he couldn’t care less about buying. He’d do it a thousand times if every night was like this one.

“Have I ever said that I love you?” He asked quietly, kissing your lips in a slow and delicate way.

“Once or twice.” You spoke giving him another soft kiss.

“I swear I’ve said it more than that.” He said with a lopsided smile. “How could I not? You’re perfect in every possible way, and don’t even fight me on that because I’ll spend every day of the rest of my life proving it to you and reminding you how much I love you.”

“I love you more Billy.” You whispered giving him a final kiss, sitting up as Max came back to the basement with the pizza in hand, tossing Billy his wallet.

“Always trying to one up me.” He muttered, opening the box and taking a slice for himself.

“Should we watch a movie?” You suggested to Max who was busy stuffing her face with a slice of pepperoni pizza.

“Absolutely.” She said, looking like a chipmunk with the amount of food stuffed in her cheeks.

“Alrighty you get one set up, I’ll grab some blankets.” You told her before turning to Billy. “Are you guys spending the night?”

“If I had the opportunity I’d spend every night with you Y/n.” He said with his signature grin on his face. He knew his dad wouldn’t be as mad about not coming home if Max was with him. He’d deem is sibling bonding and wouldn’t argue as much about spending the night at his girlfriends house.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” You said, kissing his forehead and grabbing some blankets from the linen closet and throwing them at Billy. He smiled as you sat down next to him once more and spread the blanket over the two of you as Max popped a VHS tape into the player and ran to the couch, sitting on the opposite side of you. “What are we watching?”

“Texas Chainsaw Massacure” Max said with a grin, and Billy sneakily handed her a five dollar bill as he put his arm around you. They had an unspoken deal, you hated horror movies. But Billy loved the way you curled up next to him when they were on, so Max picked a scary movie, you cuddled Billy a little bit closer and she got arcade money.

“Oh god I hate this one.” You mumbled, even if you didn’t really hate it, you just hated trying to sleep after watching it. Billy squeezed your shoulder a little tighter and you leaned on him as the movie started. You jumped as Leatherface claimed another victim and Billy laughed as you dug your face into his shoulder.

“Don’t worry I’ll protect you.” He whispered, kissing your temple.

“Barf.” Max muttered from beside you, despite thinking how cute it was the way Billy was always reassuring you of your safety.

By the time the movie came to an end, you were asleep leaning on Billy and Max was half asleep using one of the throw pillows and laying in your lap. He chuckled to himself, wishing he could capture this moment to look back on forever. He smiled and pulled you closer to him listening as you grumbled in your sleep and wrapped your arms around his waist, squeezing him in a hug before falling back asleep. He was cramped, and tired, and the couch in your basement was tiny, but he wouldn’t change a thing if it meant he could spend more nights like this.

#billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #stranger things #billy hargrove imagines #stranger things imagine #x reader #stranger things x reader #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove x female reader

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neil-gaiman · 1 year

Note

Hey Neil!

I saw you repeatedly said you don't write stories that you don't publish, and remember you saying that it was because it was your living and so you had to earn money.

Some people consider this a personal question, but 1. I don't really understand why, and 2. If you think so you can just ignore my ask so...

Do you think if you stop publishing stories or don't publish enough you will struggle financially? What is your financial situation, and what do you think of it?

I talked to a friend the other day, and I told her I thought that writers were generally less paid than other "celebrities", and she told me that famous authors must earn A LOT, so what are your thoughts? (And I saw what you posted about strikes and writers getting less paid, but more precisely...?)

Thank you!

If I finish a story and it's any good I'll publish it. I can't conceive of a reason why I wouldn't. There are a few short stories unfinished, like the one about the Pope of the Zeppelins, which are mostly in notebooks, and which sometimes surprise me by coming back to life long after I think they're dead, and there is a novel I wrote when I was 22 along with a handful of stories in boxes in the attic because they're terrible and I'm not going to even try to get them published.

When I write a short story these days it's normally because someone has asked me for it. And if I'm writing it it's not because I'm going to be paid for it. The last short story I wrote was called "One Virtue and a Thousand Crimes" and was written for a Doctor Who charity fundraising lockdown book, for free. But the short stories, even if they are paid for, are basically for free. People don't pay much for short stories, certainly not enough to make me want to write one for money. But if I write 20 stories every decade then I get to bring out a new short story collection. It may sell about a third of what a novel will, but I like it representing me in the world.

In the 1970s and 1980s, famous authors definitely sold a hell of a lot of books and made a lot of money. These days, million-selling books are fewer, I suspect because there are so many things a person can spend their money on. I know the first time that I ever made it to #1 on the NYT Bestseller list it was with sales of about 14,000 books that week. Which is good but is not enough to retire on, or even to pay off the publisher's advance.

Having said that I do very well as an author. I would definitely have earned more as an author over the last 7 years than I have making TV, but I'm glad I got to make Good Omens and Sandman, and would rather have them in existence than the money.

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writethrough · 1 year

Text

Connection

(Billy Hargrove x Gender-Neutral Reader)

Synopsis: You stumble across Billy when you go to stargaze. He seeks you out each time after. (Based on an urge I had to write an unconsciously cuddly Billy.)

Warnings: Language, mentions of Neil and his abuse

Word Count: 2380

A/N: Okay, so I know yesterday I said about you all not being ready, but now that I've read this after a day, I'm not so confident in that statement. It's nice and all, but I think I let the whole "wrote this story in one sitting" get to my head. Anyway, let me know what you think! Also, I don't use feminine pronouns in this, but one part of this may lean toward the reader being a female, so if anyone thinks I should change this to a Billy x Fem!Reader, message me!

Billy Hargrove was the last person you expected to see in your field.

You supposed, technically, it wasn’t your field, but you did come here whenever possible. It was the best place for stargazing.

It was close enough that you could walk there from home. Your backpack was stuffed with two blankets, snacks, and water.

You saw Billy before he noticed you. He sat on the hood of his car, the smoke from his cigarette drifting to you on the breeze.

Cordial would be the best way to describe your relationship with him. Neither of you really spoke, but his sister had become your friend, so awkward pleasantries were as deep as you and Billy went.

You should probably say something to him. It’d be weirder if you didn’t.

Before you could, Billy looked over his shoulder, squinting over your flashlight until he could see you.

“What’re you doing out here?” Billy asked, turning back around.

“Could ask you the same,” you said, slipping your hands into your pockets.

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, lips tugging down.

“You should go home. It’s late,” he said. He inhaled deeply on his cigarette.

You bit the inside of your cheek. He clearly didn’t want to be disturbed, and you weren’t about to poke the bear.

“Don’t worry. I won’t bother you. I’ll just be over there.” You gestured with your head to the right, walking off before he could give you a response.

You pulled both blankets out of your backpack, laying one down and using the other as a pillow.

At first, it was odd to have an audience. Not that you thought Billy was staring at you, but just that another presence was here. It was that feeling you got when someone watched you do something you’d done a hundred times, but because someone was watching, it was like it was the first time you were doing it.

Twenty minutes passed, and you were finally settled, the stars gaining your full attention as they let your mind wander. You were connecting all the ones in Pegasus when you were interrupted.

“How are a bunch of tiny dots so interesting?” Billy stood beside you, arms crossed.

You would've been a little annoyed by the question, but something told you this was his way of reaching out. And you weren’t about to push away someone who needed a bit of company.

“Why don’t you lay down, and I’ll show you?” You patted the spot next to you.

He hesitated. Maybe he expected you to get irritated or start an argument, but your invitation relaxed him slightly. And he laid down, arms behind his head.

You smiled to yourself and looked back up, searching for the right constellation.

“Okay, do you see that little diamond shape with the tail?” You pointed.

His eyes narrowed, searching. “They all look the same.”

You rolled yours. “Okay. How about the big square over that way?” You moved your finger to the left, tracing the shape.

He slowly nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Good! That’s a part of Pegasus. Now, keep your eyes in the middle and move to the right. Pass the first star you see and keep going—”

“You mean the thing that looks like a kite?” he asked.

“Yes!” You grinned. “That’s Delphinus.”

“Like a dolphin?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Exactly. The myth goes that this constellation represents the dolphin Poseidon sent the goddess Amphitrite because he wanted to marry her.”

“He sent a dolphin to get her?” he asked slowly, giving you an “are you serious” look.

You nodded. “Another myth is that the dolphin saved a Greek poet after the poet sang a song as his 'last words.' He threw himself overboard, and the dolphin saved him.”

He was quiet for a moment, staring intently at the constellation.

“Which one do you like better?” His eyes met yours, and you were struck by how blue they were. The same blue you imagined, the dolphin swam in.

“The latter,” you said.

He looked at you in surprise. “Really? Not the other one? I thought girls liked that romantic shit.”

You let out a breath of a laugh. “It’s not really romantic. All the dolphin did was give Amphitrite a ride. The other one is…” How did you want to put this? “...It has more meaning.”

He waited for you to continue.

“The poet, Arion, sang a song that drew this dolphin toward him. His art literally saved his life because Delphinus was so moved by it and had to go toward it.” You softened. “Isn’t that what everyone wants? For someone to acknowledge you for who you are?”

He analyzed you for a few minutes. You weren’t sure what he was looking for, but you wished he’d say something. You hadn’t meant to say all that, and something about saying it to Billy felt like your heart was on the line. He could act disinterested, he could argue with you, or he could laugh in your face.

He had never been blatantly rude to you before, prickly, of course, but this felt different. Like there was a line between you two, and depending on his response, he’d either build a wall or cross over onto your side.

He slowly nodded. “I think I like the second one, too,” he almost whispered. Then, faced the stars once more.

It wasn’t what you expected, but the corners of your mouth lifted.

You spent the rest of the night pointing out other constellations. He took a keen interest in Equuleus. The horse had been pierced by Neptune’s trident when he and Athena were competing to determine who’d be the superior.

It went on for some time like that. He’d ask questions, and you’d try your best to answer. Or he’d make up his own constellations.

“You see that long-ass rectangle?” he asked, tracing with his finger.

“Yeah.”

“That’s ‘Smoke Break,’” he said. And when you giggled in response, he grinned.

You had unfolded the other blanket, draping it over the both of you. Between the conversations, the silence lulled you into a sleepy haze. And before you knew it, you were asleep.

—

When Billy woke up and saw the sun rising, he’d never been more confused. Then, he saw you, curled into his side with his arm around your waist. He couldn’t find it in himself to move.

Last night was something he could never have imagined.

Neil had a bad day at work. And that usually resulted in a few good shoves and a backhand. Billy had stormed out as soon as Neil left the living room.

Billy had been driving, speeding down the road when the rage left him, and he slowed to turn into a field. He’d been there ten-fifteen minutes when you showed up.

He wanted you to leave. Didn’t want any questions about why he was out here. So, when you pretty much left him alone, he was relieved. And sorta disappointed.

Billy had known you since high school. You’d been paired up for one project together that you both got an A on—the best grade he’d ever gotten, and he knew it was because of you—and that was about it.

He saw you when he dropped Max off and picked her up, and sometimes you’d wave at him if you saw him around.

In a way, Billy saw you as unreachable. Like your light was somehow drowning out his darkness. And he didn’t mind it. He just wasn’t sure he deserved it—to feel light himself. But you drew him in, and he couldn’t help but approach you after those twenty long minutes.

He was glad he did.

He’d never felt more at peace. You’d calmed a part of him that he didn’t think could be.

It was strange, but that moment with you didn’t feel real. As if the night sky wrapped you in a bubble for only the two of you to know.

And he refused to burst its remains until you woke up.

—

Billy had offered to drive you home that morning.

You’d awoken and pulled away almost instantly, face heating up and profusely apologizing.

He had shrugged them off and helped you shove the blankets back in your bag before throwing it in his backseat and holding the passenger door open.

It’d been a few days since then, and tonight was gonna be another clear one. On your walk to the field, you wondered if Billy would be there, too. It was probably a one-and-done thing—you still didn’t know why he had been there in the first place. But there was that spark of hope. And then disappointment when he wasn’t there.

A half hour went by, and you could feel yourself nodding off. You were trying to work up the energy to pack up when the crawling of wheels made you turn.

Billy got out of his car and strolled over.

“Anything interesting up there?” he asked.

You patted the spot beside you, and he took it without a thought.

“You know there are three goddesses of the moon in Greek mythology?” you said.

“How can there be three?” he asked, lying on his side.

“There’s Selene, Artemis, and Hecate.” You listed on your fingers. “Selene was believed to be the moon personified, while Artemis is the goddess of the hunt and wilderness, and Hecate is the goddess of magic and witchcraft.”

“Is Artemis the one with the wolves?” he asked.

You nodded. “Sometimes, though, she's often shown with deer.”

“Makes sense. What about Hecate? Think if I stare at the moon long enough, she’ll put me under her spell?”

You giggled. “I don’t think that’s how it works, but I guess you never know.”

“What else can you tell me?” he asked, giving you a lazy smile.

“Well, Selene is supposed to bring the moon across the sky with her chariot,” you said.

He hummed. “You think it’s an actual chariot or a motorcycle or somethin’?”

You snorted. “You’d love it if she had a motorcycle, wouldn’t you?”

“She’d be hot as shit.” His grin widened when you laughed. “C’mon, if you were pullin’ the moon across all that, wouldn’t you want something sexy?”

You paused for a moment, pretending to think. “A station wagon.”

He deadpanned. “A what?”

“A station wagon,” you repeated, trying not to laugh.

“Now you’re fucking with me.” He flopped onto his back.

You let a giggle slip. “Think about it. You have this beautiful celestial body, then a shitty, rundown station wagon in front of it. It’d be hilarious.”

You could tell he was imagining it and trying not to smirk.

“See! It’s funny!” you said, nudging his shoulder.

“Didn’t say that,” he said.

“But you thought it.”

He rolled his eyes. And it was enough of an admission for you.

The conversation slowly morphed into something else. Whereas the first night it was about the stars, tonight, it became more about the both of you.

“How do you know so much about this stuff,” he asked, adjusting the blanket over himself.

“I read a lot.” You played with a loose thread. “Helps that I didn’t have many friends growing up.”

He raised a brow. “That’s hard to believe.”

“Why’s that?” you asked, looking at him through your lashes.

He blinked, then cleared his throat. “You’re always hanging around Max and her friends. And Harrington.”

You nodded, missing that tone in his voice. The one he tried to convince himself wasn’t there.

“Yeah, it took a while, but I think I’ve found my people,” you said.

He stopped himself from asking if that included him.

“You, uh, you still working at that bookstore?” he asked, needing to change the subject.

“Why? Thinking about reading up on some myths?” you teased.

He let out a breathy laugh. “Maybe. But I don’t think reading them would be quite the same as listening to you.”

You smiled in response.

Again, you lost yourselves that night, falling asleep and waking up with your head on his chest.

Each time your conversations delved deeper. And each morning, the hasty pack-up and drive home extended to soft “good mornings,” slow risings, and comfortable mullings of nothing. You began to crave those moments.

And so did he.

When he’d drop Max off at the bookstore, he’d walk her in, hoping to see you. And on those days, Max usually bought one book with another stashed under her arm. One to read at home and the other, so she had something to do as she sat in one of the armchairs as you and Billy talked.

Max told El what was happening. Then El told Mike, who told Dustin, and Dustin told Steve, and he told the rest.

None of them knew how your friendship blossomed or why it happened now.

Then, one night, Max watched from the crack in her door as Billy strode out of the house after another of Neil’s screaming sessions.

She knew Billy’s date look, and this wasn’t that. It didn't seem like he was running away this time. There was something in his steps that suggested he was running toward. And it clicked.

—

You were waiting for Billy. At this point, every time you were out here you were waiting for him.

He’d somehow wormed his way into your routine, and now, without him here, it felt wrong. Like you were missing this crucial piece.

When he finally arrived, he didn’t say a word, no sarcastic quip or flirty banter. He simply laid down. What you didn’t anticipate was for him to pull you into his side.

His arm settled around your shoulders, his other hand on your forearm, his thumb rubbing up and down. He didn’t look at you, didn’t speak, his brow furrowed.

It was a look you’d seen before.

It worried you.

You wanted it gone.

“So, what do you wanna know this time?” you asked tentatively, chin resting on his chest.

His eyes slid to yours. They relaxed like he finally realized where he was, and they became hooded. He trailed down to your lips, then back, the barest of smiles gracing his features.

“Everything,” he whispered, pulling you closer.

And you knew he wasn't talking about the stars.

#billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x gender neutral reader #billy hargrove x gn!reader #billy Hargrove imagine #billy Hargrove fanfic #billy Hargrove fluff

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heyimdove · 5 months

Text

Things of Note at @neil-gaiman ‘s NJPAC talk:

1. Do you people understand that he switches into accents when he reads? Do you people know he does a perfect Michael Sheen impression? did you know it’s also hot

2. He used to cold call publishers/mags to see if they’d publish his work. He’d lie when asked what other magazines he wrote for; they’d think he was more legitimate and would, therefore, be more likely to take him on themselves. “You couldn’t get away with that now” thanks to Google. Also, back then, “we had telephones and we used them,” but today’s publishers would not easily recover if you unexpectedly called them on the phone.

3. It was a personal point of pride for Neil to write for each of the magazines he’d claimed to have written for. He said “I didn’t lie. I was chronologically challenged.”

4. Neil made a deliberate effort to not be boxed in by publishers. He’d interviewed many authors who were unhappily boxed and did everything he could to avoid it, including declining big contracts from prestigious publishers (notably after American Gods). This is why he can write what he likes now. Comics writing spoiled him in this regard, as publishers mistook the medium for a genre, and therefore didn’t care what he wrote (so he wrote all the genres he wanted to in Sandman).

5. He hates Thomas Hardy thanks to being introduced to him in school. Regarding being forced to read Tess of the D’urbervilles, he said “I wouldn’t do that to a dog”. He hopes students, who might have liked him if they found him on their own, don’t encounter his work in school and hate him for it.

6. “The evil characters (you write) don’t possess you, you try to find the little bit of you in them….the little bit of you that is gloriously evil.”

7. “I touched the magic and passed it along” this was a line from Watching from the Shadows that especially moved me.

8. Terry was increasingly upset as the bidding on Good Omens increased (eventually reaching 150,000 - can’t remember if he said $ or £). For his part, when the book finally sold, Neil put on Iggy Pop’s Success and danced.

9. Anansi Boys should be out on Prime by the end of 2024!

10. Described Sandalphon as someone you want to “hit with a large oar”. (The woman next to me, who was extremely stingy with her applause, hooted like an owl at this and clapped til the last).

11. Pronounces Amazon as “Ama-zin” and Los Angeles as “Los Angelese”. This isn’t noteworthy, but I liked it enough to write it down.

12. “Being on a beach in bare feet” was the line that led Neil to realize David Tennant would be perfect for Crowley.

13. He is pictured on the ALA’s poster holding Wind in the Willows because, as a child, “it messed up my head.” He said he is “in love” with a chapter in the middle called The Piper at the Gates of Dawn where the characters meet Pan. It’s often left out of printings, which makes him sad because it is “strange, beautiful, luminous”.

14. TOATEOTL was originally planned to go to Broadway. Then, Covid. They did a “world tour” instead. Now that it’s wrapped, talks about Broadway are happening. He says all of adaptations of his work, this is his favorite.

15. “Disney’s Aladdin plays four times a day in Hell”

16. His favorite question of the night was “WHY did you think of the Other Mother?” He was tickled by the word choice of “why”

17. Asked the library in Sussex “What have you got in the way of really good horror for four year olds?” Obviously none existed so he wrote Coraline.

18. Talked about going viral for being in a falafel, seemed to marvel at the progression of the meme’s meaning.

19. “Tumblr is its own madness”

20. “Stephen King has fabulous stories about meeting fans in toilets, including being passed a book under the stall”

21. Read “The Day the Saucers Came” which I misheard initially as Sauces. Saucers is definitely better.

22. “You want to see me doing Dickens?” I laughed inappropriately at this. I was the only one.

23. I don’t want to say what pieces he read because I want you to buy tickets to his events. But it was very nice to be read to by Neil Gaiman.

It’s very worth it to go. I flew out from San Diego for this and would do it again in a heartbeat!

#neil gaiman

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bookshelf-dust · 1 year

Text

the hurt is good

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

billy hargrove x fem!reader

word count: 3,705

warnings: swearing, brief mentions of blood/anxious lip picking, anxiety attack, talk of self-harming behaviors, mentions of abuse/toxic relationships/neil, fluff

a/n: wow. hi! i’m sorry it took so long for me to get this out. school has been a lot lately. thank you for all the positive feedback on the previous parts and for sticking around! also this isn’t the last part. i lied. there will be one more. anyhow there’s a lot of heavy stuff in this part, but also a lot of love. i hope you enjoy it and maybe find something in it. love you loads and loads <3333

before you read, listen to: when it’s cold i’d like to die by moby and/or slipping through my fingers by ABBA

————

Billy did not hear from you yesterday, or the day before that. He hasn’t been worried, per say, because it’s not like he’ll die if he can’t speak to you at all times.

But today, on the third day, he starts to be a little upset by the absence of you.

He really doesn’t like it when it’s Nicky that calls him, rather than you.

“Are you busy today, hon’?” Her voice is sweet as always.

“No, I’m not,” Billy tells her. He licks his lips, a little uneasy.

“Do you think you could come over for a while?”She asks. “Y/N just left, which is big, but she’s going out with some old friends, and I’m a little worried. She had a really hard time getting over them, and I’ve got somewhere to be for awhile and I just don’t want her to be alone after all of this.”

Nicky stops, inhaling. She realizes she’s been rambling to her poor boy. She starts to apologize, and Billy stops her, laughing a little.

“I can do that, yeah. Who was she having lunch with? If you don’t mind me asking.”

He can hear Nicky sigh.

“Nancy.”

————

Billy is on your front steps when you pull up. He’s smoking, but he stomps it out when he sees you.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he says.

Your hands are shaking so bad that you drop your keys. Billy picks them up for you, and it’s only when he looks you over that he realizes something’s not right.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

You’re wringing your hands continuously, as if trying to prevent doing something else. He steps closer to you, because you’re biting his lip, and he goes to pull it free like he always does.

There’s blood on the tip of his thumb when he pulls it away.

“Y/N, you’ve made yourself bleed.”

You lick your lips, tasting metal. You blink at him. Billy looks closer at your mouth, realizing there’s a welt and that it’s swollen on one side.

“Come on and let me clean it up, okay?”

You nod and let the boy lead you inside your home. Billy tries to get you to sit on the counter, but you stop him.

“I just need a second,” you say.

It’s the first thing you’ve said to him thus far, and Billy finds himself relieved to hear your voice, even if the shakiness of it matches that of your hands.

You use your hands to brace yourself against the counter, leaning your head forward to face the floor. You close your eyes and try to breathe.

Billy doesn’t know what to do, so he rubs his hand up and down the curve of your spine. It feels warm against your back.

He kisses the crown of your head and suddenly you straighten, a slightly panicked look in your eye, though Billy can tell you’re trying to repress it.

“I need you to help me,” you tell him, running your hands down your face.

“Anything,” Billy says, worried over your state of being.

“I’m having an anxiety attack and I need you to help calm me down because my heart is beating so fast that I feel like I can’t breathe and everything is shaking and I just—I just, I need you.”

“To talk to me or something. I need you to be here with me for a minute.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t need convincing.

Billy brings his hands to your face, stroking his thumbs over your unusually warm cheeks. His eyes dart all over you.

“Look at me,” he says.

You nod, locking your eyes with his. You study his eyelashes, the way they kiss at the corners and leave shadows on the tops of his cheeks in the light.

“Breathe with me.”

“Okay.”

In and out. In and out. You focus on the way Billy is breathing, and that seems to help. You watch the steady rise and fall of his chest rather than worrying about the feeling in yours.

“How long do they usually last?” Billy inquires. “The heart palpitations.”

“Little while. Half hour, little less, little more. Depends on if I can get myself calmed down.”

Billy presses his lips to your forehead, keeping them there for a moment. They’re chapped, but it’s still chilly outside, so it makes sense. The cold is the same reason for the cracks in the skin on the back of your hands.

“Sit up on the counter for me, baby. I’m gonna get you some water, okay? I’ll be right back, I promise.”

You do as he says, balancing yourself on the edge of the bathroom vanity. Your tongue darts out to swipe over your lip, and Billy was right. You can feel the swelling and the welt he mentioned.

You’ve always done it when stressed or uncomfortable. It’s not always this bad though. You just kept going and going after lunch today, even after it had started to bleed.

The boy returns as he’d said he would, a glass of water in hand. He gives it to you and watches to make sure you’re successfully drinking.

“Can I look at it?” Billy gestures vaguely in the direction of your lip.

“Uh huh.” You fight the urge to cover your mouth like you have before, like when your mother has noticed it’s scabbed.

Billy uses his thumb to press on your lip, examining the damage you’ve done to it. He’s chewed his before when anxious, but never like this. But he guesses he’s expressed these feelings you’re having in other ways.

He takes the change to pull at your lip a little too, noticing you’ve torn at the inside just as well as the outside.

“It hurt?”

You snort. “No. Feels great.”

Billy rolls his eyes at you, and then he’s feeling around in his pockets. You take another big sip of water while you’re observing him. It’s almost empty, so you decide to finish it. He waits for you to do so.

When you have, Billy swipes his pinky along the edge of your mouth to catch a drop of water. He presents what he’d been searching for: a little pot of chapstick. He figures if you’ve got something on your lips you can’t fuck them up as easily.

“You gonna let me put this on you?” He asks, features soft.

“Kiss it better first?”

Billy smirks, proud of your ability to flirt with him.

“I shouldn’t. Should leave it alone until it heals some.”

You pout.

He kisses you anyways.

When he pulls away, he unscrews the lid to the balm and you hook your fingers in his belt loops. He dips his index finger in and brings it to your mouth, spreading it over the sore spot and then over the remaining expanse of your lips.

You rub them together after he’s finished.

“Thank you.” Billy nods, returning the container to the depths of his jean pockets.

“Will you tell me what’s got you so worked up?” He helps you off of the counter. You leave the bathroom and head to your bedroom. He follows without a second thought.

You gesture for him to sit down, but you remain standing so that you can pace as you speak.

“I saw Nancy today.”

“Yeah?” Billy knows this, and you know he does, but he wants you to let it all out.

“Yeah,” you start. “She asked me how I was doing. I told her that I was doing okay.”

“And she said ‘You must be doing better if you’re out by yourself, doing big girl stuff.’ What the fuck does that even mean, Billy?” It’s a rhetorical question. One he doesn’t answer.

“She made it sound like I was incapable of being anything but a loner. Like I can’t take care of myself or something? It just got me thinking about how she always thought I was so odd for not being like her.”

Billy wishes you would sit down. Your pacing is stressing him out.

“Then Nancy asked me if I was seeing anyone, and I said you.”

You sit, and Billy’s shoulders relax.

“She acted surprised, Billy.”

“She said, ‘I guess I’m just shocked. I guess I thought he wasn’t someone that really dated.’ And then, ‘You know, I know we aren’t really close anymore, but you could so do better than him.’”

You’re standing again. Billy realizes that you’re pissed off. He’s never seen you this way before. He kind of likes it.

“And she’s basing this off of, what, one interaction she’s had with you? Whatever she hears around school? Shit, she doesn’t even know you. She doesn’t even know me anymore, and the fact that she’s just blatantly giving me relationship advice?”

“Billy, I yelled at her.”

He laughs. Tosses his head back and laughs. He wishes he could’ve seen you rip Nancy Wheeler a new one. In fact, he would’ve paid to do so.

You start grinning at him. He’s so proud of you.

“I just—she made me so mad and I just started shouting at her. It just felt so unfair, the way she was acting. I only agreed to go today because I thought I might get closure after feeling forgotten about for so long. And I told her that.”

“She claimed she didn’t forget about me, but that she just ‘found a different social circle.’ Fuck! So I told her that she had no right telling me what to do with my life when she sure as shit never cared before. And I couldn’t let her talk about you either.”

You finish, setting your hands on your hips. Billy stands and takes your face into his hands again.

“I’m proud of you, Y/N. That you went out today and then stood up for yourself. The yelling is pretty badass too. And I appreciate you defending me. It’s nice to know you’d do that even when I’m not there.”

“Of course I would.” You grab his hand and kiss his palm. “Thank you.”

He nods. “So how come you fucked up your lip then?”

“Trying to deal with it, I guess. I felt bad the whole way home. Like maybe I’d been a bitch or something.”

“Hey, no. You aren’t a bitch for wanting better and for saying so.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m positive.”

The both of you have been so caught up in handling this that you didn’t hear Nicky come home, or wander through the house putting groceries away. You only realize she’s there when her voice comes from across the hall.

“He’s right, honeybee! Not a bitch!” She exclaims, and then she’s shutting the door to her room. She just needed to make sure you heard that. She’s proud of you too.

You bury your face in Billy’s neck and he’s laughing so much that you have to move your head.

“I hate you both.”

“I bet you do. Guess you won’t need any make-it-better kisses then.”

“Asshole.”

“Yeah. Nope. No more.”

“Please?” You grab hold of his hips.

Billy stares at you. He’s going to break. You both know it. But he can’t resist the urge to pretend like he won’t, just for a second.

He kisses you, once, twice.

When he pulls away he puts an arm around you, his hand resting on the small of your back. His fingertips slip just underneath the waistband of your jeans. Suddenly he looks very serious.

“Have you done that before?” He asks. You know what he means. And you know the answer.

“Yes,” you say. Billy closes his his for just a second. Something about composure.

“Do you—is it to hurt yourself?”

You’re quiet for a moment, thinking. Trying to articulate a response to this. It’s an anxious habit, sure. Sometimes you’re picking at your lip without even realizing, and you quit when you do.

But other times, maybe that is the case. You pick and bite until your lip is bleeding, until it’s swollen, until it hurts to eat or drink.

“Sometimes.”

Billy inhales and you can see the way his chest shakes.

“Talk to me,” he says. He thinks about chewing on his thumb nail or lighting up. It’s the same thing. A coping mechanism.

“I usually do it if I feel like I need to shut everything out. It’s a distraction from big feelings. Maybe like a punishment if I feel stupid or if I’ve embarrassed myself.”

“You ever told anyone this before?” Billy has pulled you closer than you thought possible, his arm around your back snug like he’s afraid to let you go.

“Just you.”

Billy feels a pang in his chest at that. Just you. Him.

“I don’t want you to shut them out anymore. You feel something big, you talk to me about it, yeah?”

“Okay.” You look so vulnerable. Like he’s looking at a part of yourself you’ve never shown anyone before.

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself. Will you work on this with me?”

“Only if you work on the smoking with me.”

Billy rests his forehead against yours, exhales through his nose.

“Okay.”

————

Billy’s staying the night again. You’re in the shower, so he’s sitting at the counter in your kitchen. He offered to help Nicky fix dinner or wash dishes or do something, but she downright refused.

He’s turned his head to look at a picture of you on the counter. Your senior picture. You look so pretty.

This means that the side of his face is in Nicky’s direct line of sight. The side that Neil hit. He side that’s bruised, despite his hoping it wouldn’t.

Nicky looks up, feeling a jolt in her chest. Something in her just knows. If Billy had been in a fight, you would’ve told her. She knows you would’ve. But if it was a non-school fight, those chances are slim.

She knows. Every cell in her body screams with it.

“Billy, honey? Can I ask you something?”

The boy turns back to face your mother, spinning the ring on his middle finger around and around. “Sure.”

She moves to face the sink so as to not embarrass him.

“How long?”

Billy’s fingers freeze. She knows. Of course she knows. He thinks about pretending he doesn’t have clue what she means. But he knows she’d see right through that.

He buries his face in his hands. “Since I was a kid. Since he couldn’t take it out on my mom anymore.”

Nicky sets the plate she’d been holding down to dry and drains the water from the sink. Dishes can wait.

“Billy, you don’t have to hide from me. You’re safe here. I think we’ve made that pretty clear, sweetheart.”

The boy straightens and sits on his hands.

“I’m assuming Y/N knows? Probably already looked at it?”

He nods. “Yeah.”

Nicky approaches the other side of the counter from where he sits and clasps her hands. “You know that you can come here anytime you need to, right?”

“I know.”

“Y/N said Max is your step-sister. Is your father aggressive towards her or your step-mother?”

Billy hates being asked these questions but for some reason he feels no urge to fight it. He knows Nicky means no harm and only wants the best for him.

“He’s never laid a hand on Max, no. I wouldn’t let that happen. I’m not really around Susan much, though, but I’ve never seen her with anything or heard him do anything. He screams at her sometimes, though. He’s a piece of shit. He doesn’t treat her any better than he did my mom. They deserve better. Both of them.”

Nicky quirks a brow. “And you don’t?”

Billy’s breath catches. “I don’t know.”

“You do. You deserve the world, hon’.”

Billy blinks, hard. “Thank you.”

“Just telling you the truth, kiddo.”

Nicky goes quiet for a moment, playing with her own rings. One of them you got for her when you were twelve. It has her birthstone set into it.

“You’re eighteen, Billy. Technically your dad doesn’t have any claims to you anymore.” She’s slowly plotting, a steady stream of thoughts forming in her mind.

“Supposing you want to stay with Max, or even in your own home—because I can’t imagine you’d want to be uprooted again—do you think that Susan is capable of taking care of herself and the both of you? Say if Neil weren’t around?”

Billy contemplates this. He’s trying to get past the knowledge that there’s an adult in his life actively and genuinely trying to help him and make sure he’s safe. No one’s ever had a heart-to-heart with him like this. Frankly, he’s at a loss.

“I suppose so. I mean she took care of Max before. And Max was a pretty happy kid, I think. You know, internally. If you look past the sarcasm.”

Nicky laughs. It’s the kind of sound that you miss when you haven’t heard it in awhile.

“I think Max only got sort of reclusive once Neil came in and sort of pushed her dad out. I don’t think I helped either. But yeah, I-I think she could. Take care of us.”

“And I feel wrong saying this, because she’s not my mother, and it’s her life, but I think she needs better. If she wants Max back then she needs to leave Neil. Because Susan is losing Max. I can see it.”

Billy hears the shower shut off from down the hall, the sound of the curtain being pushed aside.

“What if I talked to Susan? Would that make you uncomfortable? Maybe I can get through to her. About Neil. And I can talk to Max, or I can back off.”

He hears the bathroom door open. Sees a flash of you across the hallway in a towel, then the slam of your own bedroom door. It makes him laugh.

Nicky knows exactly what you’ve done. You’ve done the same thing since you were a kid. It warms her heart to see him laugh at little things like that.

“No. It wouldn’t make me uncomfortable,” Billy says. “I would appreciate that, actually. But maybe let me talk to Max first?”

“Anything you need, honey. And I want you to know that this is a safe space, okay? If you ever need somewhere to stay. And the same goes for Max. If she needs to get away or anything.”

Billy looks up at Nicky and she has the kindest smile he’s ever seen. He knows she means everything she’s saying.

He has the urge to hug her and so he does. He hasn’t had a mom to hug in so long.

————

Billy’s driving again. It seems this is the only time he can get himself to talk about the hard stuff with her.

“Max.”

“Huh?” She’s reading a comic book. He doesn’t know how she does that. He’d probably hurl.

“Nicky wants to help Susan leave Neil.”

Max doesn’t move or close the comic, but she does stare at the page for an awfully long time. “So what does that mean?”

“I don’t know, exactly. But I was wondering…do you want me to leave too? Or can I stay?”

Billy has never sounded this raw and emotional around her before. It’s enough to make her face him.

“You think you have to leave?”

“I don’t know if you or Susan are going to want me to stay.”

Max sighs. “I want you to stay. It’d be weird to not have someone in the next room with horrible music playing. Do you want to go?”

“No,” he says, fingers gripping the steering wheel.

“Then stay.”

Stay.

————

“So you’ve verbally brutalized two of the Wheeler women in the last couple of weeks?”

You’re laying on Max’s bed. You can’t help but notice it’s softer than Billy’s but you try not to ponder that for too long.

Susan and Neil aren’t here.

“I wonder if Mike knows this. That he’s got a predatory mother.”

“I don’t know.” You roll onto your back and stare at the posters on her walls.

“If it helps,” she says, pasting a new sticker on her skateboard, “I never liked Nancy anyways. Kinda bitchy.”

You snort, looking at her sticker as she presents it to you. “Very nice,” you say.

“Lucas got it for me.”

“That was sweet of him.”

This time she snorts.

There’s the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. “Uh oh,” you say. “The beast has awoken.”

Max laughs hard enough that she has to slap a hand over her mouth when he appears in the doorway.

Billy looks at you with a scowl on his face before approaching Max’s bed. He flops down on top of you and buries his face in your neck.

“You left me,” he says.

It’s true. You’d been in his room with him, snuggling, though he refuses to call it that. He’d fallen asleep on you, but you didn’t have a book or anything, so after a while, spine aching, you slipped out and left him to nap.

A glance at Max and she’s making a gagging motion at you. You glare toward the sticker she just put on and she rolls her eyes, cornered.

“You fell asleep. I wanted you to rest. And my back started to hurt.” Billy grunts, and you notice the mess that his hair has become. You point it out to Max. She starts grinning and so do you, and it’s as if he can sense it.

“Stop.”

“Not doing anything.”

Billy lifts his head to look at you, brow furrowed and eyes puffy with sleep. There are even sheet marks on the side of his face.

“You’re conspiring.” He collapses back into your chest. “Little shits, both of you.”

You laugh and he whines again because you’ve jostled him.

You look at Max and she crosses her legs over Billy’s back, using her brother as a foot rest. He’s too sleepy to complain. She puts a pillow under her head and settles in, seemingly ready to take her own nap.

Shit, you think. Might as well. And you close your eyes too, petting Billy’s hair as you do. He smiles into you. You can feel it.

And it’s the best nap you’ve ever had.

————

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