#it's all in the little details - and to fill a set you need HUNDREDS and nothing has gotten in there just by accident

[girlinplaits]

Screaming. Crying. Throwing myself against a wall; A walkthrough of Netflix’s ‘Heartstopper’ with Set Decorator Maxwell Fine

Image credits: Netflix, Rob Youngson, See Saw, Maxwell Fine 

This post has been copied from Maxwell Fine's website for future reference.

My phone didn’t stop buzzing on a random Wednesday in February 2021. Colleagues and friends were tweeting, facebooking and whatsapping me to tell me See Saw was producing a new show called Heartstopper for Netflix and I had to get myself involved. After making a little bit of a name for myself in LGBTQIA+ creative projects earlier in my career It sounded like the perfect fit for my next TV show!

I’m Maxwell Fine and for the past 10 years I have worked as a Set Decorator in TV, Advertising and Music promo. I’ve been in the most bizarre and fabulous situations on set from steaming silk curtains for Kate Winslet on a Lancome campaign to watching Lady Gaga be strung up to a studio ceiling in Japanese ropes for an Art Film. I’ve made panel shows, scripted comedies and fiercely bold dramas for BBC, Disney and Netflix amongst others - the list really does go on and on.

Thankfully, my phone often rings and my inbox is filled with requests here and there “can you do that?” or “Are you available to jump on this?” and on this particular random Wednesday afternoon, the brilliantly bold and BAFTA award winning designer Tim Dickel, asked me to jump on a Zoom to discuss a new project.

I had never heard of (the absolutely delightful) New York Times Best selling Author, Alice Oseman’s ‘Heartstopper’ before the script landed in my inbox. Like a lot of people, once I discovered it I couldn’t get it out of my head. There were so many parallels to my own life and I immediately understood why it was a queer story that just had to be told mainstream. If you can, you must - and so we did!

A few years previous I had campaigned for Switchboard LGBT+ helpline with the launch of my Print and Neon sculpture project ‘Robbed’. I created a load of typographical artworks inspired by a mentally exhausting jaunt I had with an ex partner who struggled with coming to terms with his sexuality.

The Art Department on a shoot take care of everything visual. From designing and building sets, booking Animals and Characters Vehicles, Food styling through to all the props and furniture used to dress a space. Paperclips to Spaceships - it’s up to the Art Department who design, buy and coordinate. As a Set Decorator, I work with a Designer and team to bring their vision to life through … stuff!

Observation is king.

I learnt to be a keen observer really early in secondary school. I was around 14 years old when I found myself squirrelled away at the back of the Art Classroom. I found myself set up on a stool next to the photocopier because I wouldn’t stop talking to my friends all lesson. I soon worked out that I really liked playing with materials and making things and so, headphones in I would sit for hours and hours, in lunch breaks and after school - making things. Painting, drawing, crafting sculptures, working with layering, cutting things out, trying again and again to make something out of nothing - a theme that would take me into this weird and wonderful career in Television!

We were being taught to observe. A weird task perhaps but an important one that would give me grounding for my future career working in TV design! As students, we would look at the world around us and try and replicate. Impressionist brush strokes, shadows and highlights on fruit, the texture of an onion out of papier mache - whatever we were working on - observation was king. Looking back now, I can not stress enough the importance of this life skill.

I gently honed my craft and with a lot of encouragement from teachers I passed my GCSE in Art and moved onto A Levels, then graduated Secondary school to a Foundation course in Art and Design and then onto Central Saint Martins to study Performance design as a University degree.

When we find Charlie sitting alone on the floor in the Art Classroom pondering life, it really made me think back to my own experience at school. Okay - so it’s wasn’t quite the same and our stories are different - but that connection to creativity and our shared curiosity with the world Charlie has is familiar to my story too.

In practice, being lead by our brilliant designer Tim, I tried to take the messy creativity of my own Art Classroom at School through to the Art Classroom at Truham. Together with our fabulous Production Buyer Zoe Seiffert and our Art Department team, we worked to create endless lists of what we were going to put in this empty room to bring it to life as a working Art Classroom.

I dug out some old photos I had of my Art room and we started to observe and take notes. Paint bottles, dirty brushes, coursework, notebooks, portfolios, stacks of paper. “Plants! We always had plants!” Zoe noted - quick - we popped some plants in the space and then our Art Assistants started making sketches of leaves, paintings of trunks to put around the place - as if the students had had a botanical project of some sort and had made work from the objects around them. All the amazing Artwork you see in the space was conceived by Tim and made in house by our team. Themes of Identity, open doors, the eye project, animal and environmental sculptures, self portraits - we were really exploring classic school themes here!

We added layers upon layers to bring life to the abandoned school we were filming in. We brought in coloured glass objects on window sills for light to bounce through, splattered paint all over the walls and repainted furniture. Our Art Assistants made recycled sculptures from coloured cellophane we found at a recycling warehouse on the outskirts of London. Tim has a knack of finding brilliant source images to work from. Sea animals, giant Jellyfish sculptures, Cassette tapes made from string, Fingerprint Artwork made from Newspaper cuttings - the creativity was endless!

You may notice throughout the series the Artwork in the room changes as the story moves through the seasons and our Characters develop their romance. Cacti sculptures come into bloom, Tissue Paper buds begin to blossom and we add more detail as the series progresses - in a way, the props here have their own way of growing with the Characters!

To say this set specifically was a labor of love is an understatement. We moved the artwork around the walls more than you’ll ever know, mounting, stapling, creating labels and really trying to capture the vibe of a busy British Secondary school Art room. We knew it was the one place in School where Charlie seeks refuge and so the relief of uncapped creativity needed to come through the props and dressing in this space more than anywhere else in the School.

Continuing our theme of integrating Alice’s illustrations, the sets in the Schools are almost their own character!

Tim was keen to create contrasting shapes and block colours to define spaces and keep the visual clean and graphic. The team made some epic 3D science posters in the Higgs form room and printed a semi transparent window film of the Periodic table to put in the window panes. Throughout the schools you can find nods to illustrations. From the Hokusai inspired blowing leaf mural (drawn by Alice!) in the Hallway (a beautiful nod to the winds of change!) at Truham to the Julian Opie inspired mural outside by the picnic benches. The best design ideas are often the simplest.

Tim wanted to work with the concept of a Geography classroom in the Truham Form room. Volcano sculptures made by students (actually made by our super talented Art Assistants) and segmented diagrams of Geodes and Rocks on the windows. We even found some really cool sandy beige school chairs from the 70’s to use here. Tim loves using light panels and placed a brilliant display of backlit images of rocks in the corner behind Nicks head for the scene where Charlie and Nick first meet. I loved the idea of rocks being formed under pressure and the metaphor of our characters blossoming romance - it all seemed to fit quite nicely. There are little gems like this all over the sets if you’re on the look out!

How to fill an empty space

Rule number one: Some spaces need to remain empty and some spaces are full on purpose.

Everything you see on screen is intentional, from dying plants to folded post-it notes. The colour of confetti through to the pattern on Nellie the dogs collar - every single item was hand picked by the Art Department with intention. You might think, why does this matter? Well, if it was any other way - we’d be telling a different story!

I talk a lot about contrast in this blog and really it’s the idea of full spaces vs empty spaces, light rooms vs dark rooms that bring the magic of a set together. The Dark, empty hallway Charlie follows Ben down vs the busy bright and colourful Art Room Charlie feels truly comfortable in to discuss his innermost feelings with Mr Ajai - everything we do is designed to support the storyline.

Working from Alice’s source material, we wanted a sense of hand drawn details in our sets. You can see this in patterns on ceramics and fabrics all over our sets. We tried to select elements that had a friendly illustrative element to them, from mugs to water bottles, curtains to cushions. The shapes within objects have softness, curves, uneven lines - we set ourselves guidelines to know what sort of objects to search for when we were buying.

As in most film shoots, we worked to create the perfect environment for our characters to exist in to let the story unfold. Charlie’s room is eclectic and messy because his story can be seen as eclectic and messy. He absorbs everything going on around him, over thinks and questions everything, so our question was; how do we show this through stuff?

Nicks room is more uniform in style. Nick’s life can be seen as more stereotypically ‘together’ than Charlie’s and so his Bedroom reflects this. It looks more settled and more formulaic. For me, the way Charlie embraces his sexuality is a direct result of him being so creatively curious in life. Although he might not think it, he’s bold, courageous and sure of himself. We wanted to create a design contrast between Nick and Charlie’s spaces to show their differences. Having such rich source material from Alice’s illustrations was a brilliant starting point for us to create from.

Our team worked on fleshing out the illustrations and adding layers of British Teenage life to them. We discussed how these characters would have grown up in these bedrooms and what the objects would be within them that make the bedrooms theirs.

There’s magic in the clutter!

We try to create a sense of realism by mixing and contrasting objects and colour tones. Brand new things next to vintage fabrics, hard surfaces next to soft, light next to dark. It can even get as granular as Matt next to Gloss - it’s all in the contrast. People tend to gather things in their environments over time from all sorts of places. It’s our job on a shoot to find the balance and create a convincing space in a super fast turn around -often a matter of weeks from concept to finished set.

Charlies bedroom wanted to be messy but also had to have a sense of ownership. We wanted to give him layers and layers of life that had collected as he’d grown up in the bedroom. We start with working out the furniture and then the rest falls into place from there. Our question often was, if there were 100 objects available what ones would Charlie pick to have in his bedroom? Out of all the things in the world, what represents him the most? Lamps, shoes, trinkets and bedding, books and posters - everything chosen specifically with the character in mind. I like to think the props tell their own story!

Early on Tim was keen to involve graphic shapes in the design for Heartstopper which came directly from Alice’s illustrations. The key to this was pulling reference directly from the Graphic novels. Stripes, stars, squiggles, leaves - you can see it in every scene and every shot. I found the rug from Charlie’s bedroom in a closing down sale in North London. We thought it worked really nicely with its bold geometric shapes in the scene where Nick and Charlie are on the floor doing homework.

I knew from reading my scripts (1000 times) that we had a sleepover here and our Characters would be hanging out on the floor. We found a vintage mattress to pull in on the floor for this scene and a load of random bedding and camping accessories we imagined would have been hauled out of the attic by Charlie’s dad. Charlie’s ‘cabin bed’ is raised up on cabinets which gives us some texture and shape behind him when he’s leaning against it sitting on his bedroom floor.

I found a job lot of amazing vintage erasers - we really wanted a sense of collections and nic’naks on shelves, stuffed behind the bed and on the desk. Our Art Assistants set to work scribbling, doodling, scratching marks into the furniture and remaking various things to turn one thing into another. A camel sculpture wears a vintage Action Man jacket, Toy Soldiers climb around Charlie’s bedroom door. It went on and on, including the excessive Converse piled around the room and plenty of Knitted jumpers noted in the graphic novels! If you looked super closely, we even scratched height marks into Charlie’s bedroom door frame as if his parents had noted different heights as he grew up.

Tim wanted realism in the sets to ground them in something believable and provided us with a lot of creative references to work from. We spent a long time researching what teens had in their bedrooms to guide us! I was asked if I could frame one of my Art prints for Charlie’s bedroom and we thought that the iconic ‘Stand Tall’ print would be the perfect piece to pop on his bedside table. It’s available to buy here if ever you needed an ounce of positivity and encouragement in your life too!

Our fantastic Art Assistant Anastasia Louka is a creative force and is behind most of the hand drawn elements in the show. Anastasia set about doodling and drawing, scribbling and making little personal bits all over the sets. The idea was to show a life lived in these spaces. We love stuff and our stuff (much like our clothes) show the world who we are.

Charlie’s house wanted to continue on the theme of being relaxed and creative. We wanted to create a connection to Charlie’s bedroom with a more grown up feel to it. The house needed to be familiar and cosy - we settled on the idea of his parents, much like Charlie being worldly people who had collected a variety of things in their lives. Peoples homes and bedrooms are often nests where they bring objects back from their experiences out in the world. Human beings are brilliant collectors of stuff and we try to show this when we work on sets for any project.

We set about buying in a load of artifacts from their travels, lots of terracotta and memorabilia from Europe. We thought about trinkets they may have brought home from a holiday to put on Kitchen surfaces, bits and pieces Charlie’s Dad may have collected over time on the fireplace in the living room. Teapots and vases, jugs and magnets - all sorts! I found a patterned sofa on eBay that I thought looked super comfy and something his mum would have bought when they moved in. Maybe something to bring gentle nostalgia for that iconic scene where Charlie is asleep on the Sofa with Nick.

I think the whole vibe of the house is that they’ve been there since Charlie and Tori were kids. There’s something about an old house that is so warm and lovely rather than something new and clean looking that can be a bit more hostile as an environment. Rather than going heavy with pattern, we worked with variations on tone and colour shades within ceramics and various pieces of wood furniture with knocks and deep wood grain to look like they had lived a life. We carried this through to slouchy cushions and floppy tropical plants, everything we put into the space was to create a sense of warmth, the sets here were almost sunkissed.

Nick’s room wanted to be a contrast to Charlie’s. In Charlie’s bedroom we see a lot of personal creativity in the objects he surrounds himself with. It’s almost like his Mum has decorated it for him and he’s added personal touches as a layer on top of that. We start our story with Nick not really knowing much about his sexuaility, so we wanted to add heteronormative touches to his room to ground his Character visually.

Our King of Rugby has a lot of trophies and sports medals. We dressed Robots on the window sill, Tin Spaceships and sports themed games, metal gridded shelving, Aeroplanes hanging from the ceiling and of course a load of hoodies everywhere - it’s a boys bedroom. There are a few bits from when he was younger but we thought maybe his mum had had a good clear out and a redecorated as he grew up. He even has a double bed!

As with all our sets, when we have hard surfaces we needed to cosy it up a bit and we do this here with soft linen curtains, throwback bedding and a slouchy corduroy beanbag. I especially loved Alice’s ‘Straight boy puts up one string of fairy lights for Christmas and never takes them down’ vibe.

Of course, there’s buckets of personality in Nick’s bedroom too but we wanted it to be less free flowing and fluid than Charlie’s. Knowing Nick’s mum was a Doctor we thought there had to be a sense of formality and style to the space to contrast with Charlie’s wholly creative and organic environment. The most ‘out there’ this room gets is the bright yellow sunglasses hanging on the peg board! Crazy Nick ;) There’s more structure to the objects we put into this space, less eclectic and more scandinavian design themes - block colours and cleanly shaped objects in light wood, chrome and frosted perspex. I think this sets the tone for a teen who seemingly has his life together and allowed us to strike that distinction when he realises it may be taking a turn in a different (but fabulous) direction as our story develops. I guess it depends on how much you think ‘stuff’ defines a person.

We had the challenge of bringing life a few more amazingly detailed bedroom sets for the other Characters in our story. We knew we wanted a Top-Shot of Darcy’s room and that they were super super expressive as a person. We set about finding all sorts of things to have on their bedroom floor that they could lay amongst from toys to clothes through to random bits of bedding from their childhood and even some fun fairy lights and streamers to throw into the mix. Elles bedroom was a bit more refined, she’s a talented artist so we made a load of doodles and paintings to put on the wall. The fun part was getting variations between the bedrooms and this comes through in the detail the team put into the sets.

Tao’s bedroom was bursting with Polaroid photos and amazing Artwork made by our in house Graphic Designer Mike Cranston. For this set, Tim wanted to push through that Tao was a film lover so we collected a load of vintage equipment, old cameras and even wire sculptures of cameras to dot around his bedroom. Tim found a gridded wallpaper to use as the base to line up all the wall elements with and it flowed from there - LED lighting behind the bed, cool perspex shelves to display his collection of cameras on - it all came together and was the perfect setting for Tao and Elle’s movie night together!

Tara’s bedroom was one of my favourites - the script said she was surrounded by stuffed toys - so we went to town and covered her entire bed in 40 teddy bears! We also got to work on a snippet of Isaacs bedroom as he sits against a wall (classically) head in a book! With all of the sets, we tried to get a lived in look going by washing bedding on a high heat and leaving out to air dry and putting them on the beds unironed. It’s all in the detail!

Harry’s 16th Birthday party is where it all comes together so we had to make it fabulous! When Designer Tim asked us to arrange Balloons all over the exterior of this magical building I knew exactly who to call. Our fabulous Balloon Queen Jane and team were up for the task! We had some coloured balloon samples sent to our office and plotted out where the balloons would go on a print out of the building. There were 1000’s of Balloons inflated indoors the day before filming and then were strung out of windows for the shot when Charlie arrives at the party in his dad’s car.

Another challenge on this set was to recreate Floral arrangements from the books when Charlie and Nick have their first kiss. I took note of Alice’s illustrations and I knew Jenny Tobin (Florist to the stars!) could do them justice. We referenced Daisies and meadow flowers with their big relaxed droopy heads and floppy leaves. It was important to us the florals were friendly and approachable instead of stiff and corporate. Charlie and Nick run off to find a quiet spot to catch up at the party and we wanted to try and match the florals here to Alice’s Illustrations as best we could in real life. A lot of thought goes into everything we put on screen and most of the florals in Heartstopper are Jenny’s brilliant work.

Towards the end of our shoot schedule, in the middle of Summer we started work on the Herne Bay / Pier sets. Our designer Tim had some amazing mood boards of truly British Seaside scenes so we set about pulling in all the various items we’d need to recreate that. Our production buyer Zoe found some fantastic sealife balloons that we thought harked back to our Art Classroom sculptures (we love a throwback reference!) and we filled baskets with all sorts of things you’d find at the seaside. From buckets and spades, through to pool noodles and parasols - if its on a beach we had it.

One of the final scenes we filmed was the merry-go-round fairground ride that was (inside scoop!) filled with crew!! Safe to say, by the 5th time round I was feeling like I was about to vomit but it was far too late to get off as we were already filming and I was right in the back of shot.

Of course there are plenty of other sets that we worked on for the show that I haven’t gone into detail about but overall we worked to create a fully realised splash of queer teen British loveliness throughout. I was continually humbled by the 110% our team put into every day at work on this project, we really were all working at a million miles per hour to make the visual the best we could and try to do Alice’s brilliant world justice.

All said and done, I hope our side of the story has come through in the props and set dressing for the better! It was a massively exciting project to work on and myself and our fantastic production buyer Zoe felt a huge responsibility to Alice, the fans and the LGBTQI+ community to inject as much vibrancy and life into these sets as we could. We knew from the start how groundbreaking this show would be for Netflix and our community as a whole. We made sure we took extra care selecting every one of the thousands of items we put into the sets and felt so lucky to have Tim, Alice, Patrick, Zorana and Euros to guide us each step of the way.

We could not have done it if it wasn’t for the inspiring framework our designer, Tim Dickel had set out for the visuals for the show - his endless creativity and passion for storytelling is compelling and bursts through every scene! Most importantly, we had a tonne of fun pulling it all together which is really, what it’s all about.

As always with the LGBT+ projects I work on, we stand on the shoulders of the giants who have come before us and we pay immense gratitude to everyone in the queer space past and present who have created work to better the community we all belong to.

#heartstopper #heartstopper series #Maxwell fine #set decoration #I have lifted the photos and text directly from the web post because I couldn't find a source anywhere else #I just wanted to hold it as reference #there's nothing quite as fascinating as the character of the sets inside a show/movie #it's all in the little details - and to fill a set you need HUNDREDS and nothing has gotten in there just by accident #I could pore over sets for hoursss if I was allowed and to listen to every item being talked about for the why and who and where of it all #SIGN ME UP. #I love that the carousel scene at the end is mostly cast because what a gem of a scene to highlight the growth and the build and the coming #together of nick and Charlie to that point in time #and in terms of the show itself - they couldn't have had that without the incredible team involved #also see me LOVING how Maxwell Fine talks about the differences between nick andcharlie's bedrooms and the thoughts on those UGH YES #set design

[helluvapoison]

heyy i was wondering if you could do like Lucifer x reader getting married if ,you want to ofc🫶

btw i love your work so muchh, thank you!!🫶(also english is not my first language so i hope i didn't write anything wrong)

Absolutely I Do

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

a little insight to your wedding with the king

[part ii (18+ only)]

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

• What would be a tamer version of a bridezilla? Not quite lashing out at everyone and their mother over the tiniest details but blowing a fuse when white roses arrive and he specifically asked for white gardenias?

• That would be Lucifer

• Asmodeus is his best man and the other Sins are his groomsmen, they’ll handle the flower debacle and any other matter that needs saving

• Good natured Charlie was given, arguably, the easiest task of holding onto the rings! She’s more than capable of planning the entire event on her own (and she asked to… twice) but Lucifer wanted her to enjoy this wedding as he wouldn’t be having another

• It’s part of why he wants this to go perfectly!

• He never thought he’d find another love after Lilith. He didn’t even realize that while you were delicately filling in the crater she’d left, he was falling more and more in love with you

• The other part, his pride and perfectionism aside, is that while it may be his second wedding, it’s your first. In his eyes you deserve only the best and he’ll be damned all over again if he doesn’t deliver

• You told your fiancé (FUCK he loved that word coming out of your mouth, almost as much as he was going to like husband!) to at least try to not go overboard. To which you received a “Me? Overboard? Darling, I would never! Simple and elegant, that’s what the headlines will say!”

• The many, many, many vision boards said otherwise. However you already knew damn well “simple and elegant” translated to grandeur and extravagant– and that’s exactly what it was. To Lucifer’s credit, it wasn’t gaudy or blinding. It really was a gorgeous spectacle

• Per his request it’s an all white event, a stark contrast to the overall location. The guest list is massive. After all, Lucifer’s still a king and certain people would be offended if they missed an occasion like this. Everyone goes all out. Bodies pour into chairs, everyone dripping head to toe in white garments and glamorous jewels

• Lucifer preened and primped, checking the mirror a couple hundred times and asking whoever was in the room if he looked ok. Anything less than “outstanding” had him groaning as he turned back to the mirror

• The wedding suddenly seems like a terrible idea. Not because he has cold feet (he’s rather sweaty, actually) but because the moment he sees you he just wants to steal you away

• You are positively and wholly breathtaking. The stars are jealous over how you outshine them! He can’t do anything but stare in amazement as you walk down the aisle

• Does he, Lucifer Morningstar, vow to protect, love, cherish and serve you for all eternity? Undoubtedly. He adds a few his own too like spoil you rotten, compliment you hourly, never ever never let you feel like you’re alone— all things he’s already done but wanted to make it “official”

• “It’s been an honor to be your confidant and friend… but I’m dying to do that and more as your husband.”

• Then do you take him to have and to hold, for better or worse, richer or poorer?

• “I do.” You answer proudly, squeezing his hands ever so slightly

• Forgetting present company, forgetting he’s a king and supposed to act dignified, Lucifer doesn’t wait to get permission to kiss you. He jumps slightly, knowing you’ll catch him instantly. Hugging your neck he crashes his lips onto yours

• You giggle against him, returning the kiss briefly before setting him down. (Hell knows he’d get carried away and forget much more if you didn’t)

• “I do believe you’re my husband now, Luci.”

• The entire wedding may as well have been a surprise party the way his eyes widened, as if it only just set in what the ordeal was for

• “Oh my golly, I’m your husband. I’m your husband! Hey everybody, I'm their husband!”

~

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ don’t apologize, you did great friend! thank you so mochi and i hope you enjoy

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar imagine #hazbin hotel headcanon #lucifer morningstar headcanon #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader

[thankskenpenders]

Happy new year, everyone! Welcome to 2024, the year that will mark the 10th anniversary of Thanks Ken Penders. I'd like to go over my plans for the blog for this year.

First of all: in the very near future, I'll have a post with my thoughts on Sonic Dream Team, and I'm sure I'll write one last Sonic Prime review once the final episodes drop on the 11th. I've also been sitting on an unfinished piece about the Sonic LEGO sets. I wanted this to be longer and more detailed piece that not only reviewed the sets but also went into the weird disconnect between homogenized image of Sonic the Brand and the actual fiction it's based off of, but it'll probably end up getting cut down a lot just so I can put something out. Let's just say I did a fun little thing with one of the sets.

Second: yes, I would like to return to regular TKP updates this year. As I've said many times, I wanted to do this in 2023, but I've been suffering from creative burnout after finishing SLARPG and have generally been unable to focus on any of my creative goals this past year. I'm hoping that this year will be better and I'll be able to get back into the swing of covering Archie Sonic issues. Even doing one issue every week or so would be vastly preferable to continuing the hiatus. I'm still only halfway done!! But aside from burnout, my other main hurdle is that I need to reread my own archive to refresh myself on all these things after nearly three years away. This will take some time.

The thing is, though, this year I'll have an extra incentive to go back through my previous writing and brush up on all things Archie Sonic. Because you see...

I've decided that I want to make a video essay about Penders. The comics, the copyright battle, The Lara-Su Chronicles, everything.

The why

I've thought about doing this before, but I never committed to the idea. I was too busy with gamedev, or I thought it'd end up being too long, or I figured that there were already enough videos on the subject, or I just lacked confidence in my ability to put together a video essay. So I told myself it wasn't meant to be, and let the multiple YouTubers who have cited me as a source on their own Penders videos fill that void.

Recently, though, a few things have happened that have convinced me it might be time. For one, YouTube video essays/media retrospectives/etc. are just getting longer and longer. When Quinton Reviews is out here doing 21 hours of videos on Sam & Cat, a subpar Nick sitcom that only lasted one season, I don't feel so crazy for wanting to make a video about several hundred comic books and two lawsuits that'd be at least an hour or two long lmao. Admittedly, I've also been self-conscious about doing a long video essay like this as a trans woman who has yet to do any vocal training. But these days I feel like I see a lot more transfem YouTubers who have done little to no vocal training, and that's given me more confidence on that front.

But the big one was Hbomberguy's recent plagiarism video. As I sat there watching it, I kept thinking about the time I found a CBR article that was just a crude 800 word summary of my two previous articles on Penders, published by a CBR writer who's put out over 4000 articles since 2019. If I've already been plagiarized before, and my writing is so frequently passed around as a go-to source on Archie Sonic drama, then I wouldn't be shocked if there were YouTubers out there straight up just plagiarizing me. I don't watch other peoples' videos on Archie Sonic, so I'd never know! So if people are just gonna paraphrase me when covering these topics anyway, why not take matters into my own hands and make what I would consider to be the definitive video on the subject? If hacks like James Somerton and iilluminaughtii can churn out these shitty video essays and people will still watch them, surely it can't be that impossible to make my own, right? (And also, uh, Hbomb literally told me I should make the video lol. If you're reading this, thanks for the encouragement.)

The what, how, and when

So here's the plan.

Part of this video essay will be an adaptation of my Medium article on the recurring themes of Ken's Archie Sonic run, with its content touched up and expanded upon. There were a few things I skimmed over in the article because I didn't want it to get too long, but again, people are out here watching ten hour videos about bad Nickelodeon sitcoms now. I can get away with elaborating a little more. I can add a few paragraphs talking about the Chaos Knuckles arc, or throw in a little more historical context I've discovered in the years since.

After covering the comics, the back half(-ish?) of the video will be dedicated to the copyright battles and their ensuing controversies, trying to give an accurate picture of what actually went down, the sheer scale of how bad Archie fucked up, and what our takeaways should be. This will have some similarities to my New York Magazine article on the subject, but I'll be rewriting it from scratch. I REALLY had to keep things short for that article because I was already way over the expected word count, and my tone was a little more straight-laced than normal because I was trying to keep things Professional. I can riff more and insert more of my own opinions this time, like I normally would.

I'll inevitably have to touch on some of Ken's Bad Tweets when discussing things that have happened after the lawsuits, but I don't want the video to just devolve into a list of times people got mad at him on Twitter, so I'm gonna try to keep that to a minimum in favor of focusing on his actual work. Things like the Scourge the Speed Demon incident and his continued statements on certain characters' copyright statuses probably warrant mentioning, though. And finally, assuming that the book really does come out this summer, I would like the grand finale of the video to be about those first couple chapters of The Lara-Su Chronicles.

I don't currently know when this video will get done, but it'll probably be in the back half of the year, especially with me waiting for the book to either drop or get delayed yet again. But I've actually already started writing a bit of the script, and will keep chipping away at it for a while.

So, uh, yeah, look forward to that? Wish me luck?

#tkp post

[ganondoodle]

was watching another totk video and through that found out what the reward is for completing koltins quests, honestly im not really surprised but also baffled and it really just shows, once again, that totk kinda does exactly what you shouldnt do in a sequel imo.. double down on all the bad stuff of the previous title

at this point i have talked about various problems in detail but i just keep realizing over and over just how much of the wrong lesson they seemed to take from botw, they recycled almost everything from botw by changing some paint or some words, made a giant game even bigger and filled it with boring and tedious busy work that has mediocre to insulting rewards EVEN MORE than botw

game too big and empty? make it TWICE as big, change barely anything about the map of the previous title and the new added map(s) is ONE biom that almost everywhere looks the same and even emptier with little to do

too many krogs? MAKE IT MORE and double down on the literally shit reward bc its the SAME just with one more stack of shit

too many shrines with short puzzles? ADD EVEN MORE and make them even shorter and easier to complete, alot of them not even involving a puzzle and multiple being an utterly out of place tutorial that could have been explained to you in a single text box

rewards in the overworld being mostly either a krog or a shrine which gets repetetive with shrines being ALOT and krogs being wayyy too many? add even MORE shrines and EVEN MORE krogs, but now add over a hundred of caves to it that all get repetetive after just a few of them and you only do them for a shrine or a currency you have to collect to get one cool looking but pretty bad to use armor set and a piece of cloth for your parasail that you can only use one of at the tiem and to switch have to go back to a specific NPC, theres ghost lights to collect which only serve to yet again buy one armor set from a set of NPCs and ar meaningless afterwards, the light roots dont require you to do anything but walk to them and the reward for finding them all is a "you did it" sticker that doesnt even stick (its useless)

weapons break too quickly? well make the weapons you can find even worse to force you to fuse a material to it so its at all usable BUT IT STILL BREAKS and when it does it breaks not JUST the weapon but ALSO a material, materials that you will need for now EVEN MORE EXPENSIVE armor upgrades too, weapons cannot be rewards anymore either bc they will always have to be fused with something to make them stronger bc none is strong on its own- this also applies to THE MASTERSWORD, something ALSO complained about that it still 'breaks' even after empowering it through the DLC in botw, and now it cant even BE empowered (bc no DLC) unless you fuse soemthing to it (to. the. MASTERSWORD.) EVEN THO EMPOWERIGN THE MASTERSWORD IS THE ENTIRE POINT OF ZELDAS ULTIMATELY MEANING- AND CONSEQUENCELESS SACRIFICE !!

the dungeons were to samey and simple? make them look different but keep the core structure (activate terminals in completely seperate from each other "puzzles", fight boss) while also makign them be even more skippable (climable walls, the ceiling jump ability- something the titans DIDNT have) with incredibly easy bossfights that end with an embarassing copy and paste scene that hits you over the head with long known and obvious information over and over

people didnt like how the story was so detached from everything in the present? well, make the story and the present EVEN MORE detached from anything in the present, so far in fact that there is literally no connection to it aside from zelda who is the only connective thread and is also only treated as such (she is as personality lacking as sonia as soon as shes yoinked into the past) and the suddendly and out of nowhere intruduced architecture and history that wasnt a thing in botw but is treated like it was always there

people didnt like how far botw was detached from all other zelda games? ok totk is not only FURTHER detached from those it also completely detached itself from its on predecessor :)

people didnt like the memory system? ok make it WORSE then, its a linear story now that you can ruin by seeing even one out of order, they are super short and dont give you anymore context to anythign than the things you could figure out yourself or were already told really, instead of giving you views into a characters personality you get to view a basic plot summary of a story that is so flavorless and predictable i knew what would happen from the start yet acts like its being vague and cool that i felt like i was beign treated like a literal toddler

too few enemy types? well, we will reuse the old ones EVEN MORE thant before over twice the map and the new ones that are there are either utterlly irrelevant to change up the gameplay or largely feel like the old ones just with a paint job (constructs), the griocks looked cool at first but are just a more annyoing version of the lynels (who feel like an actual duel, akin to a proper boss)

even the things that were adressed, or attempted to, didnt fully work, like the bosses ARE more unique, but also still so incredibly easy and ALSO have multiple duplicats just sitting around in the underground despite them being supposedly the root of the problems of the regions (i like refighting bosses, but id rather have a character that lets me choose ok i wann fight this one again and teleporte me into a vision or sth- also the most fun fights arent even part of it (koga) )

the rain complaint got a new effect type to counteract it, which ... doesnt work well, you need specific materials to make potions with that effect which you also need to upgrade the only armor set wit hthat effect that ONLY works once you upgrade it (i think ... i dont know how high i got it but if even the full upgraded set doesnt negate the rain effect i will not be surprised either lol) also it adds just yet another effect type that spams your inventory and you dont really need .... or i might be the only one that saw no value at all in the "attack up when hot" new type of effects bc it felt so specific and situational while also having a way better option (just make it a standard attack up thing?) at least in my eyes-

... ill stop here .... this got longer again didnt it O-o

#ganondoodles talks #zelda #totk #ganondoodles rants #YET AGAIN #aaaaaaand i wasted all my evening #this was supposed to be a half joking short post #but i keep getting into ranting #hhhhhhhhhhrrrrrrraaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[prettylittlels]

Special Night

summary: while performing your latest song, Houdini, at the Golden Globes, your performance drives people crazy.

(tom blyth x singer!reader)

a/n: this song has been stuck in my head for the past few weeks and i needed to make a scenario w it. hope you like it!

ps: i'm akso running out of ideas so please send requests!!!

🪻🪩🌃🔮🎶

Tonight, I'm going to perform at the golden globes gala. My latest song, Houdini, has captured everyone's attention and soared thorugh the billboard Top 100. The problem isn't performing the song: I know every lyric and practised every detail of the choreography to the brim. The problem is who I'm performing it to. Hundreds of celebrities I admire and thousands and thousands of people around the world are going to be watching me sing.

-Y/n!- my manager interrupts my thoughts -You're on in two-

-Thanks, Diane - I say back, and start my vocal exercises.

In the middle of my preparation, I listen the host of the night announce my appearance. I smoothen out my little black dress and, slowly, I make my way to the stage. The lights are low and I still can't see anything farther than the edge of the stage. My earbud informs me the song will start in 3, 2, 1...

I come and I go

Tell me all the ways you need me

I'm not here for long

Catch me or I go Houdini

The crowd immediately starts roaring as the song plays for the first time. My choreography is catching everyone's eye. I feel the confidence soaring inside of me. This wasn't so bad as I thought it would be, huh?

I come and I go

Prove you got the right to please me

Everybody knows

Catch me or I go Houdini

The celebrities in front of me stand up one by one and dance to the rythm of the music. Since I was well known for interacting a lot with fans during concerts, why not do the same thing now?

Time is passin' like a solar eclipse

I descend the stairs in one of the stage's corners and the crowd screams even more. Searching for someone to dance with, I find first Anya Taylor Joy, dressed in a beautiful pale blue gown, singing along with me.

See you watchin' and you blow me a kiss

It's your moment, baby, don't let it slip

Come in closer, are you readin' my lips?

I make eye contact with her and blow her a kiss, following the lyrics. Her cheeks go red and laughs with me. I go closer to her and keep on singing along, until I signal to her to look at the camera and strike a pose with me.

They say I come and I go

Tell me all the ways you need me

I'm not here for long

Catch me or I go Houdini

I come and I go

Prove you got the right to please me

Everybody knows

Catch me or I go Houdini

Moving on from Anya, I walk up a couple tables more. Next, I set my eyes on Pedro Pascal, dancing to the rythm with his eyes closed. I look surprised and the camera points towards where I'm looking. The crowd laughs as we dance together.

If you're good enough, you'll find a way

Maybe you could cause a girl to change her ways

Do you think about it night and day?

Maybe you could be the one to make me stay

Pedro spins me around sloppily and I sing and I give him a kiss on the cheek and continue walking down the carpeted hall. The choreography makes an appearance again, with a sexy twist: I drop to my knees suddenly and sing the bridge. I get up again and the most beautiful man fills my vision.

Everything you say is soundin' so sweet (ah)

But do you practice everything that you preach? (Ah)

I stare and get closer to him while singing. He sends a big gummy smile towards me and I try to keep my composure. I notice he's sitting next to Hunter Schafer, my good friend. I make a mental reminder to ask her about it later.

I need something that'll make me believe (ah)

If you got it, baby, give it to me

I walk a little more until I'm looking down at his face and bend down while still singing. Out of impulse, I grab his chin gently and bring him in closer so it looks likr we're kissing. Our lips graze each other's and I feel like an electric discharge electrocuted my entire body. I pull away at the last second and continue walking and dancing, trying not to come back to him.

They say I come and I go

Tell me all the ways you need me

I'm not here for long

Catch me or I go Houdini

I come and I go (I come and I go)

Prove you got the right to please me

Everybody knows (I'm not here for long)

Catch me or I go Houdini

Everyone's mouths are open after my little stunt. I smirk to myself and I decide that's it for today.

If you're good enough, you'll find a way

Maybe you could cause a girl to change her ways

Do you think about it night and day?

Maybe you could be the one to make me stay

I go up the stairs one last time to finish off the performance. The people are cheering for me again. But right now, I only care about one of them now. I search for the mystery man with my eyes all over the place, he's nowhere to be found.

I come and I go

Tell me all the ways you need me

I'm not here for long

Catch me or I go Houdini

I come and I go (I come and I go)

Prove you got the right to please me

Everybody knows (I'm not here for long)

Catch me or I go Houdini

Screams and shouts fill the space when I finish the song. The camera focuses on the people who I've danced with and projects it onto the screens. First, Anya appears smiling and waves to the cameraman. Later, Pedro is still giddy from dancing and whoops loudly. Finally, Tom Blyth, as it says on the bottom of the screen, is clapping like everyone else. There are rests of a blush in his cheeks, but when he looks at the camera, he winks at it and lifts his hand with his pinky and thumb up, signaling a phone, mouthing the words "call me".

The camera switches back to me. I blow the last kiss to the audience and, before leaving, I make a "T" with my hands, and after a second I create a heart.

#Spotify #book recommendations #bookworm #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x you #x reader #tom blyth #singer!reader

[one-flower-one-sword]

"Gege, don't panic just yet. I'll repeat those words to you. Give them a listen."

"...Alright," Xie Lian said.

Hua Cheng's memory was exceptional, and he clearly and precisely repeated the words as soon as they left the area where the corpse-eating rats had gathered. Xie Lian stared intently at his lips as he pronounced a series of moderately paced and somewhat bizarre-sounding phrases. The words had a strange, ancient rhythm to them. Hearing them spoken with such steady control through Hua Cheng's lips made the notes deep, beautiful, and pleasing to the ears.

TGCF Volume 5, page 343

Mu Qing rolled all the silk veils into a ball and tossed them to the side, his veins popping slightly. "How would I know? Because all your clothes, accessories, and daily living needs were my responsibility back then. I washed for you, I mended for you - and every item in your wardrobe was unique. These statues are too detailed - everything is there, exactly the same, completely! When I saw those clothes, of course I knew which face they would have!"

TGCF Volume 6, page 50

For he had remembered something else: the tale of the red-clad ghost who set hundreds of civil and martial temples ablaze. Hua Cheng became famous overnight when he defeated thirty-three heavenly officials and obliterated every single one of their temples and shrines across the entirety of the Mortal Realm.

Xie Lian had long forgotten how many heavenly officials had fought him over that blessed land; their titles, their faces, and even the words they said were lost to him. He could only vaguely recall that there were about thirty of them.

TGCF Volume 8, page 24

Was thinking about Hua Cheng's memory while rereading these scenes and how he appears to basically have perfect recall. Yes, we know he can "record" things with his butterflies, but he only seems to be doing so during strategic moments. If he had recorded what the corpse-eating rats were saying, there would have been no need for him to repeat their words himself, but he does. And they were words in a language he could read but not understand when spoken, and he only heard them spoken once and when there was no reason for him to memorize them. And yet he can recall them perfectly.

Xie Lian wonders if the extreme accuracy of the statues' details is because the sculptor's mind was so filled with images of him and only him, and while that's not wrong, I do think it's remarkable that Hua Cheng was able to remember all those intricate details. After all, they're from a time where he mostly was only able to watch over Xie Lian from afar, and even when they were close for once, it was usually during very stressful circumstances. Yet years later, he can still recreate it all perfectly, to a point that, according to Xie Lian, not even Xianle's most renowned sculptors were able to.

Same with the thirty-three heavenly officials - Hua Cheng was a ghost fire during that time and again it were very stressful circumstances where he was actively trying to defend Xie Lian with what little power he had. And yet, even years later, even after he was almost dispersed as Wu Ming and out of his mind, he can apparently recall every single one of their faces and knows exactly who was there. It's a stark contrast to how Xie Lian has no idea anymore even how many there were, much less their names and faces.

Of course, at this point it's been several hundred years, so that's not surprising. Still, there are many moments like these where Xie Lian is confused and taken aback by Hua Cheng's strong reaction to things he himself can barely remember and often doesn't even really think about anymore. That's a multi-layered issue of course - for one thing, trauma messes with memory, and Xie Lian himself has stated things like that he'd rather remember the delicious meat bun he ate the day before than how he'd been trampled to death years ago. For another, Hua Cheng has reason to cling to those memories Xie Lian would rather forget because of his immense anger on Xie Lian's behalf.

This doesn't explain moments like with the corpse-eating rats though, since like previously stated there was no reason for Hua Cheng to actively try and memorize what they were saying. It can thus be extrapolated from these examples that he always remembers everything this precisely, whether he wants to or not, even if he only heard or saw it once, and no matter how much time has passed since then.

On the one hand, this would evidently serve him very well in cases like his worship of Xie Lian or his goals in aiding and protecting him. On the other, this would mean that every moment of suffering he went through - or that Xie Lian went through, which to Hua Cheng is the worst kind of suffering - will forever be present in his mind in perfect detail. To him, it will always be as if it happened just yesterday. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't forget, because there's no "off setting" to his perfect memory, it's always "on" and can't be overwritten.

I think this might also be a small but not insignificant part of what makes up Hua Cheng's palpable intensity and sharpness, and also contributes to the strong emotions he surpresses beneath his controlled exterior.

#tgcf #rereading tgcf #hua cheng

[mnemosyne-nyx]

✨ Bruce Wayne Headcanons that haunt me but I refuse to elaborate on even if they're utterly wrong Pt. 2✨

Going feral over this man

Hal and Bruce almost share a birthday and it fucking infuriates Bruce for no reason.

My guy was a rebellious teenager growing up, you know, trauma baby tings but also wanting to distance himself from the elite society (I mean rich Gotham really is a different cesspool of evilness lmao who can blame the poor guy.) Not to get deep but the beginning of his crusade was him wanting to seek a life and identity beyond the Wayne name right and witness Gotham from all angles. However, after realising he can both honour and build upon his legacy, Bruce destroyed any proof of this phase as he associates it with his turbulent and troubled coming of age. Little does he know there's a box filled with Polaroids within the 73288199 attics of Wayne Manor ready for his kids to find plus his detailed knowledge about the punk scene of Gotham makes them suspicious anyway.

Bruce learns a lot from his children. He may be their mentor but he's definitely learnt acrobatic tricks from Dick Grayson, combat and body language from Cass etc etc. Black Canary one day complimenting an acrobatic move of Bruce's only for him to have learnt it from one 11 year old Dick Grayson.

Bruce knows every nook and cranny of the watchtower. This guy designed, funded and helped build this fucking thing. Superman can hear him fuckin scurrying in the hundreds of boiler rooms, hidden corridors and storage rooms like a human rat. Flash doesn't understand how this man just teleports from one end of the tower to the other not knowing Bruce built trapdoors, hidden passageways, fake walls in this place. Bruce has a hiding spot in the upper levels of the watchtower where a small window gives view to Earth. J'onn is the only leaguer who can rival Batman in his watchtower knowledge.

He is the unofficial caretaker of the justice league. He makes sure all catering and quarters are fully equipped to people's needs. Overhears a leaguer saying there aren't enough vegetarian options? Bam, fully renewed menu. Barry complaining he can't sleep because his quarter is too cold? Bam, temperature risen. Small things like office supplies, medical equipment - he's always taking mental notes of. He knows what leaguer is allergic to what too. Lad keeps the watchtower STOCKED

The League never fails to wish a member a happy birthday. Somehow word always gets out and no one really knows how the date gets around. It's Bruce. He knows everyone's birthdays. Sometimes photogenic memory doesn't work in his favour. When it comes to respect, compassion and love - Bruce isn't the verbal type. He prefers to show it through action - I mean he crusades around Gotham to show his need to protect people for God's sake. Therefore, he sets like a reminder anonymously on the watchtower monitor for some random hero to find.

My guy HATES Asmr.

Bruce's hair is naturally thick and actually pretty darn curly. Superman is renowned for having the curls, but Bruce - with dirty, grown out hair - can give him a run for his money. His curls never show though as he keeps his hair very short and often has it sleeked back in public (as Thomas and Alfred always told him it was neater and more proper that way.)

He is a PERFECT mix between Thomas and Martha. Everyone who ever meets Brucie Wayne for the first time tells him he's the spitting image of both of them.

My man was a heartthrob in the 90s. Dick and Tim frequently Google "Bruce Wayne 90s" and bust a gut laughing at how their old man is like in every fuckin teenage magazine published in that decade.

#batfam #bruce wayne #batman #justice league #brucie wayne #jla #dc comics #dc headcanon #WHY IS THERE LITERALLY NO ADOLESCENT BRUCE LORE WTF?? #Me pondering with my pipe as I reinvent the entirety of the DC universe in my cobwebbed study #Sometimes I like giving batman human emotions so I can imagine Andrew tate fans getting angry at it just to feel something

[angelagiarratana]

The Hundred Dollar Bet

Happy New Year!

You were prepping for the upcoming night with Amanda’s bet hanging over your head. You had confided in Amanda a couple of months back about your feelings for a certain Italian woman…

“I think falling in love is a little dramatic Amanda.” You glared at her and she gave you a knowing look from across your living room. “Y/n you just told me you can’t breathe when she’s close to you because you just want to reach out and touch her.” She looked over her wine glass at you and smirked. You flopped back onto the couch with a loud groan, “What do I even do?” Amanda laughed, “Y/n/n, you tell her.” You shot up. 

“I cannot do that, what if it ruins everything.” You looked sadly at Amanda, pitiful almost. “I promise you won’t. I will bet $100 you won’t, but you have to do it before the year is over.” You looked at the fall decor you just put out across your apartment, 3 months, you could do that, “Fine.”

You decided it was now or never and picked up your phone. You decided to just Facetime her rather than waiting on a reply. 

Ring, ring- 

Angela’s face popped up on your screen. She was obviously sat at her desk working? “Angela! Happy New years!” Angela's heart skips a beat as she hears your greeting. She can't help but feel a surge of happiness knowing you remembered and took the time to wish her a Happy New Year.

“Happy New Year, Y/n! Thank you so much for thinking of me.”

She raises her imaginary glass, playfully toasting to the future, her eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than usual before setting her eyes back on Spork. Secretly, she hopes that this year will bring them closer, and that her subtle attempts to win your affection won't go unnoticed.

“Do you have plans for tonight?” 

Angela's heart flutters with anticipation. She takes a moment to compose herself and respond, trying to keep her excitement in check. “Oh, um, not really. I don't have any concrete plans for tonight.”  She tries to keep her voice casual, even though deep down she hopes you'll invite her to join in on your celebrations.

“I was going to go out with a couple friends if you want to join?”

Her heart skips a beat at your invitation. She tries her best to hide her excitement, but a small smile tugs at the corner of her lips. “Really? I would love to join you and your friends, Y/n! It sounds like a fun way to ring in the New Year.

Her voice carries a mix of joy and nervousness, as she tries to maintain her composure while secretly hoping this could be a chance to spend more time with you outside of work. “10:30 tonight at Sage work for you?” She quickly notes down the details, trying to hide the excitement bubbling inside her.

“Perfect! I'll be there.” You stared at her for a moment, taking in her messy bun and hoodie. She looked perfect. “What dress code are we going for?” You thought for a moment, there was no agreed upon vibe for tonight, “Wear something black.” She smiled, “Black got it. I’ll see you later?” You nodded. 

After the call you jumped into hyper mode, calling your friends to let them know and trying on 14 different outfits. 

“You were so drunk, dude! Don’t try to deny it” Your friends were retelling a story from a few months ago when you felt a hand on your shoulder. Behind you stood Angela wearing black jeans and a sparkly black, tiny, top. She was wearing more makeup than you had ever seen her in, but she looked perfect. Angela took a moment to let her eyes sweep over you, a beautiful white dress adorning your body in a way that hugged your curves just right. The bar is filled with lively music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses.

Throughout the night, Angela subtly finds ways to interact with you, catching your eye during funny moments or sharing inside jokes. She laughs at your jokes a little too loudly, her eyes shining with genuine joy. She's also attentive to your needs, casually offering to grab your favorite drink or checking in on you to make sure you're having a good time. All the while, she tries her best to give you small hints of her feelings, hoping you'll notice and reciprocate.

As the countdown to the New Year begins, Angela leans in closer, her voice filled with excitement.“Can you believe it's almost midnight?” She gently brushes her hand against yours as if by accident, her heart racing with hope that her subtle advances haven't gone unnoticed. You turn to face her, grabbing her hand, “I’m glad you came tonight.”  A rush of emotions fills her. Her heart skips a beat as she feels the warmth of your touch, a mix of surprise and joy spreading across her face. “I’m glad I came too, Y/n.”

Her voice is filled with a mixture of relief and happiness, her eyes locked with yours. In that moment, the loud bar seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you entwined in a shared connection. A shy, yet genuine smile spreads across your lips.

But deep down, you still can't shake off your fears of her not feeling the same way.

As 11:59 came around you took a deep breath, “Angela I need to tell you something?” Angela holding her glass in the other turned to you, “What’s up? Do I have nachos on my face?” You chuckled and shook your head, “No, it’s not that.” Someone from across the bar called out 30 seconds, “Angela I really like you. As in I want to go on dates, and sip wine on your couch. I want to hold your hand and scratch your back. I want to suprise you with flowers and coffee in bed. I want it all with you.” Angela's heart skips a beat as she listens to your heartfelt confession. Her eyes widen with surprise and a mix of excitement and happiness fills her. 

As the clock strikes midnight, the bar erupts into cheers and applause. The room is filled with excitement and Angela grabs your chin, placing her lips on yours. The hand holding the glass snakes around your waist, pulling you into her. You let yourself melt into the kiss, hand falling into her hair. 

When you pull away you rest your forehead on hers, making a mental note to cashapp request Amanda for $100. 

#angela giarratana #smosh #angela giarratana x reader #starkid #angela giarrantana fanfic #nerdy prudes must die #npmd

[ohnococo]

Under the Stars | Ijichi x Reader

Ijichi plans a perfect date, ending in a picnic under the stars.

✦ WC: 1.8k

✦ Warnings: female bodied reader (no pronouns used), established relationship, hiking, bird watching, picnic, alcohol use, kissing, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, creampie

Ijichi loves a plan. It helps him feel relaxed, prepared, excited - even if it was for something that had previously been a source of anxiety for him. So, whenever possible, he makes a plan. Researching, making sure every box is ticked, considering any deviations that might be necessary. By extension, it means that leaving dates up to him is actually an incredibly good idea.

He’s thorough and, as you’d discovered in your time with your sweet lovesick Ijichi, quite romantic at heart.

You shouldn’t really be surprised that he’d planned your date so thoroughly too. You’d known you were going on a hike for weeks, he’d made sure you had everything you needed. Appropriate shoes and clothes, a bag to hold all the things you’d need for a day in the wilderness, and he’d checked the weather report about a hundred times before the day arrived. When your alarm goes off you still don’t quite expect to wake up and find a detailed and laminated itinerary for the day carefully propped up on your bedside table.

First, is breakfast, although you don't need to see the menu he’d carefully typed out in front of you to smell Ijichi’s cooking wafting through the air. Breakfast is a curation of things that will be both filling, and give you the energy for the next item on the itinerary: a hike.

When you begin your journey, it’s just as he’d promised over breakfast - more of a walk than a hike, where he’d made sure the path was both scenic and easy to traverse. Your first stop is a cozy little spot within the trees, with a large oak to settle yourselves by as you enjoy listening to the sound of the birds around you. Ijichi quietly flips through a well-worn book, pointing to each of the birds you can hear in your surroundings. He even pulls out his binoculars, locating them in the trees and letting you take a look.

You didn’t know bird watching could be quite so fun, but Ijichi’s enthusiasm, and his soft hands on yours as he makes sure you’re pointing the binoculars in the right direction, makes it more thrilling than you ever thought such a thing could be.

As the day continues on you can’t help feeling like you and Ijichi were in the midst of forming some very important memories between the two of you. His gentle encouragement as you hop along rocks to cross the stream cutting though the path, holding your breath with wide eyes as a deer and it’s fawn move past the clearing you’d chosen as a resting spot, watching the dragonflies overhead as you dip your feet in the cool waters of the lake before moving along.

It all culminates with the most difficult part of the journey so far as Ijichi helps guide you up a rocky hill, taking a winding path to avoid the steeper inclines. It’s only a few minutes of effort, with the setting sun at your back and the stillness of the coming night already in the air, and then you’re brought to a flat space overlooking much of the forest you’d spent the day in.

Here, he finally unloads the last items stashed deep in the bottom of his backpack. Now, you understand why he’d been carrying a bag much more suited for camping rather than a simple hike, and as he lays things out one by one you find yourself impressed at not just his planning but his strength to have carried all of this. A blanket, snacks, a small lantern to make up for the light lost with the setting sun, and finally a bottle of wine and two collapsible cups.

As you eat you can’t stop thinking of how today was romantic in a soft and considerate way that is so very Kiyotaka Ijichi. Whether it’s the wine the two of you slowly sip at while enjoying the last of the fleeting daylight or the loving heat blossoming in your chest, you begin to feel a little dizzy as your heart starts beating a little faster.

You watch as he peels an apple with his pocket knife. Moments like this are precious to you, when Ijichi’s hands are steady, his mind at ease, knowing everything happening was something he’s fully capable of handling. You alternate eating carefully cut slices, Ijichi always handing you one slightly larger than the pieces he cuts off for himself, before making your way slowly through the rest of the food, and the rest of the small bottle of wine until you’ve both regained some energy.

By now the sun has set long ago, and the fleece jackets that had been tied around your waists come in handy as a little chill sets in with the arrival of early evening. You take the opportunity to scoot closer to Ijichi, moving empty containers aside, letting your legs press to his as you two trade a little warmth.

“Did you have fun?” Ijichi’s voice is hopeful, though it contains a small hint of worry that the answer just might be no.

It only makes your response more enthusiastic, assuring him that it was as perfect as all of his plans were with you. “Yes, so much fun.”

His shoulders relax, as he wraps his arms around his knees, smiling. “I’m glad.”

He looks at you for a moment, or you assume he does as his glasses reflect the moonlight, before he’s turning back to the view below, pointing into the mid-distance. “We’ve gone in a semi-circle.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, see?” He points to a distance not too far away from where you were now. “We started along there then went right the way around,” he moves his arm slowly as he points out the path you’d taken, obscured by the treetops, “so we only have a short distance back out once we get down from here. In case you’re tired.”

The way Ijichi is always so considerate like this has you beaming, looking up at the stars as you sigh happily, “I’m not tired just yet.”

He lets out a little chuckle, gaze following yours then turning back towards you as he looks up at the moon behind you. “Then I’ve planned everything well.”

“Of course you did, Kiyo.” It’s said with a warmth and confidence in his abilities that makes his breath catch just a little, before he’s letting out another chuckle - this time it’s one much more breathy than the last.

You lean back, until the moonlight is no longer reflecting off of Ijichi’s glasses and obscuring his eyes, and see that he’s not looking at the sky as you’d thought. He’s looking at you.

Even in the dark of the night, you can see a blush spread across his cheeks at having been caught staring, but he pushes past that as he leans forward and presses a soft kiss to your lips. The way he enters every kiss with a slight hesitancy has always felt so endearing to you, but now you feel as though your full unhindered affections had been more than earned. You press into him further, deepening the kiss as your lips part and you bring a hand to the back of his neck as you wait for his mouth to do the same.

Once he’s reciprocating his restraint is set aside, tongue slipping into your mouth as well as a soft moan while his hands grip at your sides as though holding you tight would ground him. Your noses brush and his glasses are pushed further up until his lashes are smushed against the lenses, but he doesn’t care. His only move is to lean back, pulling you with him until you’re both laying on your sides and holding each other tightly as you kiss and sigh and run your hands over your bodies.

It’s hasty, and clumsy, and perfect in every way as only the necessary clothes are undone and pushed aside to keep the chill off of your skin while keeping the heat growing between you. You kiss at Ijichi’s neck, skin salty from sweat, as his fingers dip into your warmth, sliding and stroking and touching you in the ways he’s come to know you love until you’re shoving your pants down a little further and rolling onto your other side with your back to him. He takes his place close behind you as you arch your back and spread your thighs enough for him to press his cock into you slowly. Your bodies barely part from there as he no longer needs his hand to guide his length, instead wrapping his arm around you to squeeze at your chest. His motion is more of a slow rock than a thrust, the underside of his length sliding against your sweet spot with perfect pressure as your legs are clamped tightly together.

You twist your head round as Ijichi leans up onto his elbow, trying his best to kiss you as he keeps himself deep inside of you, moaning into your mouth at the first touch of your tongue against his in this position. With the two of you feeling like the only people on this earth, or in these woods at least, it’s as if your panting and moaning was the only thing filling the night air. Eventually, the wet sound of your lovemaking is met with Ijichi’s hips slapping against your ass as he finally starts pulling back enough to slide back in with more power.

His moans turn to whimpers as you reach behind your joined bodies, gripping his tensing ass tightly as your rock back into his thrusts. It forces him to tear his eyes off of your face for the first time since he’d slid inside of you, watching your ass ripple slightly with the force of your movements. As your moans get higher he whines in frustration as his gaze flickers from where the two of you meet to your face - your lips parted and eyes closed as you’re lost in pleasure. He wants to see all of you at once, but as you both grow close he decides on your face, pressing wet kisses to your cheek and open mouth.

Choked breaths meet with your moans as Ijichi tries his hardest to keep his pace despite the clenching in his stomach and the pull of his balls below. Once a pressure of your own has built to its peak and you start to clench around him he cries out with both relief and pleasure as you cream around his length. His thrusts are deep, sloppy, stuttering as he fills you with his cum, opened mouthed kisses meeting your cheek as he pulls you close to him.

His hips keep rocking as if on their own accord despite your orgasms subsiding, thrusts shallow and without rhythm, until your hand on his hip and a kiss to the tip of his nose steadies him. He nuzzles at your neck, catching his breath, holding you close, staying inside of you as long as he can just as he always does.

Ijichi smiles and his breaths ease as his cock softens inside of you. “We should stay here for a while, so we can miss the traffic on the way back to the city.”

You return his smile tenfold, “Sounds like a plan.”

#reminder minors and ageless blogs get blocked #my writing #ijichi x you #kiyotaka ijichi x reader #ijichi x reader #Ijichi x y/n #Kiyotaka Ijichi x you #ijichi kiyotaka x reader

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

Of Magic, Miracles, and Moonlight

a Stephen Strange x OFC Romance

genre: pre-Infinity War, slow burn romance, older man/younger woman, teacher/student to friends to lovers characters: Stephen Strange, Wong, Teyla of Hadeeth (OFC), Moraine of Hadeeth (OC), additional OCs as Kamar-Taj staff rating: general audience to begin with, later chapters contain 18+ material

Ngl - I'm really hoping some of the authors in the Doctor Strange x Reader community will be kind enough to give this a read.🥺🥺 Even more so, a reblog - because I'm quite proud of my writing in this work, and I believe it deserves some love. Maybe some love could see me on my way to updating, even finishing, this WIP. It's lain fallow for far too long!

Chapter One

“Stephen, it’s nearly time.”

Wong’s voice pulled him from his scrutiny of the thick, weathered tome that had become his latest project.  Since the passing of his mentor, the Ancient One, Stephen Strange was one of very few left in Kamar-Taj who made a regular practice of studying the advanced manuscripts, spell books, and obscure histories, which she had amassed during her centuries of service as the Sorcerer Supreme.  His eidetic memory served him equally well in this pursuit, as it had in his previous vocation; as one of the world’s most talented and successful neurosurgeons he had learned the lesson early on—that knowledge was power—though the power he sought now he would wield for a even nobler purpose than those of his previous life.  

“Remind me, Wong…it’s nearly time for…” Stephen let his voice trail off with the question, focusing just a few moments more on the script marking the page before him.

“For the arrival of the emissary from Hadeeth, Stephen,” Wong replied, “As well you know.  Need I remind you that our alliance with Hadeeth goes back nearly four hundred years?”

“Not at all, Wong.  I’m acutely aware—down to the smallest minutiae—of the terms of our accord the with the Hadeethans, having familiarized myself with every scrap of parchment the Ancient One left behind, detailing the particulars of our relationship.”  Strange closed the leather-bound book before him, stretched a mite, and then rubbed thumb and forefinger upon his closed eyelids. “I’ve got a rotten case of eyestrain in the process, but I suppose I’m as ready for this as I can ever be,” he grumbled, “Although I’m not entirely certain why I have to be the one to meet with their envoy.  A Master with years of experience—and not one with barely twelve months--would surely make a better representative of Earth. Let alone Kamar-Taj.”

Refusing to be pulled back into the ongoing debate, Wong remained impassive.  “Of the Masters left in Kamar-Taj, you are the best qualified by virtue of your life experience.  And in the absence of a Sorcerer Supreme, a Master of one of our Sanctums is the best that we can offer.” 

He clapped Stephen on the shoulder, “Accept that you’re destined for this bit of diplomacy, Stephen.  It can’t be anywhere near as complicated as navigating your way through the human brain to excise a pin point sized tumor.”

Strange rose to his feet, favoring Wong with a scowl, “As usual, Wong, your vote of confidence is underwhelming—but I will do my best not to provoke a diplomatic incident with an ally that has had Earth’s back for hundreds of years, and in some hairy situations.”

A young attendant placed the tray with fresh-brewed tea and a sampling of Nepalese delicacies on the low table before him.  Without a word, she filled a cup with the hot liquid, and set it down beside the pot, before sliding a plate of almond honey cakes closer at hand to him.  Stephen nodded, murmuring his thanks—though he was a little too nervous to partake of one of his favorite dishes.  Instead, he stirred a bit of honey into his tea, briefly reflecting on the first cup of honeyed tea he had partaken in this very room, barely more than a year ago.  With a shock to his system, he had been quickly educated as to how very much he did not know about the world, the universe, and the human mind and spirit; and since then, he had learned much more than he would ever had imagined of things he’d never even entertained as plausible.  He considered himself a work in progress, truly humbled for the first time in his life, when he took into account how much he still did not know.

Yet, he had earned the respect of his peers here and—just moments before her death--the Ancient One had appointed him Master of the New York Sanctum.  Strange took that responsibility ever seriously, having seen and experienced for himself the sort of assaults from other dimensions which Earth would be prey to were it not for the ancient protections provided by the band of sorcerers, bound in service to mankind.

The man he once was—before the accident that had deprived him of his livelihood, and the purpose by which he defined himself—Doctor Stephen Strange had the hubris to consider himself the best his specialty had ever known, and the ambition to pursue the loftiest positions of influence and power in his field.  Now, as he split his time between New York and Nepal, he was in a constant quest for knowledge that would enable him to do this job to the best of his ability, while never seeking glory for himself.  He would not—could not, in fact—allow himself to aspire to the title of Sorcerer Supreme…although more often than not these days, he was given--by some silent agreement (to which he was no party)--the deference and the responsibilities that came with that designation.  Today, he would prefer to be a mere rank and file mage—but he could not turn his back upon the service that was asked of him.

Stephen rose when Wong appeared in the entrance way, ushering a stately, robed woman into the room.  “Master Strange, allow me to present Mistress Moraine of Clan Kayolo, member of the Hadeethan Ruling Council,” Wong gave her a nod of respect, before moving to Stephen’s side.    

Following the formal protocol which the Ancient One had chronicled, Strange bowed at the waist before speaking.  “Welcome to Kamar-Taj, Mistress Moraine of Hadeeth.  We are honored by your presence, and offer hospitality and friendship to you, and any others under your protection, for however long you sojourn here.”

She bowed in reply, and recited her opening remarks smoothly, her rich voice that of a woman accustomed to oratory, “The honor is mine, Sir.  On behalf of my people, and in the name of our alliance, I accept your hospitality, Master Strange.”  Moraine paused, studying him closely, before adding, “May the worlds we serve continue to benefit from our partnership.”

Strange motioned her to take a seat, then sat himself, while Wong moved forward to pour tea for the Hadeethan woman; the ensuing silence enough to allow Stephen an observation or two.  She was definitely dignified (royalty was the first word that came to his mind), aloof and otherworldly; she wore her thick, silver hair loose and unadorned, for surely nothing could flatter her more than it’s natural glory; and the only subtle sign of age he could discern, were small crinkles at the corners of her pale grey eyes--but since he knew the average Hadeethan lifespan was upwards of 150 Earth years, they gave no clue regarding her actual age.  There was a palpable feel of strength of will about her, as though her spine were made of steel.  Moraine appeared—in short—to be a power to be reckoned with.  He vowed to tread carefully regarding whatever topic she had arrived to discuss.

She sipped her tea, then nodded her approval, “Ah…it’s been far too long since I sampled this welcoming taste of Kamar-Taj.  Though I regret I shall never raise my cup with the Ancient One again.”

“Her loss remains a heavy one for us to bear, Mistress Moraine,” he replied, a truth he felt most keenly every day, “And nothing would make me happier than for her to be here in my place.”

“I bear the condolences of my people for the dread passing of a wise leader and constant ally,” she told him, “And for myself, I share in your grief; for I had known the Sorcerer Supreme from my youth—as a teacher, then a mentor, and at the last, a friend.”

“I envy you that,” he admitted, “We all miss her guidance—but we have done our best to go forward as we believe she would see fit.”

Moraine narrowed her eyes, looking for the truth in his reaction, “And you do not seek to guide in her place?  To bear the mantle she wore for centuries?”

Stephen shook his head vehemently, “I assure you, I am not that man.  And honestly, I can’t think of anyone who could fill her shoes.”

She nodded, pleased with his reply, than raised her cup.  “It is always so with the best of leaders.  May we all do her proud in the service we provide to our worlds.”

“May we indeed,” he echoed, drinking from his cup as well.

Formalities now aside, Moraine was swift to reveal the surprising purpose of her visit.  “I come on a personal matter, Master Strange.  ‘Tis my hope you will entertain my request, if not for the sake of relations between our worlds, but for she whom we both miss.”

“I am certain we can accommodate you, Mistress Moraine.  The resources of Kamar-Taj are at your service.” 

“Even as I had anticipated,” she asserted, wearing a small relieved smile, “As you may know, Hadeeth has a good share of practitioners of the mystic arts.  And in our culture, this is a thing well-known, even aspired to.  In fact, by long standing tradition, the majority of those who sit on our ruling council are skilled in magic.”

Strange nodded, having gleaned those facts from the Ancient One’s notes, “Magic being the primary reason our worlds are well-suited as allies.”

Moraine bobbed her head in a brief acknowledgement, then continued, “On Hadeeth, we have found that the aptitude for magic, and the strength to wield it properly, are most prevalent in certain bloodlines.  As a result, it is not uncommon for a particular clan to hold a council seat for several generations.”

“I take it that is your own experience,” he inferred.

“It is, Master Strange.  But seats are not granted automatically—and those aspiring to them must pass a series of tests, unique to the individual.”

“And these tests involve the use of magic?”

“Exactly so—and thus arises my need for your assistance,” she admitted.

A bit perplexed, he might’ve asked, but Moraine had anticipated his question.  “Not for myself, Master Strange—for my daughter, Teyla.”  And then surprising him, she added, “A daughter of both our worlds.”

Not having known such a mingling of their races was even possible, it took a moment for him to respond, “You’re asking that we train her here, in Kamar-Taj?”

Moraine’s face took on a pleasant sort of softness, clear sign of the depth of her feelings for her child.  “She has ever been my greatest treasure, and from the moment in which I discerned that she possessed aptitude for the mystical arts, I had planned to entrust my own best teacher with her tutelage.”  She lowered her eyes, her voice become sorrow-tinged, “Who could have anticipated that such a plan would go unrealized?”

Stephen remained speechless, moved by her quiet show of grief.  In the months since the Ancient One fell, he had learned things about her he had never expected—always making him long for the fruits of the wisdom she might have shared with him.

Having set aside her sorrow, Moraine looked to him again, firm of purpose, “Teyla’s skill--her strength—lies in the healing of body, mind, and heart.  And though this ability is a miracle in itself, it does not suit well the sort of trials she is likely to face in the fullness of time.”

The doctor in him wanted to ask more of Hadeethan healing magic, but the situation would not allow for it—though he made a promise to himself to learn more of their practices when possible, with an eye towards the exchange of knowledge that might enable him to fulfill again that purpose of more than half his lifetime.  “What training would best prepare your daughter for these future trials?”

Moraine looked please at his show of willingness, “She will need to develop defensive skills, for both her own safety, and for those who may someday fall under her protection.”  She paused, gauging his reaction, and then concluded, “Teyla also possesses a small degree of prescience, although she is not yet capable of employing it at will.  She dreams, yet cannot tell when the images may come to pass; she has strong, yet unpredictable, flashes of intuition, which she finds difficult to interpret.  This gift is useless to her until she can cultivate the proper wisdom and discipline.”

“There are no teachers on Hadeeth that might guide her?” he asked, “Seers are rare, even in Kamar-Taj.  I can’t guarantee our knowledge is enough to guide her beyond the most rudimentary training.”

“They are rarer still, on Hadeeth,” Moraine shrugged, “So rare they come but a handful of times in each generation.  Though I am her mother, I haven’t even a touch of that gift.”   

Stephen nodded, considering her request a moment.  “We will do our best, Mistress Moraine—but in this case, I can make no promise.”

“I understand, Master Strange.  And with this understanding, I will entrust you with Teyla’s further education.  For the sake of our alliance,” she reminded him, “And for all the hopes a parent has for their child’s safety and happiness.”

They had concluded their meeting by settling upon three Earth days as the interval until Teyla would arrive at Kamar-Taj.  “Of course, we’ll need to see what magic your daughter is already capable of, before we proceed with any training plan,” he cautioned her, as he and Wong escorted her back to the courtyard for her departure.  “Please be sure she understands what lies ahead.”

“Oh, she is already more than prepared for that,” Moraine told him gratefully, “And she has spent a share of time on Earth--living with her father for several years--so you should find she will easily acclimate to your world.”  With that, she drew on her sling ring—the magical tool which the Ancient One had shared with the Hadeethans, in consideration of their partnership—and conjured a portal back to her home world.  Stephen could discern very little of what lay on the other side; a room half lit with what could be daylight, vague shapes that were likely Hadeethan furniture.

Moraine turned his way, and bowed low, and then rose to meet his eye.  “Please keep in mind, Master Strange, that some of the tests Teyla may come to face are dangerous.  I beg you to see she is properly prepared to survive, beyond the training I have already given her.  I will be in your debt, and Earth’s, for the remainder of my days—and look forward to the day when I can be of service to your world, in return.”  She stepped into the portal, and raised her hand in farewell, closing the circle before he could utter a word in reply.

“Well, this should prove interesting,” Wong observed, “How much experience do you have dealing with teenagers?”

“Barely to none,” Stephen confessed, “And I hadn’t counted on being asked to play a schoolmaster to a rookie sorcerer.”

Wong chuckled, amused at Strange’s befuddlement, “I’m thinking diplomacy will turn out to be child’s play, compared to the task you have ahead of you.”

“Yes,” Steven agreed grimly, heading back to the library to continue his studies of earlier. “And I’d much rather be navigating my way through the human brain, then babysit an angsty adolescent.”

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#my writing #Of Magic Miracles and Moonlight #doctor strange fan fiction #doctor strange fanfiction #stephen strange fan fiction #stephen strange fanfiction #stephen strange x ofc #doctor strange x ofc #romance #slow burn romance #older man/younger woman #teacher/student #friends to lovers #original characters #Doctor Strange #Stephen Strange #Teyla of Hadeeth #Telya (OFC) #Streyla #Strangebatch #My Eternal Muse #please someone notice this or it may ne the end of me posting fic on tumblr

[reallyromealone]

Constance Lefour x male reader

Soulmate au

This fandom doesn't exist yet

Think of it as marketing lmao

🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐

(name) looked wide eyed as he glanced out the air ships window, the Amethyst city: Oraculum. The massive city peaking from the clouds, built from the mountains.

Grand gothic stone buildings surrounding the large castle like building carved from the side of Mount Ilfred and a large violet crystal floating on a large spire, connected from two points shaped like a moon, the deepslate castle having old detailed carvings and stained glass windows of the capitals inception and newer editions from the war.

It was loud and bustling as people of all kinds stepped off the airships from places far and wide, (name) held onto his suitcase as the sound of bells and whistles for people to board could be heard, ships refilling on anything needed and loud chatter. His feet stepped against the old cobblestone as he followed the crowd to customs, standing in line as security checked luggage.

They were imposing, navy garrison uniforms with golden embellishments.

"Next" (name) broke from his thoughts as he stumbled to the guard and set his briefcase on the old oak table "name and country of Origin" he said simply and (name) some nervously "(name) (lastname) and I'm from Froja" he said and the guard glared slightly and mumbled something under his breath along the lines of 'end time bastards' and (name) kept quiet about it.

It had been two hundred years yet the world was still recovering from the war, the country of Froja wanting to harness the planets core to power everything and anything though it's methods were less than great, slowly killing the planet till it was ended by the country of skyla; a nation that was torn from the planet by his countries wrong doings.

When the officer was finished (name) scurried out, uncomfortable at the situation

Glancing around be looked for signs of his friend, grinning when he spotted him smoking off to the side "you know that'll kill ya one day right?" He teased as toddy glanced at him groggily, ash Grey eyes peaking from his dark lashes as his messy curly strawberry blonde hair pulled up in a bun, his eye bags present "I'm here to have a good time, not worry about those things" (name) always admired toddy, the man never worried.

The two walked through the bustling dock onto the streets as (name) took in the city before him, townhouses and shop houses filling the streets, colorful and vibrant as vendors and shoppers alike entered and exited, being the magic hub of the world many stores were magic relatedToddy walked to a Grimoire shop and pulled out keys, unlocking the side door leading to the upstairs apartments and (name) looked curious "my my, throwing a party are we?" A voice chimed out and (name) glanced to see a pretty man with ivory white hair that fell to mid back, straight and soft looking, His Almond skin a stark contrast to it all. He was tall and lean, a black turtle neck and fitted slacks with nice looking loafers. "Hardly, (name) this is my neighbor Constance Lefour, Constance this is my close friend (name) (last name)"

"Opposites really do become good friends... friends with this sleepy bum" Constance teased at Toddys messy clothes, the teachers dress shirt always dishevelled and sleeves rolled up to show off his tattoos "Maybe I should get a roommate.." Constance said with false thought and Toddy snorted at the concept "please, you would probably tell them of their deaths with unsolicited fortunes"

"Never hurts to know when it will all end, makes one value life a bit more, you all have such little time" he spoke as if he and everyone else was different.

He was a weird pretty man.

Constance walked off without another word and Toddy rolled his eyes "accept a fortune at your own risk, he tends to get strange with them" Toddy remarked and (name) nodded "he seems like quite the character" he joked and Toddy huffed playfully"that barely covers him as a person"

"I have another neighbor, she runs the shop downstairs, she joins me for dinner or Constance as she's legally not allowed to cook" he explained and (name) raised an eyebrow "why?"

"She can't cook for shit, she almost burned the building down a few times so she's been banned as it's seen as a safety hazard"

"Fascinating"

"Also if you see a Siamese cat, don't give him food that's Winston and he already tricks like four people"

These folks seemed strange but the fondness in Toddys voice proved they were dear friends to him.

(Name)s belongings arrived a week prior, the man spending his time unpacking his room while Toddy took a nap, the man never getting enough sleep as long as he knew him.

"Thanks again... I really should get a new one" Moira said sheepishly as milsha helped a familiar get dressed for his adoption, Harold dressed in his best for a farmer just outside the capital.

"It's no problem! So what do you guys even do here?" (Name) asked as a group of angry hamsters stomped around squeaking angrily, he had never seen hamsters with mullets before but it was a first for everything he supposed.

"Ah! We help the spirits of forgotten pets start a new life as familiars for witches/warlocks and wizards! Petcrpmancy if you will!" She said cheerfully and (name) looked wide eyed "that's an incredibly noble of you two to do, I'm sure they will all find good homes" he said as a dodo bird in armor challenged a broom to a duel.

"Well I best be going, good luck Harold" (name) said and the cat looked happy as the necromancers bid their farewells.

(Name) explored the city a bit more, it was way different that back home as the sun shone high almost blindingly "oh? We meet again" a familiar voice rang clear and (name) looked to see none other than Constance flipping a shop sign to open and (name) looked at the old shop sign "Constance' magic Bazaar" "that's correct, anything and everything is sold here~"

"Fascinating, got any plant keeping grimoires?"

"Ah trying to save those poor plants from toddy Dearest?" Constance teased as they walked into the chaotic store, truly he had everything as items stacked everywhere and tagged messily.

Constance seemed to know where everything was as (name) looked at all the magical items "would you also like a fortune reading on the house?" He offered as he set the book down on the counter and types numbers into the register "50,000 Gūya" he said simply as he rested his chin in his hand, resting on the old mahogany counter as (name) paid with his Holo-com, a device that truly showed the mix of magic and Machina.

"Sure, why not" he said and Constanc practically beamed at this his honey eyes dancing with joy as he cracked his fingers, pulling a note pad and a pen, drawing sigils on it "projection magic?"

"Don't you want to see it?"

Constance spoke some encantations as he took (name)s hands and placed it on the paper "fortetīo" he said simply and removed the others hand from the paper as it set itself on fire, light projecting from it.

"What kind of fortune is it?"

"A love one"

(Name) Raised an eye brow and Constance shrugged playfully "I'm a sucker for romance~"

The two watched the fortune of (name) waiting at a table in black and white dressed in a suit and looked happy when he noticed.... Constance walk into frame?

"Well then"

"My my, never thought this is how I would meet my beloved, been so long I thought I didn't have one ~"

"Why's that?"

"Don't worry about it"

Toddy sipped his tea tiredly as he took it in "good luck" he said exhausted and (name) smiled sheepishly as Constance fixed his hair up, always trying to get Toddy to look less like he rolled out of bed "I promise to return him by eleven~" he teased and Toddy rolled his eyes "you better, he starts work tomorrow"

#x male reader #x reader #xreader #xmale reader #Constance lefour x reader #Constance lefour x male reader #familiar friends x reader #familiar friends x male reader

[mourntheantagonist]

Trigonometry

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

warning: explicit. check ao3 for detailed tag list

read on ao3

8:05 p.m.

That was the time flashing red in her face from the clock sitting on the side table next to the television. She sat with her back towards Steve, feet propped up on the sofa, resting her head against his side, her stare darting back and forth between the clock and the door.

8:05 p.m.

They told Billy to be at Steve’s house at eight.

Sure, it had only been five minutes—three hundred seconds exactly. It was a short enough amount of time to be explained away by a long stoplight or an inconveniently placed elderly driver.

Steve was rubbing his hand up and down her arm, and she knew he could feel how tense she was. Though, it wasn’t hard to be able to tell that considering Steve wouldn’t stop acknowledging it.

“Relax,” he said, “I’m sure he’s on his way.”

Nancy just kept looking at the clock. 8:06 now.

“He should be here already.” she grumbled.

Steve laughed, and it annoyed her just a bit how he was so unbothered by the situation. But, she also appreciated it, a little. At least one of them had to be the voice of reason. She had no idea what she would do if Steve was bouncing off the walls like he typically did when he was nervous or excited by something. She wondered if the fact that he wasn’t should concern her, but she was far too busy staring at the clock to hold any other concern.

“Not everyone can be as punctual as you, Nance.”

Nancy just curled further into his side, bringing her hand up to rest on his chest, feeling his heart beating hard. He was nervous too. He just wasn’t showing it. “Well,” she said, tilting her head back so she could see Steve’s face, “if he doesn’t show, we can still have fun just the two of us.”

Her voice sounded sincere, which meant Steve wouldn’t have noticed the way her own words filled her with dread. She loved Steve. That part hadn’t changed. But, there was something about the idea of just moving on with their relationship after all that happened that made her feel a little sick. Maybe it was just Billy’s words still ringing in her ear, still clinging to her skin, unable to be shaken or washed off. Maybe it wasn’t that, though. Maybe it was just her and her own infatuation with Billy. Maybe it was her own desire for something more that made the thought of going without the experience something that made her feel just slightly ill.

She needed Billy to show up. It was far more than a want. That was why she kept staring between the clock and the door. She needed him to show up because she didn’t know what she would do otherwise.

The sound of the Camaro’s engine saved her from entering that spiral.

It was almost embarrassing the speed at which she shot up from her seat, severing the physical connection between her and Steve as she got up from the couch and rushed over to the front window.

The headlights poured in through the glass, the car facing head on and the rays hitting her directly in the eyes and forcing her to look away. She knew she looked just like a dog waiting for the mailman to show up—judging by Steve’s laughs anyway—and she didn’t care. He was late, she was impatient, and Steve just seemed to be going with the motions.

The way Billy got out of the car sent something like electricity through her. It was a shocking sensation that ran through her veins and gave her heart something of a kickstart, beating rapidly at the sight of Billy’s mere presence in Steve’s driveway.

8:08 p.m.

He was there. It was happening.

Nancy felt stuck in place in her spot in front of the window. She felt like her feet had been nailed into the floor, and the palm of her hand had been glued to the curtain that she had firmly gripped. Steve was the one who opened the door, before Billy had even so much as set foot on the porch, still standing closer to his car than the entryway.

She watched from the window as Billy dragged the tip of his tongue against his top row of teeth.

“Waiting up for me I see.” he said, his lips smacking together, and Nancy felt her face flush, and an overwhelming urge to hide herself behind the curtains. “Sorry I’m late. I had some trouble leaving the house.”

Steve didn’t respond to that in a way that Nancy could tell. She couldn’t see him from her angle behind the window. He stood directly in her blindspot. But, he must have done something nonverbal to warrant the jump in Billy’s step as he closed the distance between his car and the front door.

Nancy quickly backed herself away from the window and rushed back over to the couch, trying to act as natural as possible, hoping that Billy was just too enthralled with her boyfriend to notice her standing in the window just two feet to the left of him. She sat down, made herself look somewhat comfortable by bringing her feet up on the cushions and leaning her back into the pillows, looking anywhere but the front door where the party of two was about to become a party of three.

Billy shrugged himself of his jacket the second he walked through the door and tossed it onto the back of a chair, and somehow he was appearing to be more comfortable than Nancy looked on the couch, and she was trying really, really hard.

However comfortable Billy was in that moment would quickly start to fade as the seconds ticked by, and the three of them remained in a dimly lit living room in complete silence. Nancy could tell he was growing tense by the subtle fall of his grin, and the seemingly subconscious attempt to pull against a sleeve that was no longer there. She couldn’t blame him. Behind her own closed lips she was clenching her teeth. Steve was sporting his typical stress-induced shaky and neurotic demeanor.

“Should we, umm…” Steve’s voice cracked, and Nancy had to swallow a laugh because the last time she heard that voice out of Steve, she was fifteen and Steve was tripping over himself trying to ask her to catch a movie with him at The Hawk.

Steve cleared his throat and finished his sentence. “Should we head upstairs to my room?” he asked, and the blush on his cheeks was comparable to a tomato, but at the very least his voice was without any high pitched variations that time.

Billy stood awkwardly in between the couch and Steve, and Nancy could actually feel the vibrations coming from Billy’s erratically tapping foot. “Aren’t you gonna buy me dinner first?” he asked, and the tone of his voice and the look on his face told an entirely different story than the one his toes were telling. Neither of them were sure what that story was exactly, but the words were enough to put both herself and Steve into a state of alarm. Feeding Billy a nice meal as foreplay was not a part of their little plan.

“Uhh,” Steve’s eyes were wide, and if you couldn’t tell he was nervous before, he was wearing that fact like a neon sign right about now. “We uh, we don’t—”

“Holy fuck. I was kidding.”

Billy was looking at the two of them like they were being ridiculous, but also, appearing like he was truly on a level playing field—nervous out of his mind, and having absolutely no idea where any of this was supposed to be going. Nancy could only wish there were instructions. She wished it had been like one of her science labs. Step, by step, by step with precise measurements and detailed actions in a specific order. It made things easy, and it kept her from messing up, and potentially causing any lethal explosions in chemistry class.

Nancy pushed herself up off the couch, finally meeting the two boys somewhere close to eye level, rather than two feet below being smothered by the couch cushions. She brushed out the wrinkles in her clothes, which was pointless but a force of habit, and she tried to let her body find ease. She just reminded herself that the two standing before her were Steve and Billy, and despite what reputation would have her believe, she had nothing to be afraid of.

“Upstairs then?” Nancy finally spoke, realizing just as she said it that she hadn’t said a word since Billy had arrived. It was weird. He made her into a person she couldn’t recognize. She was shy, in a way, and nobody had ever made her feel that small. She wasn’t totally sure if that was because Billy was bigger than her, or because the situation they were in was just massive.

Billy nodded, and it was then that Nancy knew that it was the situation that was making her feel so small, because Billy looked to be even smaller.

Steve led the way, and Nancy made note of the way his head was hung towards the floor, staring straight down at his feet and intently watching as he took each step. It was as if his main focus was avoiding the possibility of tripping and making a fool of himself.

Billy followed behind Steve. It was Nancy who was trailing behind, and she was partly hoping that her distance would allow enough time for the tension to die down and the awkwardness to fade just enough for it all to finally start.

She had thought it would be easier. The way it had been described to her, albeit, in the vague details of the original encounter that she managed to get out of Steve and Billy, it was easy. Steve had gone in for the kill, barely any hesitation, and no lead up. There wasn’t any chit chat, or breaking of the ice. That’s sort of what she was hoping for—a desperate display of horniness that happened so quick that she wouldn’t have the time to think twice and run away.

When they got upstairs and walked into the room, it was like they’d all just been pushed out onto a stage with the curtains already drawn without a script in hand. Hell, they didn’t even know what play they were performing.

Nancy just took a deep breath and walked herself over to Steve’s desk chair beside the bed, sitting down and trying her best to get comfortable, or at the very least seem comfortable.

The two boys were still standing by the doorway, completely silent and stiff as boards. Steve’s chest visibly rose as he turned around to shut the door, turning back around once secured and leaning all of his weight into it.

It was weird, Nancy thought. They never closed the door when it had been just the two of them. Steve’s parents were never home when they did it, and they rarely ever ran the risk of any surprise visits. The house was always completely empty aside from themselves.

All of those things remained true, and yet, Nancy was relieved to have it shut. It felt safer, in a way. She already felt so exposed, so any extra bit of cover she could get was something she would cling onto.

Steve must’ve felt the same.

A few seconds they stood there unmoving, each of them waiting on the other to initiate. Nancy just waited, watching like a movie scene unfolding. It wasn’t her place to do anything anymore. The ball was in their court.

Steve eventually made that first move, which was shocking, to say the least. Billy never seemed to be the type to follow another person’s lead.

Steve reached out a hand, like an olive branch, and Billy just stared at it confused, but took it anyway, as if curiosity had overpowered him. Steve led him over to the foot of the bed, and Nancy felt her breath get caught in her throat when the backs of Billy’s knees hit the mattress. Somehow the four feet in travel from the door to the bed felt so fast, and their mere proximity to the bed felt like they were sitting right on the precipice.

That was what she wanted right? Quick, and easy?

Billy seemed to have other ideas, or rather, his mind did. Because consciously or not, Billy couldn’t look away from her.

“What is—” he spoke weakly, and it was a tone she never thought she’d hear coming out of a vessel that stood as tall and proud as Billy Hargrove did. It was shy and small and powerless. “What is this? W-What are we doing? What is she—”

Perhaps they should have talked about it in more detail with him. But, honestly, they didn’t think they’d have to. Billy had seemed perfectly comfortable when first propositioned, and if his reputation was anything to go by, they figured Billy would be the one taking the lead, and guiding them.

It was quickly revealing itself that they had grossly misjudged him.

It was the first time Nancy felt the need to intervene, or at least provide a helping hand in the right direction, because Billy was lost, and Steve couldn’t pinpoint his location.

“Just relax,” she said, putting more effort than ever into how relaxed she herself looked, because how was she going to say that without walking the walk. “I’m just going to be here. You two get to do your own thing.”

Billy’s facial expression could only be described As dumbfounded. He just kept looking back and forth between Steve and herself, seemingly waiting for the answer to a question he couldn’t ask.

Luckily, Nancy thought she might have the answer.

“It’s okay, Billy.”

Billy managed to take his eyes off of Nancy for long enough to look back at Steve, who was quickly learning from Nancy. He gave Billy a soft smile and nodded his head.

“It’s okay,” he said.

Miraculously, that seemed to relax Billy. Not by much, but she made a note of how his fists stopped clenching.

Somehow, as the time passed, the two of them had created a good amount of distance.

Steve was the one to initiate closing that said distance, slowly, barely conceivable movements bringing him from point A to point B.

Their stance was awkward from her point of view. Steve stood in front of Billy, who had his back to the bed. Their bodies were clearly still uncomfortable and Nancy didn’t fail to notice the way Billy’s eyes continued to dart in her direction, despite everything.

Steve didn’t fail to notice either.

With a visibly gentle hand, Steve brought his fingers up to Billy’s chin, pulling his gaze away from her, and centering it back on himself. The shorter distance they once had began to lessen even more as Steve made use of his other hand, placing it just above Billy’s hip and snaking it to the small of his back. Over a short period of time, their bodies went from the initial distant with inorganic postures, to pressed up against each other, chest to chest, but at least in the case for Billy, still unrelaxed, eyes still straining to look over at Nancy.

Steve—to Nancy’s surprise—was the more relaxed one between the two, and he was also the one doing a much better job at pretending she wasn’t even there. Nancy’s head was tilted as she watched, looking intently into the eyes of her boyfriend as he stared at Billy. His deep brown eyes were locked in on the blonde. His mouth was hung open just barely, his jaw relaxed and his lips soft with a hint of drool.

She felt her stomach start to tingle at the sight of the scene, and as each second passed and the two grew closer and closer, the urge to look away grew stronger. It felt like she wasn’t meant to be seeing it. Hell. She wasn’t meant to be seeing it. None of this was normal. Normally, when two people had sex, there wasn’t a third person just sitting on the sidelines, watching the whole thing like a movie. Well, at least not usually to their knowledge anyway.

There must be fun in it, she could imagine. The thrill of putting on a show, being wild and carefree and completely unbothered by the fact that someone else was watching. But, Nancy found there to be more of a thrill in being the third party. It was like when she was in middle school and she’d stumbled upon one of her mom’s Cosmos, knowing the second that she found it that she was supposed to look away, but finding her eyes simply glued to the page. She was being naughty, and there was just something so exciting about that. If reading a Cosmopolitan was considered naughty, well, what she was doing with Steve and Billy should be illegal.

Even more thrilling.

Just like when she was twelve years old sitting in her closet and flipping through the pages of a magazine, she couldn’t pull her eyes away. It was as if time itself had stopped, and they had frozen in place with just how slow they were going, and Nancy could feel the anticipation growing in her stomach just waiting for that electrical circuit to connect.

It was so gentle, and soft, and she could almost feel it too. She could see the way Billy’s breath had hitched when Steve’s lips had landed. His wide eyes had grown even wider and his body had stiffened like a board and she had to wonder what she’d missed, because Nancy Wheeler was good at reading people, and she’d never expect that sort of reaction out of Billy.

But then, the dust settled, and Billy’s seemingly terrified look had sunk into the warmth of Steve. His eyes fell shut as if it were by force of gravity. His body became loose, his hands moved away from his sides, and it was clear to Nancy that Billy was no exhibitionist, but he could quickly fall into the illusion that they were alone. Nancy understood that. She’d experienced that before. Steve really had a way of making one feel like they were the only two people left in the world.

Billy had clearly fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker.

Billy was the one to deepen the kiss, those trailing hands moving up along Steve’s sides until they were cupping his cheeks. It was all consuming. Every last exhale of air and little noise that Steve produced Billy swallowed with his kiss. His grip on Steve was visibly tense—the white of his knuckles and the deep canyons in Steve’s cheeks made by the pressure under Billy’s fingers telling her so. Steve’s head was moving as if he was swimming, deep in the sea, searching for something. It seemed as though Steve had control of the movements, while Billy maintained control of the kiss.

It seemed that way, until suddenly their vertical stance had drifted to something more horizontal, with Billy falling flat on his back in one swift movement, something graceful. Billy still had his hands firmly latched onto Steve’s face, and suddenly Steve was the one who was wide-eyed. It seemed that Billy had taken over control.

The kissing quickly became less soft, and more frantic. A sloppy exchange of tongues with the corners of each other’s lips pulling tight against their will. It was desperate. Billy had his hand firmly latched into the hair on Steve’s head, as if he was afraid he’d try and run away. Nancy had felt that before with Steve. That desperate urge to cling onto him as tightly as possible like he was her lifeline.

She could see Billy smiling, less with his lips and more with his eyes. He looked blissfully content with relaxed eyes as the weight of Steve’s kiss smothered him and left him utterly breathless.

It was all going great. Perfectly smooth. Nancy sat watching, letting the butterflies in her stomach reproduce and fly around and lift herself up to new heights. Somehow in the midst of everything, she failed to realize that Billy hadn’t been the only person in the room that was worried someone else might be watching, because she sat there, fighting every urge she had to touch herself.

And boy did she have the urge.

As she watched, Billy looked to be falling more and more into the illusion that he and Steve were the only two people in the room. Steve hadn’t even looked at her once. All of his attention had been locked on Billy from the start. That was supposed to make her jealous. Wasn’t it? The fact that Steve couldn’t even spare her a second glance? The fact that he couldn’t take his eyes off of him?

It did. Actually. It did make her jealous.

The difference was, she liked the way it felt.

And the urge turned into something she could no longer over power.

She decided to be discreet with it, bringing her feet up onto the chair with her and sitting on her heel, rocking back and forth, side to side. It wasn’t anything intense, but it would be enough stimulation to hold her over until she calmed herself down a bit more.

She didn’t have Steve’s lips on hers. She didn’t have his essence all over her to be consumed by. It was going to take her a little bit more work to get comfortable.

Though, it seemed she’d overestimated Billy’s comfortability, because just seconds ago, he seemed so blissfully unaware of Nancy’s presence. He seemed so lost in everything Steve.

But Steve’s hands eventually began to travel. No longer mapping the geography of Billy’s chest through the opening of his practically unbuttoned shirt, his hand slid down, over the fabric. Down. Down. Further, and further…eventually breaking the denim barrier below his belt.

Billy instantly tensed as Steve made contact. Eyes shooting open into a look of shock. His breath seemed to be lost as he allowed his neck to turn, and his gaze to drift back over to Nancy, who, just like him, had frozen in place.

Steve retracted his hand and stood up, recognizing immediately what had caused Billy to startle. Suddenly, they were back to square one, waiting around with too much distance between them.

“Hey,” Steve said softly, and he was slow with his reapproach, leaning back down and making sure Billy knew where his hands were—way up high, right beside his face. Steve gently scooped up the side of Billy’s head and brought him back to facing upwards, and looking back at Steve with a blank and panicked stare. “It’s just me, Billy.”

Steve then placed a long and incredibly soft—by the look of it—kiss to Billy’s lips, as if to pull him back into the trance he’d just been, or to give him a little bit of medicine to help calm his overactive nerves.

It was intimate. It was very intimate. Not just for the kiss itself—Nancy had seen enough of that already to be used to it—but it was in the eyes. Steve looked down at Billy so tenderly. So full of concern and desperate understanding.

And then there was Billy.

Billy who looked like a kicked puppy. Billy who looked like he was borderline on the verge of tears just looking up at her boyfriend. It looked like he was wearing somebody else’s face, because Nancy would have never thought she would see an expression like that out of Billy Hargrove. She never thought she’d see him so nervous and unsure. So out of his depth.

He was still straining to look at her.

“Hey, look at me.” Steve said, his voice barely above a whisper. If it weren’t for the stillness of the room, it would have been easily likely that she wouldn’t have heard a thing, even given how close she was to the conversation that didn’t involve her. “Not at her. At me.”

She could hear his quick and uneven breaths. She could see them with the rise and fall of his chest—so erratic. Steve just kissed him again, bringing a hand to rest right over Billy’s lungs as he did, as if to watch as the seconds passed as Billy’s breathing and heart rate slowed, relaxing into his lips like a sedative.

Steve was slow and calculated with his next moves. He didn’t let his hands travel too far south, and instead stopped at the shirt buttons just above Billy’s navel, undoing them with only one hand—his other hand was still up by Billy’s head, drawing circles with his thumb behind Billy’s ear.

Billy leaned into the touch.

It was soft, slow, and careful. Each movement designed to give Billy the chance to breathe, but not the chance to overthink and freak out again, and Nancy sat there, literally on the edge of her seat watching as the clothes started getting stripped off.

First was Billy’s shirt, buttons undone and laying open, exposing the final bit of his torso those two clasps managed to keep hidden. It wasn’t anything either of them hadn’t seen before, but something about the moment itself made it feel like they were all fully exposed.

Then Steve stood up, momentarily parting their kiss to pull his own shirt over his head with the help of Billy, who was pulling at the hem. She could’ve sworn she saw Billy chasing Steve’s lips, his head practically levitating up off the bed to follow Steve’s movement to savor just the extra split second of contact.

They took the opportunity of their already parted lips to take Billy’s shirt off the rest of the way, tossing both of their discarded garments on the floor behind the bed, as if they were obstacles in the way of the finish line.

Steve was back down within seconds, hands not immediately making a move to take off the rest of Billy’s offending clothing, and instead taking the opportunity to explore the canvas of Billy’s chest. She could tell that it was completely hairless, which was in striking contrast to Steve’s.

She always loved Steve’s chest hair. She loved the way it felt running through her fingers.

And so did Billy, apparently.

She hadn’t been paying too much attention to where Billy’s hands were. Not until they landed right on the same spot of Steve’s chest where hers always landed, stroking up and letting the gaps of his fingers wade through the coarse sea of hair.

And Steve’s hands were traveling the same route they always did on her, on Billy. Up, and over the breast, squeezing the soft tissue. If she was being honest with herself, her and Billy weren’t much different in the realm of chest size, and all things added together, it was like she was staring at herself in a way.

One of Steve’s fingers brushed over Billy’s nipple and Nancy could have sworn she heard him gasp at the sensation. Or maybe that was just her, because she was so intently focused on Steve’s hands that she sat there waiting, expecting to feel something when Steve’s finger grazed him as if she really was the one in Billy’s position.

But she felt nothing, and without even thinking, she snaked her hand under her own shirt, sticking it under the wire of her bra, and fully giving herself into the fantasy playing out before her very eyes.

She no longer had the mind to care whether or not anyone was looking at her.

Things were finally looking like they were progressing. Steve and Billy kissed for a long while, easing into everything at an agonizingly slow pace for Nancy, but at least when Steve finally reached down to work at Billy’s jeans, he didn’t freeze up.

Undoing Billy’s belt with one hand probably wasn’t the most time-sensitive way of doing it—Steve’s fingers kept fumbling as he tried pulling the end through the loops. Steve seemingly refused to move that other hand away from sitting in the center of Billy’s chest. Nancy could only assume Steve was feeling the same sensation Nancy was feeling with her own hand pressed to her chest—that strong and chaotic pumping of blood through her veins.

When Steve finally managed to free Billy of a closed zipper, he didn’t hesitate all the much before slipping that same free hand below the waistband of Billy’s underwear, and it was like there was a sudden jolt of electricity that was felt by all three of them, despite only two of them having had any contact for a circuit completion.

While it was a collective jolt, they all reacted pretty differently.

Nancy’s eyes widened, and she could have sworn she felt the beat of her heart pause completely for a full second.

Billy produced a sound, seemingly against his will and completely uncontrolled. Nancy could only describe it as shockingly delighted. She also assumed Billy was having a whole separate reaction downstairs…judging by Steve’s reaction.

Because Steve smiled, almost deviously, like he had a plan in his mind, and Nancy was sitting on the edge of her seat just waiting to hear it.

Steve dragged his tongue along his upper lip, as if he was staring directly at a dinner platter of all his favorite foods.

Steve brought himself even closer to Billy, chest resting against chest, his weight on top of the other boy, his mouth less than an inch away from the other boy's mouth.

He didn’t kiss him. He just let his hot breath hit Billy’s face as he spoke the words directly into Billy’s agape mouth.

“What do you wanna do?”

Nancy could actually see it that time. Her eyes had drifted down back to where Steve’s hand was still below Billy’s waistband, and she didn’t fail to notice the very subtle movement, and the ever so slight laugh that came from Steve in response.

“Someone’s eager,” he said.

Billy didn’t respond. He just stayed lying there with wide open eyes, mouth hung open in a perfect display of shock.

Steve didn’t acknowledge it—hell, he probably wasn’t even aware of it, so locked in and focused on Billy—but Billy was hardly the only eager person in the room, and it wasn’t like she was being subtle about it. She was biting her lower lip, and grinding against her heel much faster and violently than before. She wasn’t just eager, or excited. She was outright desperate.

More than anything, she was excited for Billy’s answer to Steve’s question. It was the one thing they didn’t discuss beforehand. She didn’t think they had to, seeing as that part was just between him and Billy, and not herself. It didn’t feel like she should have a say in any of that.

She didn’t want to have any say in it, because even if she was asked—just like Billy had been asked—she was almost positive she wouldn’t have been able to come up with an answer. Even sitting there without the question posed to her, she had no idea what she wanted. All she knew, all she wanted in that very moment, was to know what they wanted.

Something about knowing another person’s deepest desires lit something up inside Nancy. It was the type of thing Steve would never normally share with her, or with anyone for that matter. She could only assume the same for Billy. And yet, she was sitting there, right within earshot of an admission she was never meant to hear.

Billy let out a high-pitched whimper as Steve moved his hand against him. It was a sound that clearly made Steve happy, but it wasn’t the sound he—and Nancy—was waiting to come out of his mouth.

Steve dropped his lips back onto Billy’s, and it was less like a kiss, and more like he was trying to suck the answer from his throat. Kissing him into a sweet delusion that the words he was saying were just thoughts inside his head, where only he was privy to hear them.

Billy let out a long exhale through his nose, melting into the kiss. Clearly, whatever little spell Steve was casting was working wonders.

Steve parted too soon, leaving Billy chasing the kiss and meeting nothing but air after lifting his head up from the surface. He was absolutely delirious. High off of Steve’s kiss. It was like truth serum, and all Steve had to do was ask him one more time.

“What do you want to do, Billy?” he asked. “Whatever you want.”

There was barely a second of silence before Billy hummed and said

“Fuck me.”

Steve showed a look of momentary surprise, as if that was the last thing he expected to hear Billy say.

That thing he had said in the car, about it feeling like he was losing his virginity all over again, turns out he really wasn’t all that far off. She knew from the very beginning that Steve didn’t really know what he was doing. She knew this was as new for him as it was for her. But, it hadn't been very obvious that he was in way out of his head until right then, when his eyes had grown wide and he was suddenly at a loss for words.

“Oh—ok…”

It seemed that Billy noticed that too, and the delirium wore off.

“You’ve never fucked a guy before.” It wasn’t even a question. It was more like a realization.

There was so much going through her head. That initial excitement she had when he’d said it—that skip in her heart beat and hitch in her breath—hadn't disappeared by any means, but it was certainly muffled by all the other noise. The concern for Steve, the feeling of being exposed, the worry over the fact that everything had stopped and the desperation for it to continue. But more than all of that, the loudest thing ringing in her ears were all the questions she had about Billy.

He had been subverting all her expectations with every move since the moment he stepped through that front door. Every word out of his mouth was like a brand new piece of information that disproved scientific fact, leaving her to scrap everything and start over from scratch. The words that Billy said, while exciting to her, were the very last ones she expected him to say, or want. Steve seemed to be taking it all in with ease. All up until that point, when he finally felt like he was the fish out of water.

Steve was speechless and still, and his silence would have been palpable if Billy hadn’t taken away any ability he would’ve had to form words by taking hold of the nape of Steve’s neck, and suffocating him with another kiss.

Nancy was taken aback by just how well the two of them seemed to fit, like adjoining pieces of the same puzzle. Steve’s face softened and his eyes relaxed almost instantly when Billy kissed him—just like Billy when he was the one in Steve’s place. They were so easily able to calm each other, make each other feel safe. It was like they could read each other’s minds. Like they knew more than she did.

Nancy would be lying if she said that didn’t strike a nerve. Part of her wished she could be privy to the telepathic conversation taking place between the two, but another part of her wasn’t sure she’d want to know what they weren’t saying out loud, because if they weren’t saying it out loud, maybe it was for good reason.

Nancy thought a little too hard about Billy’s request…or was it a demand? She couldn’t really discern his tone from how low he spoke. She wasn’t very far from them, but the volume in which he had said those words had made it seem like they were a mile away. Those words. God, was it stupid that she never once considered that to be a possibility? She was grateful Billy wasn’t looking at her to see the look on her face, because it wasn't doing all that much to put down the rumor that Nancy Wheeler was a prude. Hell, she was beginning to question it herself because she couldn’t even wrap her mind around the mechanics of it all. Surely it wasn’t the same as what she and Steve did.

Steve. Billy had said it himself, although Steve hadn’t confirmed, she knew the truth. No, of course he hadn’t.

Steve seemed to finally find his bearings, and spoke in stark contrast to the blubbering mess he’d been just moments ago.

“No.” he said, pausing to take what seemed to be a relaxing breath, “You’d be the first.”

There. The confirmation that had Nancy sitting on the edge of her seat. Nancy never thought of Steve being anything mysterious. He seemed to be an open book. But if the past week had taught her anything, it was to stop acting like she knew everything all of the time. But, she couldn’t help but feel a little smug at Steve’s confirmation, because at least there was one thing she’d gotten right.

“But…”

There was always a “but” wasn’t there?

“I’ve done, y’know, that before.”

Without saying another word, Steve pushed himself off of Billy and rolled over to pull something out of his nightstand drawer, leaving both her and Billy speechless with his admission.

So much for Steve being an open book, because in all the conversations they had about Steve’s rendezvous with a good chunk of the girls in his year, somehow anal never came up? Nancy could only sit there and try to think about who. And by the pleased yet shocked look on Billy’s face, she could tell he was wondering the same thing.

Nancy ran through the list of names in her head. Stacy? No way. Lori? Not a chance. Abigail? Well, that name was a surprise to start with as Nancy only ever knew her as the girl who sat in the front pew and carted a bible around along with her textbooks. On the other hand, she wasn’t deaf to the jokes that flew around about girls like Abigail, that “the Jesus freaks are the freakiest in bed”. Perhaps there was actually some truth to that.

Somehow, in her spiral, she’d missed a few steps, and once back in reality she found herself looking at the two boys undressing each other the rest of the way with an alarming amount of haste. She was partly worried, with the way Billy was desperately pulling at Steve’s jeans that he would cause a tear in the denim. Something must’ve been said between the two of them that she hadn’t picked up to warrant it, or perhaps it was just another telepathic exchange she should be grateful she didn’t have to hear.

She wished Steve had thought to take that route with the last thing he said, because that was all she could think about. She continued to run through the list of girls, never quite settling on the most likely candidate. She knew she wasn’t going to be able to stop thinking about it, so rather than wasting her energy on shoving the whole thing down, she twisted it around. Instead of going all detective and trying to suss out the girl, she thought about the boy, about Steve. She thought about what Steve must’ve felt. She thought about what he must’ve looked like, about the sounds he would have made. She wondered if they were anything like the sounds he made when he was with her.

Then, somehow right then, it dawned on her that she wasn’t going to have to continue to wonder.

With that thought, any reservations she had, any worry of being watched or feelings of uncertainty were gone as she let her fingertips breach her waistband.

By the time she’d gathered herself again, her eyes first caught sight of the now larger pile of clothes on the ground, and she didn’t even have to look up to know that the two of them were completely naked. Somehow, when she did look up, the sight did nothing for her. Well, at least, them being naked changed nothing. They were still doing that same little back and forth as before—long desperate kisses and wandering hands—the only difference was there was one less barrier, and less up to the imagination. She’d seen Steve’s naked body a countless number of times before, and as for Billy, there wasn’t anything surprising below the belt. It was exactly as she expected. Nothing for additional intrigue.

It wasn’t too much too fast, which was something she knew she was grateful for. And even though her care over potentially being watched had mostly subsided, it was a lot easier to ease into everything with the two boys in front of her with faces pressed so close that any view they might have had of her would be minimal.

She tried not to think about what she was doing. Everytime she thought too hard about it, it never worked. She’d sink, and her mind would run instead of wander, and the overthinking would get to her right before the cliff's edge, but only ever close enough to see it. Something would stop her before she would ever feel the free fall.

She had to shut off her control when she did it, and let her mind do its own thing. She stared ahead, and looked at what was happening before her—Steve was wielding what she now realized was the bottle of lube he’d pulled from his nightstand drawer, clicking it open, and squeezing what seemed to her like a generous amount onto his outstretched index and middle fingers—and she let her fingers move about, not thinking about where they were going, just blindly chasing the good feeling. Looking for the sweet spot.

Her eyes, having relaxed and nearly shut, darted open as a sudden sound entered her ears. Billy’s voice. Honestly, Nancy wasn’t sure if they hadn’t been talking this whole time, or if her hearing had only just returned.

“You sure you know what you’re doing, pretty boy?” Billy teased.

Surely he did. He said he’d done it before, and she couldn’t imagine it would be that different with Billy being a boy. Billy obviously wasn’t serious with his question. He was clearly meaning to coax something out of Steve. Only Nancy didn’t quite realize that until after he’d coaxed it out of him.

Steve looked cocky, smiling down at Billy with those gel coated fingertips still hovering in the air. “I know the golden rule,” Steve said, and those aforementioned fingers began their downward descent, falling into a place obscured by Billy’s thigh. It didn’t matter that Steve’s hand moved out of her vision, because she could see the chill run through Billy’s body. He inhaled sharply, and exhaled loudly, and Nancy didn’t know exactly what Steve was doing behind Billy’s thighs, but she knew by that reaction that Billy liked it. Steve smiled, proud of himself, and finished what he was saying. “As long as you’re feeling good, then I gotta be doing something right.”

Good God. Nancy knew the words weren’t directed at her but it was too easy to pretend that they were, because right as he said it, her own fingers had found the spot, and it felt more than just good. Steve was definitely doing something right.

Steve had started doing something to Billy. Something more than what he’d already done, because Billy was close to writhing. His neck was flexed as if he was straining to get a good look at Steve’s headboard, and the hand of his that she could see was gripping the fabric on Steve’s bed. For a second, Nancy wondered if he was in pain. Sure, she’d never experienced it for herself, but she could imagine that what Steve was doing, if not done correctly, would hurt. Nancy would have made that assumption based on Billy’s movements alone, but the sounds he was making were telling a different story.

If she wasn’t sure then, that Billy was loving every one of Steve’s moves, she was sure when Steve asked the question.

“How does this feel?” Steve asked, and she could tell by the look in his eye that he already knew the answer, and like her, he just wanted to hear Billy say it.

Billy nodded, almost frantically. “Mmhmm,” was all he managed to get out. It looked like he was preparing to say something else, his mouth open and tongue moving like it was beginning to form a word, when a sharp inhale replaced his voice. Instead of finishing the thought, and saying what he was going to say, he just nodded his head again, somehow even more frantic. Another one of those nonverbal cues, except this time, somehow, Nancy was able to pick up on the meaning too.

More.

“Like that?” Steve asked, again, already knowing the answer. Nancy was beginning to get on the same wavelength, because she knew the answer too. Billy nodded again.

“Feels good.” Billy barely managed to get the words to come out as something coherent. Little did he know that wasn’t necessary, as it seemed they could all read each other’s minds at that moment. “Don’t stop.” he added.

“Good.” Steve said, and Nancy could tell just the praise alone did something to Billy, letting out a small whimper. “You let me know if anything changes.”

Steve was always so attentive. That part wasn’t surprising. But the way it felt being an onlooker was. Not only was watching all the ways Steve was affecting Billy doing a lot for her, but just Steve alone, seeing how he wielded his power and control with a steady hand, how he was so focused on Billy, how he wanted nothing more than to make his partner feel good, first and foremost. It was the kind of thing that got lost in the heat of it all. When Nancy was in Billy’s position, Steve was the same way. Albeit, not as slow and careful as he was with Billy, not treating her as something overly fragile. Still, he was attentive. Always checking in, asking questions just for the sake of asking them, diving into her mind and not taking any advantage while in there. Just exploring, and getting to know the new environment.

While things had been moving very slowly, Steve hadn’t been with Billy for that long in the grand scheme of things. Not as long as he’d been with Nancy. Steve had been given over a year to learn how to read her, and understand her, taking notes each time they had sex on what she liked and didn’t like. He didn’t have that advantage with Billy, so perhaps that was another reason he was taking things slow, aside from the obvious. Thinking back, the first time she and Steve had sex, he was slow with her too. Maybe that should make her feel jealous, that that part wasn’t special. It didn’t.

Her mind was wandering again, and she was losing that feeling. Nancy turned her focus back on the boys. Funnily enough, during all her overthinking about how slow things were progressing, things had started moving way faster than she was expecting.

They were back to kissing, except Steve’s right hand stayed hidden in that space she couldn’t see. Their positions had changed too. Steve had settled himself in between Billy’s spread legs, and Billy hadn’t moved much, but she noticed how his feet had moved further up on the bed, his knees bent at a tighter angle than before. Steve’s other hand was back on Billy’s chest too, and it wasn’t until Nancy noticed that she realized her own hand was still slipped under her bra.

She watched, and matched Steve’s movements, and put herself back into the scene.

For the most part, aside from the satisfaction evident in Steve’s smug smile, Billy was the only one getting any sort of pleasure. At least, that was what Nancy assumed with all of his toe curling and sheet gripping. Steve had seemed too calm and collected to be anywhere near where Billy was at. She wasn’t blind to Billy’s dick. It was hard not to notice with the way it was sticking straight up, almost as if it was begging to be gawked at. She caught Steve glancing down more than once or twice to steal a look, and she didn’t fail to notice the way he bit his lower lip each time. Clearly he was feeling something too, but any visual confirmation like she had with Billy was hidden behind Billy’s fucking thigh. If she wasn’t already busy doing her own thing, she’d have stood up, walked over, and taken a look for herself, like a surgeon over an operating table.

Instead, she just kept looking out for all of Steve’s other visual cues, even going as far as tallying up each and every time Steve’s top teeth dragged against his lower lip.

She had to keep reminding herself to relax, and stop letting her mind wander. She was losing sight of the real task at hand—just enjoying it.

“I think you might be ready.” Steve said, as if Billy was a meal he was preparing.

Billy let out an exhausted groan. “You think?” he said sarcastically, lifting his head as if to gesture in front of him. Billy’s hands were still preoccupied with gripping the sheets. Steve’s fingers must have still been inside of him.

That thought right there sent a wave through her body. She really hadn’t quite grasped exactly what was happening until right then. Knowing was enough to bring the good feeling back, and quickly she was beginning to understand Billy’s urgency.

Steve lifted himself again, and those fingers she’d assumed were just inside of Billy were freed, and she could’ve sworn her heart stopped when she saw it. God, she was being dramatic. She’d seen Steve’s dick countless times, up close and personal, and yet she’d never seen him like that. It was the same, but the person it was attached to…it was an entirely different person. Somehow she hadn’t noticed it before, but Steve was sweating, and shaking. Normally he was so suave, never nervous when it came to sex, and Billy had him shaking.

Wait. Maybe she’d gotten it all wrong. Because the next thing she noticed was that Steve was no longer looking down at Billy.

He was looking over at her.

The illusion had fallen.

He was looking at her going to town on herself and she couldn’t even be bothered to stop. It was too late, he had seen, and somehow him seeing filled her with even more dread than Billy seeing would have.

And Billy. He was still laying there with his eyes looking up at the ceiling, none the wiser about what was happening between her and Steve.

The only thing Nancy could think as to why Steve was that he was upset by what he saw. All that time she’d spent working through her own potential jealousy, never once considering Steve might feel that too when it came down to it. Was he disgusted by her? So many emotions were flooding her head and she felt frozen, which didn’t help her case being stuck with one hand under her shirt and the other in her pants.

She just looked back at him, and tried her damndest to read the expression on her face. She had to have been missing something. She had to.

It felt like she had been staring at him forever, but Billy was still laying there so blissfully unaware that it couldn’t have been that long. She felt like she had to be wrong, because it didn’t make sense. Steve knew it was part of the plan, so he shouldn’t have been surprised.

Then she saw it. Maybe she only saw it because she was desperately looking for it, but in that expression so desperately trying to hide what he needed, she figured it out. Steve was nervous. He wasn’t jealous. Neither were the reason he was looking at her.

He was just like Billy before, looking at her, waiting for her to let him know it was okay.

She’d said it so many times before that she just assumed it didn’t need to be said again.

Then just one second later, she realized he and Billy weren’t the only ones that needed it. She needed it too.

They both needed to know not only was it okay to want it, but it was okay that they were—very obviously—enjoying it.

Nancy gave him a soft and knowing smile, and nodded her head. She glanced down at Billy and saw he still hadn’t noticed the pause in the action, and she took the opportunity to mouth the words—for extra measure—it’s okay.

Steve smiled, and it was as if he read her mind when he silently repeated her words back to her.

It’s okay.

It was all okay.

And finally—fucking hopefully—they’d jumped the last hurdle.

Steve had gathered his composure and resumed what he’d been originally doing when he lifted himself off of Billy—grabbing the condom, which she presumed he also pulled from the nightstand along with the lube, and sliding it on himself. It appeared to take him a few moments to get Nancy to disappear again. Part of her wished she could just make herself invisible, clearly it would have made things a lot easier.

Nancy was shocked that after every hiccup, every uncertainty, they were still going through with it. She felt stupid, really. How had she been so naive to think it would go smoothly. Maybe it was because it was always so easy with Steve, she figured it wouldn’t change much by just adding one more factor.

But then again, Billy was the additional factor, and perhaps it was her own fault that their initial plans went awry.

She took a deep breath, tossed away the thought, and freed her mind the best she could because she earned it, and she had no intention of giving it up. She couldn’t.

Steve kissed Billy again, consuming him like his lips had been coated with a potion to ease all tensions. Maybe they were. She knew the taste of his cigarette had done something to her. She licked her own lips at the thought, and she found herself craving that familiar taste.

Billy’s eyes were closed, not squeezed shut, but relaxed, like he’d spent all the energy he had to keep them open.

Steve gave Billy one last kiss and hovered there, his breath falling into Billy’s face. Nancy noticed the pink in his cheeks from the concentrated flow of hot air. As Steve was heavily breathing, he was also shifting around his lower half, and one of the hands he was using for support reentered that space out of her vision.

Steve’s face was so close to Billy’s that their noses were touching, and Billy had opened his mouth just slightly, as if trying to swallow Steve’s every exhale, and the words that were soon to follow.

“Tell me if I need to stop,” Steve said, and her own heart fluttered at the comment, but she pushed any extra thoughts about it away. “Tell me how it feels.”

Nancy took a deep breath, and held it.

She didn’t release it until Billy had opened his eyes.

It looked like at the same moment she released her breath, Billy started to hold his.

He looked stunned for a second, but it was short enough that neither her nor Steve had the chance to react before Billy eased their worries, when the wide eyes and clenched jaw and tightly sealed lips were followed up by a long, deep, and seemingly unintentional moan. It was breathy, almost like Steve had knocked the wind out of him.

Nancy’s eyes darted back and forth between Billy and Steve’s faces. Billy was still all wide eyed and open mouthed, but more relaxed, like the only facial muscles he had the use of were the ones controlling his eyelids. Steve was all focus, with his trained eyes and tight jaw. At first glance he seemed like he had it all together, but Nancy also noticed the hair sticking to the sweat on his forehead, his own heavy breaths and stifled vocalizations and knew his mask was falling off right along with Billy’s.

Nancy didn’t have a mask on to begin with. She’d put all her chips in on the assumption that she’d be like a fly on the wall, going completely unnoticed so long as she didn’t provoke them. She’d been doing a pretty good job at not paying attention to her own actions and letting whatever wanted to happen, happen. While it felt good—God, it felt good—her masklessness ran the risk of humiliation. She’d been paying so little attention to her own actions that as she sat there, reveling in each and every one of Billy’s moans, she was completely deaf to whether or not she was making those same sounds. The tingling and shockwaves would have absolutely warranted it for where she was at right around then. Every orbit of her two fingers against her clit was enough to at least make her feel a little breathless each time.

Nancy couldn’t pull her eyes away from Steve’s bare hips, wearing Billy’s legs like a belt, ankles locked together and pressing into Steve’s lower back. She found herself glancing from mole to mole, mapping the constellations in her head. She’d never seen them from that angle before, so used to only ever tracing the moles on his back while he was asleep. It was like she was staring at an entirely new night sky, with so many stars yet to be named.

Even in the dim light, it seemed as though Billy glowed bright enough to reveal more than she’d ever been able to see.

Her eyes naturally fell to that one mole on his side that seemed like it was all alone. Bigger than all the others, just begging for her attention. Steve’s hips were moving at a much slower pace than what she was used to, and she was surprised that Billy wasn’t begging him “faster, faster,” like she would have expected—like she had been doing in the back of her mind. Their respective paces were mismatched, which made things slightly more difficult, but Nancy responded in the only way she knew how, and that was to simply follow Steve’s lead.

Edging wasn’t exactly easy without someone else’s manipulation, but Nancy was always up for a challenge.

She just kept focusing on all of the little details. Billy’s legs spread so wide she thought about how she could test just how flexible he really was. The pads of his fingers digging into the soft flesh of Steve’s lower back, creating crevasses and making themselves a home under Steve’s skin. Steve’s lips seemed to have a magnetic pull against them, landing anywhere and everywhere on Billy’s body that they could reach, admiring and relishing in it all as if Billy was something to be prized and worshiped.

Billy whimpered, the sound caught in the back of his throat somehow making its way passed his tightly sealed lips and heard.

Nancy continued to slow down, continued to focus on the little things, trying her best not to be too swayed by the sounds Billy was making. She wanted to match right up with them, perfectly in sync like a pair of world class synchronized swimmers. Billy’s toes curled, so did hers. She faked it, responding with his every move with an identical move until she didn’t have to anymore, and their breaths became perfectly aligned. The illusion became clear.

“Fuck, Steve.” Billy said with all of his breath. It was the first thing either of them had said since the beginning of their whole ordeal. Or, maybe they had said something prior, and Nancy had just been way too deep inside her head to hear any of it as it was said. Billy’s voice sounded nothing like it had before. That deep voice she just knew was fake was completely gone. The pitch was high, nearly unrecognizable and entirely authentic. The sound of his voice drew her attention back to him, and of course out of all the things to catch her eyes first, it was that dumb head of hair.

She never really appreciated how golden it was. Those blonde curls splayed against the mattress, gleaming from what little light poured in from outside Steve’s windows. It was pretty, she thought, and that surprised her. ‘Pretty’ was rarely a term she’d ever associated with a boy. In fact, the only boy she’d ever really thought was pretty was Steve—his deep brown eyes and chestnut brown hair all paired together with that soft smile—Steve was pretty. Billy wasn’t pretty, at least, she didn’t think so before. He was tough, gruff—he looked like he was born to be covered in grease and adorned with leather. Pretty—to Nancy—always meant soft. Billy wasn’t soft. He was hardened, rigid, sharp as a knife.

That was what she thought.

But looking at him underneath Steve—the soft hair, the soft features, the soft skin…god…Billy was so pretty. Blue eyes, golden hair with skin shown so much love from the sun, the curves of his body looking like the never-touched dunes in the desert, making a shape she wanted to trace with her fingers.

Billy whimpered again, and her entire body felt it.

God, she wanted to touch him. She wanted to be closer.

She felt so far away, despite being just barely out of arm's reach. The distance seemed to only grow right along with her desire to become part of it all, fully, in every way.

Billy moaned again, and so did Steve, simultaneously, like Steve was the melody and Billy was the harmony. They made a beautiful song together. Nancy wasn’t sure how she felt admitting that, but it was the truth.

Looking up, pulling herself from her thought tornado, she finally started to grasp the situation. She’d been so inside her head, she’d missed so much.

Billy was panting like he was on the brink of passing out, and Steve didn’t look much better. He was fucking Billy. Like, truly, fucking Billy. Nancy could only stare as he thrusted himself in and out at a very quick pace.

That was also the moment she realized that she’d fallen behind.

Those moans and whimpers only grew in frequency, right along with the release of desperate expletives and pleas from both parties taking up space on the bed. They were close. If Nancy didn’t know just by the scene alone, she knew for sure when Billy began to chant it—alerting everyone in the room the he was on the brink.

Nancy wasn’t, not even remotely. She’d been so focused on slowing herself down, she’d been lapped.

“Steve, I’m gonna cum!”

“Me too,” Steve exhaled the words, “cum with me.”

Nobody was waiting for her, and it was clear she had no shot at catching up now. Perhaps last place was just her destiny.

One of Steve’s hands traveled down until it had found itself wrapped around Billy’s cock, red-tipped and leaking pre, visibly aching to be touched. Steve’s other hand stayed put on Billy’s chest, squeezing Billy’s pec like it was his own personal stress reliever, making a point to drag a thumb over an erect nipple, keeping Billy extra stimulated.

Nancy was out of breath just watching. She’d picked up her pace and she felt close, just not close enough. Billy and Steve were miles ahead of her, assisted by their raging teenage boy hormones.

Billy’s lower lips stayed trapped between his teeth, for so long and with so much force Nancy was sure there’d be permanent indentations left after they finally released their hold. Still, even with all that effort, he couldn’t keep the cacophony at bay. Nancy just wished he’d let it out, because the sounds we’re doing just as much to her as the sight of the whole thing was.

Nope. Too late. It was too late.

The next thing she knew, as she sat there shamelessly touching herself, standing on her tallest tiptoes trying to reach the height the two boys in front of her were at, they were coming. She watched as Billy’s cum shot up and coated Steve’s stomach. She couldn’t actually see Steve coming as he was still buried deep inside Billy, but she could see it in his face—the way his jaw went slack and his eyebrows shot up to his hairline. She just kept trying, trying, trying.

Steve rolled over and collapsed on his back, completely spent. Nancy wasn’t sure exactly just how much time had elapsed, but it felt like an eternity and nothing at all at the exact same time. It was certainly not enough time for her as she sat there, the moment ruined, her orgasm hanging in the air just too far out of her reach.

She sat there and she closed her eyes, stretching as much as she could to reach what was so close, yet so far—too far. It was just too far.

Her breath remained unsteady as she sat there, daring to open her eyes again to take a look at the scene in front of her. At least they managed to enjoy themselves. That was what Nancy said she wanted. Right? Make Steve happy. Make him feel good. That was supposed to be enough, she thought.

She opened her eyes, and felt the immediate urge to shut them right back up when they were met with a pair of piercing blue from across the room. Billy was lying on his back, his hands coming to rest of his chest, right on top of Steve’s hand that remained through all of it. Billy was looking right at her. Steve wasn’t. He was on the side of Billy opposite of her, shielded by Billy’s body with his face buried in the pillows. He couldn’t possibly have known of the full conversation happening between her and Billy with just their stares alone.

Billy’s eyes barely moved from where they were locked in on hers, just glancing down for less than a second, looking straight at where her hand still breached the barrier of her waistband…then right back up. She half expected the next look to say it all, fill her with shame—it didn’t.

The look was almost…sad…in a way. She had no idea what she must have looked like from Billy’s point of view, but with a look like that, she could only assume she looked like a pathetic wreck. She assumed that the sad look was pitying.

She wanted to move—fix herself up and make herself more presentable, because she didn’t like how it felt as if there was a spotlight shining directly on her, lighting up all of her deepest insecurities for even the people sitting high up in the nosebleeds to see. None of what was happening was a part of her plan…although, thinking back, she never really got that far. She never considered what would happen in the aftermath.

But was it really the aftermath? In Billy’s eyes, maybe. In Steve’s eyes, definitely. But in her eyes?

Things hadn’t finished for her just yet. The only problem was, she was at a loss as to how she could possibly go about continuing.

Billy still stared at her, which only seemed to further complicate everything going on inside her head. She didn’t like how she couldn’t read his expression. Billy Hargrove was proving to be the one mystery she might need a little help with solving. She’d been going full sleuth all night, only to have been played a fool by Billy’s red herring.

His eyes on her made her skin crawl, and she did everything she could with her own stare to make him look away, or at the very least stop looking at her like that. Time felt frozen with his eyes on her. It felt like an eternity had passed.

She just stared back harder, adorning a look on her face just like El’s when she was moving things with her mind…angry looking—a little—but mostly just focused.

She felt stupid with her face stuck like that. She was just waiting for the pin to drop and the chorus of laughter to commence. That was always how it happened in movies. Somebody would do something embarrassing and not a soul alive wasn’t there to witness, taking only a second before raising their arms to point and laugh. They’d form a circle around her. They’d get closer and closer and she’d feel like the walls were closing in and soon enough she’d find breathing to be the hardest thing to do.

Of course, in actuality, it wasn’t like the movies. Nothing was. Not this time.

Those eyes that once stared at her, so unreadable, vanished, turned away in the opposite direction.

She took a breath, relaxing only a little. Then she realized.

Those eyes were facing Steve.

Suddenly all she wanted was him to look at her again, or at the very least, see what they looked like…despite the fact that they never told her a thing.

She didn’t like any of what was going on. She didn’t like how it felt like she was just waiting for something to happen. She didn’t like how it felt like she had lost all of her control over the situation. She hated that the most, being left to the mercy of other people.

Then, there was whispering, and she hated that even more.

It was what she’d asked for, to be left out of the equation—that pesky little remainder in a division problem.

She thought that was what she wanted.

It was becoming more and more evident by the minute that, even if their equation wasn’t clean, where everything could just be so evenly divided, she wanted to be a part of it—included, like a fraction, rational.

She wanted to know what they were saying.

She wanted to ask. She wanted to use that snark she practiced so well and remind them that whispering was rude when other people were around. She wanted to inject herself into their conversation, and she would have if her lips hadn’t felt like they’d been sealed shut.

It was awful. She felt so weak. She hated feeling weak.

She wanted to scream, but those sealed lips wouldn’t come loose even for that.

The whispering stopped. That was the first thing she noticed. Then, she noticed blue eyes back on her. Then she noticed those blue eyes had company.

Steve was finally looking at her. For a moment, when it was just Billy looking at her, she’d forgotten Steve was even in the room.

Usually she loved it when Steve looked at her. She loved when his eyes would always find hers from across any room, or when they were alone, watching something on TV, and his eyes would drift off the screen just to stare at her. She loved it especially when they were having sex, when he couldn’t take his eyes off of her, his pupils blown wide. Earlier, she had been hoping he’d look over at her. Now, all she wanted was for him to look away.

The eyes on Steve were just like the eyes on Billy. Sure they were deep brown, not a piercing blue. They weren’t that look of love and lust she had been yearning for. They were sad eyes of unnecessary concern and the weakness continued to seep into her.

Then there was a shift, and her gaze was pulled from the trance of Steve’s eyes, down just slightly to the source of the sound—the creaking crumple of moving limbs on a spring mattress.

Billy had rolled over onto his side, his whole naked body turned towards her. It was a vulnerable position, she noted. She thought back to the beginning of the night…god…how long ago was that? For her it felt like it had been forever ago, but really it could’ve only been a matter of maybe twenty minutes…

Twenty minutes or forever ago, Billy had been in her position—put on the spot, nervous, out of the loop, terrified, uncertain…there were more words, all of them running through her head like she’d consumed the whole thesaurus. There Billy was, lying in a bed with her boyfriend, fully naked, still coming down from the effects of the orgasm said boyfriend had given him. There he was with an outstretched hand, branching out towards her.

She remembered looking at him, smiling, and attempting to settle all those nerves he’d built up inside of him with her simple “it’s okay, Billy.”

She could only assume that was what the outstretched arm was. It was Billy—and Steve’s—way of telling her that it was okay.

It shouldn’t have been so simple, but upon her own realization, the tightness in her gut began to dissipate.

It was little, minuscule, but enough nonetheless to at least melt her out of her frozen situation—the hand that had stayed beneath the wire of her bra, clinging to her breast like a lifeline, moved down and out, and slowly met Billy’s still outstretched hand.

It felt so weird, especially with her other hand still where it was. She wanted to move it for dignity’s sake, but at the same time…she wanted to finish. Usually, she was okay with going without, but not now. Not this time. This time was different. It was her idea. She’d been thinking about it everyday for a week. She deserved her own happy ending just as much as they did.

She just kept looking back at them, trying to make them feel just as vulnerable as she did so that they were all finally on a level playing field.

Nancy hadn’t realized until her hand had finally made contact with Billy’s, their fingertips grazing past one another until they were both holding on, and she’d felt a pull…she may have misinterpreted the meaning of the outstretched hand.

Billy hadn’t yanked her by any means, but the pull was still strong. Strong enough that, given how she was caught so off guard, she was easily carried out of her chair. She had no way to fight against what she hadn’t expected in the first place. She quickly went from a seated position to standing, the heel she’d been riding falling to the floor with an ungraceful thump to the floor. Everything had, somehow, become ten times more awkward than it had the whole night…and obviously, that was saying something.

The night hadn’t seemed to really follow the rules of time. It was forever and twenty minutes, alternating between moments of fast and slow. Always too fast, and too slow.

This was the first time in the night that the timing seemed just right. Because everything started moving really fast.

Billy had sat up and moved his body to the edge of the bed, leaving an open space next to a rather confused Steve.

He’s leaving?

That was Nancy’s first thought. She could hardly admit it to herself, but there was no denying the feeling. Every ache in her gut told her she did not want that.

Though, she still hadn’t found her voice yet to say anything about it.

Billy was still holding her hand, and guiding her. She liked this. Normally she liked being the one in control—the one with the game plan—but in this instance, she was happy to follow someone else’s lead. She’d had enough of a spotlight.

Billy had guided her exactly where she expected, right into that open spot next to Steve, who just looked at her with a smile. By this point, Billy had finally let go, and she’d finally pulled her hand out from her waistband, making both hands free to do exactly what she’d been dying to do…touch.

She brought her hand up to cup Steve’s face, and she couldn’t hold herself back from kissing him. She had to. She thought she might die if she didn’t. She could also tell he was a bit shaky, part of it likely due to his own come down—she’d never seen him cum like that before…she knew, logically, that should’ve made her feel a type of way. It didn’t.

The other reason for the shakiness, well, that was just the even playing field at work.

The kiss was short, just enough for a taste and the gift of some much needed confidence. They parted, and she was surprised to find that Billy had made no attempt to make his escape. He just stood there looking at them with his knees pressing against the edge of the bed.

She half expected time to slow, just like it had in all her moments of uncertainty, but the speed continued to progress.

Billy bent over, wrapping his hands around Nancy’s ankles as he crawled back onto the bed.

Okay. So. He definitely wasn’t leaving.

Nancy looked to Steve, hoping he’d have an answer to at least one of the million questions flying through his head. He seemed to be able to read her mind. Unfortunately for her, she was only met with the shake of a head. So he couldn’t even answer one. Great.

Billy’s hands began to move north. Up. Up. They were at her knees.

Too fast.

She went to speak, but none of the words she had on her tongue would come out. All she could do to tell him to slow down was to tense, and pull her knees up.

“Sorry.” Billy said, and again, she realized, they’d been silent that whole time. Billy was the only one with the courage to speak.

Nancy took a deep breath, reminding her of everything she had witnessed up until this point. Reminding herself that Billy wasn’t scary, that she had Steve right beside her, that everything was equally scary for all three of them.

“What’s happening?” She managed to get those two words out. No more than that, just enough. She was less focused on the chosen words and more on the tone of voice, making sure she didn’t come off as angry or annoyed or any other emotion other than curiosity, because if what she thought was happening was indeed happening…she really didn’t want to scare him off.

She just wanted to be in the loop.

Billy still looked like he’d been frightened in spite of Nancy’s attempts, but he didn’t pull his hands away. They were still touching her knees. That had to count for something.

Nancy wanted to look over at Steve. She could feel his heavy breathing on her neck. She couldn’t, though. She had to keep her eyes on Billy as she awaited an answer.

Which was the best decision, because she was able to watch the lines on his face change with a release of tension as the fright formed into a new emotion. She got to watch as he put on a shy smile—shy…huh, she was still getting used to that.

“I just figured…” he began. His words were slow and obviously carefully chosen. “It’s not fair that only Steve and I have all the fun.”

Nancy felt her breath stop, the sharp inhale lodged in the back of her throat. Her whole body felt like it had gone numb, all except for her stomach, where she could feel the butterflies coming to life again.

“I thought—” the two words came out of her mouth in haste, the thoughts in her head being forced into words on her lips, no idea of the ones that would follow. Fortunately for her, the thought that had come out was an incomplete one, giving her ample time to clamp her lips closed and finish her thought before sharing it with the rest of the world.

She thought…she thought…Fuck! She didn’t even know what she thought, or, at least, her brain was suddenly at a loss for the word…or…well…the appropriate word.

In the narrative she created in her head, Billy only had eyes for Steve—for the boy, not the girl. In the story she wrote, Billy’s womanizer reputation was merely a facade, or a cover. It wasn’t truth. She’d been picking up evidence all night that seemed to prove every suspicion, theory, and story she came up with about that one piece. All until the moment Billy laid his hands on her. She thought…

“I thought,” she repeated, the words leaving her again without warning, “you were…?”

She trailed off, the unsaid word left hanging in the hair. She’d found the word she’d been looking for, but she couldn’t say it. It wasn’t the kind of word you said out loud in Indiana.

Billy seemed to understand that fact too, probably a lot more intimately than she did, judging by the look on his face. He looked relieved that she hadn’t said it. Then he sighed. “I am,” he said simply.

She had to double back, make sure he was answering the question she thought she had asked him. It just made her even more confused. “But?” Again with the incomplete sentences.

Billy was quick to respond. “It’s not like it’s a hardship, Nancy,” he said. “You wouldn’t be the first girl, and I’m sure you’ve heard the reviews.”

She had. Of course she had. She could always hear the girls whispering and giggling at the back of the class, going on and on about how Billy would go down on them. Initially, the first time she heard it, it made her want to gag.

Billy hadn’t existed in her pool of interest. Not until Steve had dragged him in against her will just to leave her sitting there with Billy at her knees, with the proposition at her feet, thinking about all those things she once heard those girls say and no longer feeling the need to gag.

“Are you sure?” It was all she could think to ask, because she feared saying anything more might scare him off. It was his fault she was thinking about the rumors. It was his fault she was curious to see for herself how true they were, even if curiosity had struck before. She pushed away that little part of herself that wanted to pry into Billy’s whole ordeal, and dissect the slight frown that disappeared quickly. She could worry about that later.

She just shook it off, and focused her attention back on Billy, staring him down like she was drilling holes with her eyes.

“I offered,” he said simply, “if it’s fine by you two, it’s fine by me.”

You two. Right. There were three of them there.

Steve was still at her side. She’d forgotten he was even there. Everything had just felt so intimate between her and Billy in that moment. She looked over at him, her neck feeling a little stiff, and she wondered if it actually felt that way, or if her brain was just tricking her to keep her from looking away from Billy.

Billy who was promising her Heaven, or something close to it.

Still, she strained against her muscles to look over at Steve, because of course he was the one standing in her way.

It was only fair, she thought. She was simply reiterating Billy’s initial point, but it remained true in her mind.

But, they hadn’t discussed anywhere beyond what Steve was allowed to do with Billy. They never ventured into the territory of herself taking part in the activity. Was it really fair to assume Steve would be okay with it? It was her idea after all, not his.

She looked at him, expecting an answer to come eventually, all the while mulling over everything and trying to reach a conclusion of what she might do if Steve were to decide he wasn’t okay with it.

Steve wasn’t looking at Billy when he next spoke. He looked at her, and every instinct was telling her to turn away, terrified of the look on Steve’s face when he would inevitably say no. She tried to look away, but she was frozen, forced to witness it all crumble before her eyes.

Except, everything remained intact. The foundation stayed strong enough to hold them.

It appeared Steve had been just as limited for words as she was, saying “yes” and “it’s okay with me” and anything else she and Billy may have needed to confirm consent with a simple nod of his head, and little reluctance behind his eyes.

And the reason behind that minimal reluctance was made clear by the few words he managed to ask Billy.

“What do I…?” Steve couldn’t finish his sentences either, apparently. What do I do during all of this? That was the question he was trying to ask. It was a good question, and she’d learned early on that Steve preferred to have a game plan.

Billy smiled at that, and it was in that moment that Billy finally took his hands off of her knees. The weight being lifted off of her made it feel as though her legs were levitating off of the bed.

Billy was crawling forward, except not towards her, but towards Steve. It only took him half of a foot in length to reach him, but once he did, he didn’t even take a breath before kissing Steve.

It was different that time. It wasn’t filled with heat and lust. It was closer to the kind of kiss someone might give to their significant other in the morning. Soft and chaste. It was like the kisses Steve gave her behind the privacy of an open locker door while the bell was still ringing.

Though, from the outside perspective looking in, the feeling it gave her was nowhere near the same. The blood quickly rushed to her cheeks and the butterflies that had seemed to have gone dormant in her bout of anxiety sprang back to life, fluttering around inside her stomach, and down. Tingling.

She watched Steve sink and melt and it was as if all of his worries had been swept away with the single, soft touch of Billy’s lips. It was incredible, really. You never really get the time to think too much about how a kiss makes you feel, so caught up in the moment, the memory of it only tangible during contact. She could see it now, though, and she wondered if Steve looked like that when he was kissing her. She could only hope.

The kiss was short, but to her it had felt like time had frozen still and she was just privy to their freeze frame. In reality it was just her own mind failing to keep up with the fastly growing pace of everything, when suddenly they had parted and Billy finally gave an answer to Steve’s unfinished question.

“Just kiss your girlfriend, Steve.” he said, his hand still gracing the side of Steve’s cheek, “I’ll take care of the rest.”

Billy’s voice was both incredibly reassuring and enticing. He backed away from Steve and looked at Nancy again, asking the question with his eyes alone, and earning a nod, no more words were left to be exchanged.

Billy’s hands made their way back to her knees, and she tried to watch as the moments started to unfold, but her vision was cut off by the boy to her left, taking her gently by the chin and doing just as Billy had said.

The weight of her own head had quickly become too heavy for her neck to hold, and she slowly lowered herself down until her head met the pillow, not once parting her and Steve’s connection at the lips. She was truly sinking—melting, just as Steve had been just seconds before. She was feeling every feeling she had witnessed, feeling the drug of Steve’s kiss begin to take effect, washing her cares away, and allowing her to succumb to the moment.

The moment—Billy’s hands running up her inner thighs and up onto her hips, feeling his hands form a ‘V’ at the thumbs, framing her like a photo.

He was slow with her, just like Steve had been with him. Perhaps that was where he learned it from, absorbing it all like a sponge. She was given every chance to stop his next move. She didn’t.

She held her breath as Billy’s fingers grazed the skin below her navel. She had become hyper aware in that moment of just how desperately she needed to be touched. She pulled back from Steve, resting her forehead against his in a moment of weakness. The contact at least gave her back her ability to breathe, the heat of her breath falling right into Steve’s open mouth.

Steve’s hands started to move, no longer pressed into the mattress in an attempt to keep his posture. They were snaking around to the small of her back, below the fabric of her shirt, skin against skin. His hand moved up her back along with the hem of her shirt, slowly rising to expose her whole stomach. The chill of the open air against previously covered skin caused her to shiver.

Steve took that as an opportunity to swallow her hot breath, kissing her while continuing to inch his hand up her back until he finally found what he was looking for—the clasp of her bra. It was something he’d always been so boisterous about—his ability to unclasp a bra with only one hand. To her and every other girl, it wasn’t that much of a talent, but she couldn’t say she minded that he was always so smooth with it.

Though, it was hard for her to focus on any of that when Billy was slowly unbuttoning and unzipping her, revealing her, exposing the one part of her that was just aching to be touched. The barrier slowly—teasingly—being removed just made that area even more desperate for stimulation.

Her focus on one single thing started to wane as both Steve and Billy’s hands started to do different but equal things to her on opposite sides of her body. Steve’s hands slithered to her front, stopping to rest just below the now loose underwire. She knew her chest was rising visibly, and she knew that Steve could feel it. Maybe that was why he let his hand sit there unmoving.

Though, there was no way Steve could’ve been sure that he was the one responsible for her heavy breathing, because Nancy wasn’t even too sure herself, not with Billy below her waist with a rogue finger sliding below the line of her underwear, not quite touching her yet, but definitely too close for comfort.

Just the thought alone of how close caused something inside of her to escape. Something that she knew would have been better kept hidden, at least for her own pride’s sake. The sound escaped past her lips, and despite them being smothered by Steve’s, there was no doubt the sound was heard.

She could barely hear a thing, it was like her ears were clogged shut, cause the laugh that escaped Billy’s mouth was muffled. But, she didn’t have to hear him laugh to know that he had heard her, because that rogue finger sliding around started to move closer…and closer…and…

Stars.

She squeezed her eyes shut so tight that she really was seeing stars, and just as she was beginning to feel a little less like she was falling from the sky, Steve had to keep on moving that damn hand of his, up…and up…and up…

“Mmm-Fuck.”

If she hadn’t lost all sensation in her arms, she would’ve slapped a hand right over her mouth. She just kept her eyes shut, because even if logically she knew neither of them were laughing at her, she simply couldn’t bear to look.

She just closed her eyes, kept them closed, and reminded herself of everything that preceded her lying on that bed with not one, but two other men…boys?? Whatever. She kept letting herself forget that little mantra—pretend like nobody’s watching. She just wished they would tell her…though, she guessed she shouldn’t complain considering the feeling she was trying to hide, that good—amazing—feeling…well, she was just going to have to let them continue to work their magic.

Even with her eyes sealed shut, she could see every move they made like a movie playing on the inside of her eyelids. Every physical sensation was so visual. The cool air meeting her once covered hips following the friction of denim dragging against sweaty skin, the weight of Steve’s hand over her breast, his palm warm, and his tongue licking into her mouth, slow and savoring—she could see it all. It was like it wasn’t her. It was like she was watching someone else be stripped down and felt up.

Though, the only thing she cared about was the fact that it was working. She was relaxed, and it felt good.

Really good.

Before she knew it, her jeans were being pulled over her ankles, and she couldn’t even care about how exposed she was, wearing nothing but a hiked up shirt and lacey panties. All she could care about was how close she was from going from feeling really good to insanely good.

Finally regaining strength in her arms, she reached up and pulled Steve in closer, deepening the kiss. She wasn’t afraid when he was close. She was starting to realize she had nothing to fear about Billy either. In some weird and twisted way, his presence was a comfort too.

It was very possible it was only the lust talking, but she didn’t have the time or the care to dissect any of that.

Her near-limp body rolled as Billy inched his way back up the bed, his weight creating dips in the mattress that she fell into. Billy’s breath was hot against her stomach, and she knew what that meant. Not just that Billy’s face was there—the temperature giving her something very vivid to cast in the blank space created from her still closed eyes—but…his face was there. It was close. Everything she wanted was right there.

All she could hear were the echoes of past gossip about Billy Hargrove that she never managed to tune out, no matter how hard she tried.

“So…is Billy a good kisser?”

The group of girls in the back of the lunchroom sat huddled, as if that had given them any semblance of privacy. The reality was that their giggles could be heard throughout the whole cafeteria. Nancy walked by the group with her lunch tray, annoyed by their loud whispering.

She couldn’t understand how Hargrove had gotten all the other girls to swoon over him, and she was tired of hearing about it. He’d barely been in town for a week.

Though, she couldn’t help herself but listen in. She didn’t want to hear about Billy’s sexcapades with the entire Hawkins High female population, necessarily. But at the same time, she liked to have all the info, and for some reason she needed to add whether or not Billy Hargrove was a good kisser into his file she had stored in her brain.

Out of the corner of her eye Nancy could see that the girl who had been posed the question was blushing red and laughing nervously. She had her head bowed slightly and didn’t meet eyes with any of her friends sharing a table with her.

“You could say that.” she said.

Nancy nearly stopped dead in her tracks. The tone of that girl's voice said a lot more than what she was telling anyone with her words. If that hadn’t been obvious enough, the gasp let out by another girl at the table sealed the deal.

“Are you saying???!!”

“He DIDN’T!!”

“OH MY GOD!!”

Fortunately for Nancy she’d reached her table by that point, so nobody had to witness what would’ve happened had she not had a steady surface to rest against has her knees buckled.

She was pulled out of her thoughts from the sensation of her body growing colder, caused by more absent clothing. She felt the cool air hit her chest first, as Steve began lifting her shirt up until the bottom hem had reached her neck. It was then that they parted once more, but only for as long as it took to get her shirt over her head and take her bra the rest of the way off.

She had been so preoccupied with that, and working through the straight jacket her tight fitting top had created for her, that she only noticed the breeze on her lower half when her panties were already halfway down to her knees.

The only way she could describe the situation was that it felt heavy. Like she had been pinned by a barbell loaded with too much weight.

Then Steve put his lips back on her and she felt just a little bit lighter, her back arching a little bit more on the bed, and it quickly started to make some sense. Though, it wasn’t something she could quite put into words.

Steve sucked the weight from her. That was the best she could do. She watched as her vision fully faded despite her eyes being wide open. Aside from that, every sensation was heightened tenfold. She could feel the hairs on her arms stand up like evergreens, she could hear the quietest sound from Steve’s swallow to Billy’s lips smacking.

She could feel Billy’s every exhale brush her skin. His nose wasn’t touching her, but it might as well have been because she swore she could feel it.

Which meant she was not at all prepared for what it would be like to actually feel it.

It was the build up, the anticipation, the vivid thought and imagination about what it would be like. It was something she never really allowed herself to want or crave and it was in her hands.

For a while, it all seemed to wrong. It seemed wrong to want something like that. It seemed wrong to want something like that while simultaneously having a boyfriend. Every step they had taken since Steve admitted to her what he and Billy had done in the boys bathroom at school had felt like a step in the wrong direction. It wasn’t the way it was supposed to go. Everyone would say that.

But Nancy knew. She knew this was right.

She was ready to narrate the whole thing like the moon landing, countdown and dramatic effect, but before she could even start counting…

Touchdown.

The first thing she felt was nothing at all, but everything at the same time. It was so intense that it was like her nerves shut down for a few moments, like someone going into shock. The world seemed to slow to a stop. Steve’s lips on her neck felt like they were barely moving, and Billy…

Before she could even process what was going on in that region, the world picked up the pace, and everything was back to regular speed…which, after spending an eternity in slow-motion, felt entirely too fast.

She could gather two things about what Billy was doing to her. The specific actions were lost, but what she did know was that A. it felt amazing, and B. he clearly knew what he was doing. What started out as intense pressure grew into something more, leading her to fall even deeper into the absolute mess she was before. Her toes curled so tight they started to cramp. Her hands gripping tightly where they’d found themselves buried into Steve’s hair like she was holding on for dear life.

Steve didn’t react much at all to his own hair being ripped from his scalp, making no effort to move himself away from where he laid with his face buried in the crook of her neck.

She wondered if he really knew what Billy was doing to her two feet away from him. His lips hadn’t once left their place against her skin, not enough for his eyes to catch a glimpse of what she could only imagine to be an intensely pornographic display. Nothing but Billy’s stray blonde curls peeking out between her spread legs. Framing him perfectly. Like an art piece. She’d be staring if she could only lift her head up.

How could Steve not want to look?

Why did she want him to?

Maybe it was just her dying to live vicariously through him. Maybe it was because at least she could see the look on his face. Maybe it was because at least someone would get to see.

Holy Hell, she was really letting herself get swept away by the Billy Hargrove effect.

Somehow that was the most embarrassing thing of all.

Nonetheless, despite being overtaken by everything else happening upon the weight of so many thoughts screaming through her head, she mustered up the energy to strip Steve away from her collarbone. Rolling her head towards him and pushing him out of the way. A free hand reaching up and lifting him up just a couple inches towards the sky. Enough to shock him into taking his first deep breath in what to her had felt like forever.

She finally opened her eyes, and they had been squeezed shut so tightly for so long that it took a little more than a few seconds to adjust and make out Steve’s face. When she finally could, he was still staring down at her. But the look in his eyes wasn’t one of focus. His eyes weren’t stuck on her like glue like the boys in the movies watching the girl of their dreams walk past them, unable to look away. His eyes were focused, like he was straining to keep them turned her way. It wasn’t like the rest of the world had disappeared, like Billy wasn’t there. She could see that he knew, that he felt like he couldn’t allow himself to look.

She knew because she knew the feeling. Afraid to look. Afraid to let herself have that. Afraid of what people might think if they knew.

Fuck that.

With those same two fingers that still grazed Steve’s chin, she gave him the push that she had given herself. The shove over the cliff, trusting the water to break your fall. Trusting that everything would be fine in the end, and you’d be glad that you did it.

He didn’t fight the nudge, like he was waiting for her to give him that. Permission. She had already given him that, but she recognized that the doubt wasn’t just going to go away with a magic word.

It was wrong. That was how they had all been raised. They weren’t supposed to want this, and if they found themselves with the temptation, they were supposed to push it down. Out of sight. Never indulge.

If she could find the words, she’d remind him that they were well past that.

But the nudge was enough. She was no longer the focus of Steve’s attention. Billy was. She felt him against her hip. He was hard…again. It was impossible to miss with Steve instinctively using the side of her body for friction.

And Nancy had the perfect view as Steve’s pupils were blown wide. The perfect view of his mouth dropping open, drool pooling at his lower lip, the breath being sucked out of him, along with the word that seemed to be on everybody’s tongue.

“Fuck.”

That did it. That had done it. It was like her lungs suddenly stopped taking in air and the floaty, out-of-body fantasyland she was just living in disappeared at the seams.

It was back to high-speed, feeling every sensation, everywhere, so overwhelming, so right. She was watching it all unfold right inside Steve’s eyes. For a second she could actually see a birds eye view of the whole scene. She could see everything Steve was seeing. She could see Billy buried between her thighs, refusing to come up for air—she’d overheard somewhere that he was a swimmer, figures—using every trick in the book, everything he had at his disposal. It was everything. God it was everything.

It was happening. She knew that and Steve must’ve noticed something too seeing as how the hand of his that had still been on her breast had flinched, like he was trying to reach for something else…someone else.

Nancy stopped him in his tracks, though. Slamming her hand right on top of his because it was happening. She looked at him desperately, her chest rising up and down erratically. Steve glanced her way for just a second long enough to see, looking away from Billy, which she could only assume felt impossible, judging by the look of absolute desire written all over his face.

Then he did even more of the impossible. He took one last glance over at Billy, his breathing stopping completely, biting his lips, his eyes glossed over because he didn’t dare blink. He was savoring the moment, she figured out, because the next thing she knew Steve was no longer looking at Billy, nor was he looking at her. The world went dark as Steve’s frame eclipsed her view completely, sinking down into her lips. His hands remained where she kept them, starting to move once more, no longer stunned frozen by southern beauty.

And Billy, she hadn’t forgotten about him. No amount of mind wandering and Steve existing was taking her attention away from down below. Her toes were curling more than what she believed to be physically possible. The hand still on top of Steve’s was gripping him like a life preserver, sure enough to leave a bruise or two. Both of them with their mouths on her…it was entirely and blissfully suffocating.

She was fully engulfed, she couldn’t get any breath in or out and yet there was still enough open space for the noises to escape past her lips. A whimper followed by a moan that caused Steve to let up just enough to crack a smile. Billy didn’t let it affect him though, he didn’t stop, he kept going, taking everything with him to the finish line.

It was right there. She could taste it.

Right…

There.

All at once her heels slid down the mattress until her legs were perfectly straight and her toes were pointed like a ballerina, her grip on Steve tensed even harder, so hard she was sure she heard him whimper out in pain, her back arched so high that she wasn’t so sure she wasn’t being pulled to the ceiling by some invisible string.

All of that happened as quick as it disappeared, her legs went numb, her hand went limp, she sunk back down into the mattress and it felt like she was falling, as if the mattress was no longer there to stop her descent.

The world had gone dark. Like everything stopped existing. Something hot rushed up her body and pooled in her ears. When the heat went away, she started to shake like she was cold.

Slowly, one by one she regained each of her senses. The first to return was sound, but all she could hear was heavy breathing. She couldn’t distinguish which breath belonged to who, but she was able to determine all three of them were contributing.

Soon her sight followed, the room fading into picture, the dark room suddenly feeling so very bright. All she could see was the ceiling—Steve’s lips were no longer on her. That was when the numbness turned to tingling, and the tingling turned to feeling.

The first thing she felt was Steve’s hand still on her chest, with her hand still on top of it, still holding him in place. Quickly she realized that Steve’s hand was the only thing touching her. Steve’s hand was the only thing in direct contact with her aside from the bed underneath her. Still she knew Steve was still there, even though she couldn’t move enough to turn her head to look at him. She knew Billy hadn’t moved either. He wasn’t touching her, but she could feel his warm breath against her right thigh. She pictured him laying there, his energy spent, still just trying to catch his breath right along with the rest of them.

She felt something else on her thigh. Her other thigh. On the outside. A breeze swept through the room, the air hitting that specific spot quite differently from the rest of her body where sweat was cooling all over.

Context clues gave it away. She was sure she wasn’t the only one to finish. Steve’s heavy breathing and attempts at staying outside her view was enough to figure that out.

He was embarrassed, which was exhausting to realize. She figured they’d already jumped over all of the hurdles earlier.

Still, she had sympathy for him, and she knew better not to say anything about it. That part was for them. Just them. It could wait.

Instead, she finally forced her body to find the ability to move, and with that she also regained her ability to speak.

“Come here,” she said, turning her head, no longer allowing Steve to hide. With the hand that still held Steve’s she interlaced their fingers and initiated a tug. “Kiss me.”

Steve was slow, but not hesitant. The kiss was soft, gentle, and mostly cheste save for the slightest bit of tongue sneaking through before he pulled away. It reminded her a lot of his and Billy’s first—well…the first one that she had seen anyway.

Soon following there was a creak in the mattress by her legs. She lifted her head to see Billy standing to his feet.

She hadn’t forgotten he was there. Though, he had been so quiet for a moment there that she could see how someone else might have.

Billy paused, looking down at her and Steve, having naturally fallen into each other, almost entangled. It was like he was waiting for something to happen.

Before Nancy could even begin to try and piece together what could’ve been going through Billy’s head, the pause was over, and what followed was unexpected, but in hindsight really shouldn’t have been.

He started gathering up his clothes from the floor, quickly, like he was in a hurry. He wasn’t looking at them anymore, like they ceased from existence. But Billy’s demeanor—hiding his naked body with each stray article of clothing—said the opposite.

Steve seemed to have been paying just as much attention to Billy as she had, or even more. He sat up almost completely, letting go of Nancy’s hand in the process, leaving her completely untouched this time.

Billy didn’t notice, or at least he didn’t show it. He just kept moving, sliding into his boxers with his back facing them. When he started slipping one leg into his jeans, Steve lurched forward.

“Are you leaving?” He asked, and Nancy could only describe his voice as disappointment.

Billy stopped at that, and chanced a look back at that, turning only his head and keeping his back turned to them. Nancy had finally figured out how to read the unreadable. He was confused, and dare she assume, sad.

“I figured you two would want your privacy,” he said it so bluntly, and that all but confirmed what she was thinking.

What followed was another lull. Nobody could move. Nobody seemed to know what the right move was supposed to be.

Until Billy had decided the right move was to keep getting himself dressed, which she recognized to be the wrong move when Steve lurched forward, grabbing Billy by the wrist and stopping him, right then and there.

She expected Steve to say something, but the room remained silent. Another pause. Another goddamn suffocating pause.

Before she had time to process anything, Steve turned around, not letting up his grip on Billy’s wrist, and looked at her.

He didn’t say it. He couldn’t. She knew what he was asking. He didn’t have to. The look in his eyes told her more than enough. She could see the desperation, the longing, the embarrassment, the pleading, the need.

She didn’t have to say it either. She just smiled back at him.

Steve quickly turned back to Billy.

“You don’t have to leave,” Steve said.

Billy attempted to pull away from him, but not hard enough. Nancy knew he could if he wanted to. It didn’t take a genius to tell that Billy was just as strong if not stronger than Steve. He wasn’t putting up much of a fight. Billy wanted to stay. Everyone knew it.

Steve pulled against his wrist, not hard, but quick enough that it caught Billy off guard, enough to cause him to stumble. Enough for him to nearly fall into Steve’s lap.

He didn’t try moving away after that.

Steve cautiously brought his free hand up to Billy’s cheek, gliding the knuckle of his index down to his chin. There was no pulling, Billy just seemed to know to follow the direction of Steve’s finger. Down, closer, closer…

They didn’t kiss, but they were certainly as close as possible to each other as they could have been. It was like they were waiting for gravity to do the rest.

“Stay,” she heard Steve whisper, and it caused a chill to run down her spine, and she wasn’t even the one he was saying it to.

Gravity seemed to finally take over, because next thing she knew Billy was sinking. She decided to look away that time. She decided that this one was allowed to be just for them.

“Stay.” She heard him say it again, and at that she looked back at them.

Billy was looking at her when she did.

He looked at her just like Steve, except unlike Steve, he was scared shitless.

She knew words wouldn’t be enough, and she wasn’t going to kiss him into submission like Steve was able to do. That wouldn’t work.

All she did was move over, closer to the end of her side of the bed, opening up enough space for two more bodies to lay down comfortably. That said all it needed to.

She was right.

Steve crawled back into the bed, settling down right in the middle, and much to everyone’s satisfaction, Billy followed him, kicking his jeans back off on the way down.

It took a minute for them all to get comfortable, each of them maneuvering their way underneath the covers, finding themselves each a position that was the most comfortable.

Nancy had grown cold, the covers only doing so much. She snuggled into Steve for warmth. He was lying on his back, but his head was facing the other way.

He was facing Billy, and she tried her best to be discreet as she peeked her head over Steve to see the two of them. Billy had his head on Steve’s chest, just the way she always did. Steve had his fingers running through Billy’s hair. It was always the other way around. It was always her.

She wasn’t used to that.

But she was starting to learn that she might have to get used to that.

Through all of it, Nancy somehow never once entertained the possibility that Steve’s feelings for Billy—and Billy’s feelings for Steve—went beyond something more than just sexual. It was becoming painstakingly clear that it was much, much more than either of them were letting on.

But, what was even worse was that she just might be okay with that too.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #stranger things #steve/billy/nancy #trigonometry #mandi writes tresh #fic #stancy #yes I’m alive #yes the long forever awaited final chapter is here #AND IT IS 19K! #WHAT

[chickensarentcheap]

In a Heartbeat- Part One

FANDOM: EXTRACTION

PAIRING: TYLER RAKE AND ESME DRUMMOND (ESTABLISHED OFC)

WARNINGS: angst. Big time angst.

SUMMARY:  Dhaka nearly ended everything before it even began.  In it’s aftermath and with Tyler’s life teetering on the threshold between life and death, Esme is about to realize just how strong she can be.  And that love happens when it happens. There’s no rules. No rhyme or reason. No timeline.  

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48691714/chapters/122826046

Tagging: @tragiclyhip @youflickedtooharddamnit @munstysmind @secretaryunpaid @arrthurpendragon @karimac @ninjasawakenedmystar @starryeyes2000​ @kmc1989 @timbradfordsboot @themaradwrites @asirensrage @residentdormouse @thesirenrealm @ocappreciationtag​ @occommunity​ @thebewingedjewelcat​

My tag list is OPEN. Just let me know if you’d like to be added :) ​

*****

Author’s note:  This is a little three-part companion piece to the Tyler and Esme series. However, it follows the timeline of Extraction 2 and contains canon events from the movie. So there are slight spoilers ahead! You’ve been warned :)   You do not need to have read any of the other fics to understand this one. 

This has been a ‘thing’ in progress for a while now.  Something wanted to write about Tyler’s time in the hospital and Esme’s decision to give up her life as she knew it to stick around and support him through it.  I think @tragiclyhip​ had probably heard about my plans for this about a dozen times in the past two years alone LOL.   But the hospital scenes in E2 encouraged me to finally get off my butt and write it.  

A huge thanks to @tragiclyhip​ for the incredible story cover and to @youflickedtooharddamnit​ for coming up with the perfect title! Love you guys :D 

*****

She’s used to it now. The steady hums and beeps of the machines that keep him alive.  

Every new day is like the one before it.   Four months of repeating the same actions from morning until night.  And despite the sterile confines of the Intensive Care Unit, she’s managed to settle into a familiar and somewhat comfortable routine;   on a first-name basis with many of the nurses and support staff,  and the ‘on-ward’ coffee shop baristas able to recite her usual order from sheer memory.  Extra large tea.  Three milk. No sugar.   A toasted bagel with peanut butter for breakfast.  A fruit and yogurt parfait for lunch.  A bowl of soap or a salad for dinner.

Sometimes both.

Her brain is saturated with mundane and useless details; ridiculous little tidbits of information that help keep her sane and functioning. She knows it’s forty-seven paces to the private washroom, another hundred and ten to the kitchen and common area set up for patients’ family members.  And that the vending machine by the communal laundry room is temperamental;  every third quarter is only accepted if you first vigorously rub the edge of it along the metal slot. 

It’s as far as she’s gone.  She hasn’t dared to venture beyond the ward; filled with a sense of dread that the moment she steps foot outside of it, the worst will happen.  As if the shadow of death is just lingering in the corner;  licking its lips as it anxiously and patiently awaits her departure.  Feeling as if she can somehow ward it off if she stays nearby;  not giving that cold and unforgiven hand a chance to get close enough to grab hold of him.  And she’s determined to fight the demon off as long as she possibly can.  

Whether that’s weeks or months. Or even years.  

“You can’t keep doing this to yourself,” Nik had lamented, attempting to cut through that wall built with immense stubbornness and unshakable paranoia.  “You can’t let yourself get rooted to this place. This SPOT.   This isn’t what he would want.”

She’d wanted to tell Nik that perhaps she didn’t know Tyler as well as she thought she did.  After all, she’d never been privy to the sides of him that existed beyond being mercenary;  at her beck and call whenever a job required ‘the best of the best’.   Was it through her own disinterest? Did she simply not care about the human being and only the seemingly fearless ‘gun for hire’? Or was it Tyler’s doing? A case of not allowing or wanting her to get that close? A defensive mechanism perhaps;  weighed down by layers of trauma and loss as he somehow tries to prevent himself from drowning in an angry, unrelenting sea of guilt and regret.  

And she’d found herself irrationally angry at Nik’s mere suggestion;  that somehow she knew him THAT way.  After all, Nik hadn’t experienced those five days in Dhaka. Not in the way SHE had.  It hadn’t been Nik sharing a bed with him;  her body that his mouth and his hands roamed and expertly and effortlessly drove to the heights of a passion she’d never experienced.   She hadn’t been the one he’d been kissing;  her face cradled so delicately within the confines of rough, calloused palms.   And it hadn’t been her that he had opened up to;  openly talking about the death of his son and the horrible decision he’d made in the lead-up to his last weeks on earth.  Nik hadn’t served as his confessional;  her heart breaking as he poured out his entire heart and soul and trusted her with his deepest and darkest -and damning- secret.   

Instead, she’d stayed civil; appreciating the friendship and the help too much to let her hurt feelings and wounded pride destroy her one and only support system.  Remaining calm and quiet as she reminded Nik that the intimacy between herself and Tyler had extended far beyond the physical;  they’d confided in each other and found a shared level of trust and faith that neither had ever experienced with another. They’d made plans;  mused about visiting each other’s respective home countries and then taking some of their payouts and travelling the world.  Making no concrete plans; instead packing lightly and choosing destinations on the whim.  It would give them a chance to get to know one another;  concentrating on nothing but each other and seeing if they could make something -something good, something permanent-  out of the five-day whirlwind they’d experienced in Dhaka.

They’d been excited.  Optimistic.

And then the world opened up beneath them and swallowed them whole.

******

Every morning begins the same.  

Stirred awake by the arrival of the day shift nurse;  a young woman fresh out of college that possesses both enormous compassion and remarkable wisdom.  The only one that doesn’t look at her with a mixture of pity and irritation;  who doesn’t sigh in annoyance when she’s asked the same questions during EVERY vitals check and who always has something positive to say instead of the usual doom and gloom.   Always feeding into the hope that Esme so desperately clings to;  sharing stories of patients who’d been through worse and had ‘been under’ much longer,  but had one day come out of things and gone on to live healthy, successful lives.   

She sees how the others look at her; the way they huddle together at the nurse’s station and whisper as she passes by.   As of yet she hasn’t addressed the issue or called them out;  too lost in her own little world powered by fear,  worry,  and stress unlike anything she’s ever known.  But she has daydreamed about it;  the moment when she’ll finally have enough and stand up for herself.  How satisfying it will be to see their shocked and embarrassed expressions when she addresses them in Arabic; one of the six languages aside from English that she’d long ago mastered during her time in the Corps.  And she’ll let them know that she isn’t the weak little girl that they view her as;   that she is a grown-ass woman who isn’t delusional or crazy for clinging so desperately to any sign of hope. 

 Yes, it’s true; she and Tyler HAVEN’T known each other for long.  Only a week if their initial meeting and the twenty-four hours of mission planning were taken into consideration.  But she isn’t pathetic for fighting for the best possible care for him.  Or for holding onto the optimism that one day she WILL get more time with him.   That he’ll fight his way out of the coma and begin that long road of healing.

Sleep hasn’t been her friend since Dhaka;  plagued by bloody and brutal nightmares that replay those desperate moments on the bridge.  The events disjointed and out of place, but extremely vivid;  witnessing him taking the bullet to the neck and seeing the fear and panic immediately take over his face.  The terror in his eyes as he attempted to get get to safety;  a hand clasped tightly over the wound as blood seeped through his fingers and trickled down his arm.  Her screams as clear as the day they’d escaped from her mouth;  repeatedly calling out his name as fought her way out of Nik’s protective embrace.  

It’s so real when it happens; as if she’s transported back to the exact place and the exact time. Able to smell the mixture of spent gunpowder and spilt gasoline and the polluted water wafting up from the river.   Feel the oppressive humid and choking humidity;  the sun ferocious as it pounded down upon her,  and the cement so scorching that when she kneels upon it burns her skin through the fabric of her pants.  The weight of his much larger, stronger body as it lays upon her thighs;  a fear and desperation in his eyes as he clung desperately to the front of her t-shirt and struggled in vain to speak through the damage done to his body.

And the blood.  So much blood.   

Pouring through her fingers as she attempted to cover the wound and keep pressure on it.  Her entire body and her voice trembling as she tried her best to remain calm;  repeatedly assuring him that help was on its way while trying to succumb to the fear that no one was coming to save them.  They’d be left behind with no possible means of escape.  And Asif’s remaining men would find them; either putting bullets in their head to kill them immediately or leaving Tyler there to die while dragging her back to days, weeks, even months of sheer hell under their boss’ roof.  Trying to ward off the thoughts of the ‘worst case scenario’, she’d instead focused on doing whatever it took to keep  Tyler alive. Tears streaming down her face as she apologized for having to cause him more pain in order to help him, then proceeding to push two fingers through the bullet wound in an attempt to pinch off the flow of blood right from the source.

Asleep or not, she can still hear the strangled scream he’d given; see the way his eyes briefly fluttered and then rolled towards the back of his head as he lost consciousness.

It’s a sound…and a sight…she will never forget.

*****

She isn’t in the mood for being social.  Normally she’d cheerfully greet the nurse and then force herself out of bed;  her back and her neck aching from a night on the rickety folding cot as she made her way to Tyler’s side.  It’s a mixture of things;  the hope that she’ll be told of even the smallest improvement in his condition and a lingering fear…a paranoia…that someone will further harm him.  That news of his survival will prompt the need for revenge;  Asif sending someone under the guise of a nurse to perhaps put something…some kind of toxic…into his IV line to ‘finish the job’.

It’s absurd, of course.  And a sign that she’s truly starting to lose it.

This morning she ignores the nurse’s arrival and opts to stay in bed; completely wrapping her body in her blankets as she rolls onto her side.   Despite the sunshine that pours into the central courtyard, her mood is dark and troublesome;  she feels empty and incredibly lonely and wishes she’d simply died that day on the bridge.  It would have been so much easier;  if death had just claimed them both instead of banishing them to a  wasteland of fear and dread.   Scared every time she even goes to the bathroom or to take a shower that something terrible will happen;  her absence being the precise time that his body decides to give up the fight and move onto a far more peaceful, pain-free existence.   

She doesn’t entertain those thoughts often;  managing to hold onto that shred of hope that carries her from one day…one hour…one hour…one second…to the next.   But every so often the doom and gloom creeps in;  the times when she considers all the negativity that the doctors have been spoon-feeding her for months.   The way they’ve gently pressured her to simply move on with her life;  she hasn’t known him that long and surely his loss wouldn’t be THAT big of a tragedy.   

They insist they know what’s best for BOTH of them;  a peaceful demise for Tyler and her finding a way to forget that he ever existed.   And when she refuses to budge and reminds them that she’s calling the shots, they change their tactics;  speaking of massive brain damage and considerable loss of cognitive function IF he comes out of the coma.  Issuing warnings that he’ll likely need one-to-one care for the rest of his days; someone that can help feed him and dress him and get him in and out of the shower.  Is that really the kind of life SHE wants?

“I don’t care if I have to take care of him,” she’d angrily informed them.  “I don’t care if I have to help with ANY of that.  If I have to spend the rest of my life helping him to the bathroom, I’ll do it.  In a heartbeat.”

It’ll be days before they approach the subject again.  Allowing her time to ‘cool down’ before once more bringing it;  the badgering to turn off the machines and let ‘nature take its course’.   And they meet the same brick wall time and time again;  unable to win the battle against her stubbornness as she digs her heels in even deeper. 

Her eyes close as the nurse’s footfalls grow closer;  smelling the aroma of freshly brewed tea as a cup and placed upon the window ledge.  And she remains perfectly still as a hand is placed upon the top of her head; a fleeting yet affectionate and concerned moment before the blankets are tucked protectively around her body.   Her chest immediately tightens and tears threaten; it’s been decades since anyone -outside of romantic partners- had shown that level of care and concern.  Her own mother had been void of any kind of love and tenderness for her;  showing nothing but the utmost disdain and showing no interest in bonding with her daughter in any way, shape, or form.   

Yet here was a woman -younger than Esme herself- in possession of such tenderness and compassion; willingly accepting the role of caretaker in regards to a non-patient. 

A complete stranger.  

She wants to bury her face in her pillow and cry;  let out all of the emotions that have been weighing her down for the last five months.  A multitude of so many things;  guilt and hopelessness and emptiness beyond anything she’s ever experienced.   A stark contrast compared to what she’d felt in Dhaka;  behind closed doors when the job could be temporarily forgotten and they’d become nothing more than two broken and lonely people finding solace in each other.   It had been the first time -in what seemed like decades- that she’d ever felt that connected to someone;  able to be honest and transparent and not feel pitied or looked down upon.   Her ex-husband had destroyed her;  mentally and physically.  And she’d sworn that she’d never…ever…trust a man again;  refusing to hand over her heart only to have it ripped from her chest and thrown on the ground and stomped upon.

Tyler was different.

Even with the mountains of baggage and his extreme self-loathing, he had shown a genuine interest in not only her, but in her interests and the things she had to share.   Whether it was in that bar in Dhaka the first night -when they’d shared pitchers of beer and lost count of the number of tequila shooters they’d pounded back- or two days later;  when they’d found themselves caught in a mess of tangled sheets and sweaty, naked limbs.   Surrendering to an intense sexual attraction in the midst of the craziness and unpredictability of the job;  unabashedly using one another for not only physical pleasure, but as an escape from the profound emptiness that haunted them both. And they’d somehow segued so seemingly and effortlessly into something much more meaningful;  quickly trusting and opening up to one another and forming a unique and powerful bond within the confines of that dirty little hotel room.

 He hadn’t been the least bit ‘put off’ by her backstory or the emotions she showed while sharing it; an infinite amount of patience and understanding in both his eyes and his touch.  Making her feel ‘seen’ for the first time in her entire life;  able to truly be herself and not feel judged or ridiculed for it.  She was finally wholly and completely accepted. By a man with even higher and thicker walls built around his heart and soul.

And above all else, he’d made her feel wanted.  Needed. Beautiful. Desirable.  Looked upon as if she was the most incredible woman in the world.

How could she possibly give it…ALL OF IT…up?

****

Waiting until she hears the soft click of the door as it closes, she tosses off the blankets;  yawning noisily and rubbing at her stiff neck and shoulders as she swings her legs over the side of the cot.   She’s slept in worse places; off-the-grid caves and huts and bombed-out towns in both Afghanistan and Iraq.  With not even the tiniest bit of comfort that the pencil-thin cot mattress provides her with;  memories of using layers of broken down garbage boxes or piles of dry and withered leaves and even just the rocks and sand as a foundation to rest upon.  

But she’d been younger then; fresh out of university and full of life and energy and possessed by an unshakable lust for adventure and danger.   The intel field was her specialty;  her tiny size and ‘girl next door’ looks and ‘apple pie’ personality opening doors that were inaccessible to others.  Earning a well-respected and rock-solid reputation as she easily and effortlessly wormed and weaved her way into the tightest of circles. Surrounding herself with dangerous and shady characters that were enabled and empowered by even more deadly and vicious leaders.  

It had been those experiences and their accompanying successes -along with her tumultuous, failed marriage- that had eventually led her to Nik.  

And that little rundown shack in the Australian outback. 

Shoving her feet into a pair of nearby Crocs,  she gathers her messy, dark tresses in both hands;  fashioning them into a ponytail that she secures with an elastic she keeps around her left wrist.  And taking a single sip of tea, she returns the cup to the window ledge before approaching the bed;  snagging that chart that hangs from a hook on the footboard and quickly scanning through the notes that the nurse had left behind.   She’s not sure what she’s actually looking for;  perhaps the smallest bit of information that signals some kind of change in his condition.   It’s that hope again;  the little shred she clings to when she’s at her lowest.   Not a praying person by any stretch of the imagination, but always begging to some higher power to give her a sign…no matter how minuscule…that things are on the upswing.

Today is NOT the day.

Returning the chart to its resting place, she moves to the side of the bed and lowers the safety railing; frowning when she notices the awkward placement of the pillows meant to keep his upper body well supported.

“I’m just going to fix something real quick,” she says aloud, then carefully slips an arm between him and the bed; the back of his head cradled in her palm as her free hand fluffs and realigns the pillows.  “I don’t do this? You’re going to have a hell of a stiff neck when you get up.”

It usually gives her a sense of normalcy; talking to him as if he’s going to respond.  Helping to keep her sane; imagining his accent, what he’d say in return, and what his facial expressions would look like.   In some ways, those five days in Dhaka had felt like a lifetime; feeling closer and more connected to him than people she had known for decades. Even for her entire existence.  Able to read him so easily during both the quiet and more intimate times;  every emotion and feeling laid bare on his face and especially in his eyes.   But today she almost feels foolish;  the pit in both her heart and stomach open and raw and allowing the negativity of all of the naysayers to ooze and fester.

Attempting to keep the darkness away, she places a knee on the mattress; allowing her to get closer to him as she navigates her way around all of the tubes and the wires connected to his body.   A hand resting on his chest as she presses a series of kisses to warm, smooth skin;  the middle of his brow, the bridge of his nose,  the corner of his mouth.  Her eyes briefly closing as she rests her forehead against his temple and breathes in his scent;  saddened that the familiarity of sandalwood, cedar, and slight citrus have long been replaced by the sickly, almost sweet smell of hospital.  

Antiseptic. Illness.  And lingering death.

The latter she refuses to consider. And she forces away the tears as she pulls back to look at him;  her fingers moving slowly and adoringly through his hair.  It’s so much fuller now; a testament to just how long it’s been since they escaped death on the bridge.  The longer top strands continuously falling across his forehead and into his eyes;  the shorter ones now tumbling down and curling over his ears and skimming the nape of his neck.   

It’s so hard to see him like this.  The change more apparent with every passing day.   His skin gray and sickly;  replacing that slight tan that had once given him colour.  Dark circles taking up residence under both eyes and his lips painfully dry; his cheeks becoming hollow under the thicker, darker beard.  And the loss of weight and muscle tone clearly visible;  the hospital gown slipping off sharp, pointier shoulders and hanging loosely over a once broad chest and chiselled stomach.   

But he’s still Tyler. The man that she’d been quickly and unabashedly drawn to the moment she’d met him.  Nothing could EVER replace that person;   those brilliant blue eyes that attempt to mask the pain of his past and the lingering humanity he possessed,  that tightly drawn mouth that betrayed his sadness but -when she lightly teased him and flirted with him in the hotel bar- had transformed into a slow, almost boyish smile. Who tilted his head to the side while listening to her drunken rambles;  shy and withdrawn at first, but the liquid courage consumed through the evening bringing out a more talkative and charming side.   Surprisingly well-read and intelligent;  a man that had seen, done, and experienced the worst yet hadn’t let it completely tarnish his spirit. Not as empty and hollow and dead inside as he believed;  his laugh and the way he teased her and the moments when his fingertips intentionally brushed against hers paying testament to a man who was still very much alive.   

Who could still FEEL.

“Good morning,” she greets, and places another kiss at the corner of his mouth, smiling as she lightly and affectionately tousles his hair.  “First thing we’re going to do when you get out of here? Cut this mop of yours.  I mean, it’s not THAT bad; it’s starting to grow on me and I guess it is kinda cute.  But I DO have my preferences.”

She carefully lowers herself into a sit; folding her legs in her lap before taking one of his hands in both of hers.  Tightly squeeze before using her thumbs to lightly massage his fingers;  paying extra attention to each misshapen knuckle before moving down to his wrist.  Last week he’d shown a small response to the ministrations;  his fingers giving a slight twitch and his heart rate climbing several beats.   It had given her a newfound sense of optimism;  further fuelling the hope that he was fighting his back.  Until the neurologist told her it was likely involuntarily; a common and unexpected hike in the numbers and nothing more than random nerve  ‘flinches’.

She waits for it now; eyes on the monitor, anxiously chewing on the inside of her cheek.   

Nothing.

“I don’t care what they say,” she informs him, and turns his hand over;  setting it on her thigh with the palm facing upwards. “I know you meant to do it. It wasn’t just something random.  It was totally intentional.  I know it. I know YOU.”

For several minutes she sits in silence. Listening to the beeps and the hums of the various machines as her fingertips glide over his palm; alternating between repeatedly tracing slow, methodical circles and gently picking at the calluses at the bottom of his thumb and each finger. Such big, beautiful hands; able to inflict both immense pain and mind and body-numbing pleasure.   Capable of not only taking a life in the most bloody and gruesome ways, but also possessing a tenderness unlike anything she’s ever experienced.   Moments when he smoothes hair away from her face and loops wayward strands behind her ears.  Or he cradles her face in his hands as he kisses her;  her mind and her pulse racing from the juxtaposition of rough, battered skin and smooth, soft lips.

She’s looking at the monitor when she both feels and hears it;  the slight bump of his leg against the side of her thigh and the quiet rustle of the skin against sheets.   For a brief moment her heart stops and she forgets to brief;  eyes snapping away from the numbers displayed on the screen to his face.  Hoping and praying for something more;  the flutter of eyelashes or the twitch of his lips or even the slightest murmur or mumble from around the tube held securely in his mouth.

“Do that again,” she implores, and tightly squeezes his hand in both her own.  “I know I wasn’t imagining it.  And I know it wasn’t what the doctor said; something random and involuntary. You MEANT to do it. I know you did. So do it again. Please?”

She returns to massaging his hand;  focusing once more on fingers and wrist as a form of encouragement.   Alternating behind studying his face for any subtle change and glancing back at his left leg;  silently begging and pleading for it to move once.

“Tyler…” Sighing, she tightens her grip on his hand; tears burning her eyes, unable to keep the desperation out of her voice.   “...you need to give me something here.   I’m not expecting much; I don’t expect you to open your eyes or squeeze my hand or anything big like that.  But I need SOMETHING. ANYTHING.  That lets me know you’re in there.  That you’re not going anywhere.  That you’re fighting your way back.”

She wants to break down but refuses to give in to the darkness;  adamant to not surrender to her own issues and weaknesses.   That’s the last thing he needs;  sensing and hearing the pain and the desperation in her voice.   Right now he needs her to be the strong one;  the steadfast rock that he can depend on.

“I’m worried,” she admits.  “They’re really getting on my ass now.  About taking you off the machine.  I can only fight and argue so much before they bring out the big guns.  They’ve already threatened it; taking me to court and getting an order to halt all your care.  I can’t let that happen.  I can’t let them just give up on you. I WON’T let them.   But I need your help.  I need you to show them that this isn’t a lost cause.  That I’m not just fighting a losing battle.  So if you could just do SOMETHING…just something really small…to show them that you’re still here.   I know you don’t want to die.   A man that wants to die doesn’t talk about the things we talked about.  They don’t make the plans we did.   So please…”  She’s unable to contain the tears that slip down her cheeks.  “...Tyler…help me.   I need your help. I need YOU.”

She waits for several minutes and then issues a heavy, dejected sigh.  The optimism quickly fading as he remains motionless;  stuck somewhere between the living and dead,  frantically searching for the correct exit.  And she uses the back of her hand to swipe at the tears that glisten upon her cheeks; silently scolding herself for a moment of weakness during a time that calls for courage and strength.  

“I’m going to let you rest,” she says, and slips off the bed.  “I’m going to go and have my tea and do my yoga and then take a shower.  Once that’s done, I’ll be all yours. But for now…” Her voice trails off as she feels the movement against her hand; the light and feathery brush of a finger along the side of her wrist.   And it feels as if she can’t breathe as she glances over her shoulder and down at the mattress; choking back a sob -one of immense relief- at the sight of his hand partially covering hers.   

The hope returns.  

“I knew it.”  Placing a hand on the top of his head, she tunnels her fingers tunnelling in his hair as leans over him. Her eyes closing as she presses a kiss above his left eyebrow and then nuzzles his temple with the tip of her nose. “I KNEW IT.”

*****

She’s asleep when Nik arrives in the late afternoon; awkwardly slumped forward in the bedside chair with both her hands clutching one of Tyler’s and her head resting on his forearm.  And she’s stirred awake by a hand passing gently over the top of her head;  sliding down her hair and settling in the middle of her back.   The fatigue is crippling; emotional and physical exhaustion unlike anything she’s ever experienced before.   But the moment that morning has kept her spirits uplifted, and she glances up at Nik and gives her a sleepy smile in greeting.

“You’re going to end up in traction falling asleep like that,” Nik teases.

“Guess I dozed off.  I meant to just rest my eyes, but…”

“You need to sleep. Properly.  You can’t tell me you’re getting enough rest on that thing,” she nods in the direction of the cot.  “Let me get you somewhere to stay.  A hotel. An air BNB.  Somewhere close by.  I know you won’t come as far as my place;  even a half-hour flight is way too long. Just let me…”

She’s made the offer several times over the past five months;  gently suggesting one of the finer hotels or even a short-term apartment rental.   Willing to pick up the tab;  the weapons dealing gig and the mercenary business leaving her with a healthy share of disposable income.  Despite a fairly lavish lifestyle. 

Yawning, Esme smoothes wayward strands of hair from the side of her face. “I’m fine here. I don’t want to leave.  I CAN’T leave.”

“He’d want you to take care of yourself.  You can’t pour from an empty cup.”

“My cup is nowhere near empty.”

Nik arches an eyebrow and stares down at her pointedly.

“It’s not,” she insists. “I know my own cup.  I know how much it can take.  I’m fine.”

Nik relents. The heels of her simple black pumps click noisily against the polished tile as she heads for the small sitting area; setting her purse and a small duffle bag on the sofa before shrugging out of her trench coat and draping it over the back of one of the armchairs.   

“I thought you wouldn’t be back in until sometime next week,” Esme says, as her friend joins her at Tyler’s bedside; pulling over an extra chair and sitting down across from her.  “Didn’t you have business in Brunei?”

“I got home last night; I was able to wrap things up quicker than I anticipated.  I thought I would come by. Check on things.”

“Things have been good.  Well, as good as they can be, I guess.”     

Her entire body stiffens as she watches Nik engage with him;  the way she smooths his hair away from his eyes and continuously brushes her thumb across his forehead.  She tries to tell herself that she’s reading too much into it;  the softness of Nik’s face and the tears shimmering in her eyes and tenderness in the way she touches him. She knows of their past;  a strictly physical ‘arrangement’ that had gone smoothly until Nik developed feelings and suddenly wanted more than he was willing to give.   His brutal honesty had caused friction in both their friendship and their work life;  Nik understandably hurt when he’d informed her that he didn’t feel the same way. And never would.   If she wanted something like THAT,  she’d have to find it somewhere else.

She wonders now if there’s some kind of residual anger on Nik’s behalf.  Maybe even some jealousy.   It would be a bitter pill to swallow;  the man that you wanted not feeling the same way in return.  Who’d told you that he’d never be ready to commit to ANYONE that way.  Only to do a complete three-sixty less than a year later.  

“Any change?”  Nik addresses her,  a hand now resting on top of one of Tyler’s.  

“No.”   The lie rolls easily off of her tongue;  not in a hurry to share what had taken place earlier.   She needs more proof;  more instances of voluntary and meaningful movement and interaction before she confides in Nik or even thinks of taking the information to the nurses.   She’s been ignored and ridiculed before;  excited about progress he seemed to be making only to be told it was ‘all in her head’.   

Nik smiles.  It’s meant to be comforting. Reassuring. But it’s laced with pity.  “Maybe soon.”

*****

They sit together in the seating area on the opposite side of Tyler’s room while a personal support worker tends to trimming his nails and beard. And she has to struggle to hold back the urge to tell the woman to leave;  much preferring to do even those tasks herself.  It makes her feel useful; helping with even the most basic of needs.   As if she finally has some kind of purpose in life;  someone that she can nurture and care for and feel as if she’s achieving something meaningful.

 Something GOOD.

Perhaps in a way, it’s a form of seeking absolution.   A chance to prove that she’s deserving of forgiveness for all the wrongs she’d committed in the course of the last few years.   She’s done some questionable things in the name of the job;  the lying and the conning and the forming relationships and bonds with people only to lead them to punishment and certain death.   The mercenary word is a double-edged sword;  a life spent hunting down the most atrocious of people only to find yourself resorting to the most atrocious of behaviour to bring them to justice.   And not a justice that involves due process or human rights or judge and jury.  But one that included horrendous violence and bloodshed.

And an enormous payout.

Nik has brought food from home;  Khoresht-e fesenjan, Persian rice and Sangak bread. Admitting -somewhat sheepishly as she loaded up two plates with the various offerings- that Yaz had prepared it. His interests extending far past soccer, TikTok, and pricey designer clothes.  And they engage in small talk as they eat, Esme listening as  Nik shares the details of her recent business trip to Brunei.  Taking on an extremely high profile client in the weapons dealing department;  someone needing to protect themselves and their family -via an army of heavily equipped bodyguards. And for a brief moment, she considers the surreality of the conversation,  wondering when -and how- her life had gone off the beaten path and found its way HERE.   In this business.  Her closest friends…HER FAMILY…gun runners and mercenaries.

“I’ve been doing a little searching,” Nik announces, as pushes her empty dishes and containers of food aside;  laying sheets of paper on the top of the coffee table.  Images that she’s printed off the internet;  different angles taken of a small cabin -situated mere feet from an icy lake- surrounded by towering pine trees and snow-covered mountains.  “And l found a little place. It’s perfect.”

“I didn’t realize you were looking to add to your collection of houses,”  Esme chides.  “Doesn’t really seem your style.  Unless maybe it’s for the job.  A place to hide people away.  A safe house.”

“It’s in Austria. Gmunden.  On the outskirts of town.  Remote.  Peaceful. And it’s not for me. Or the job.”

“Nik…”

‘I know you think I’m overstepping. And maybe I am.  But I care about you.  And I’m worried about you.”

Leaning forward, Esme scoops up a handful of pictures.  The cabin and its surroundings remind her of home. Or what USED to be her home.  Raised in a small town in Colorado situated at the foot of the Rocky Mountains.  She hasn’t been there in years; estranged from an abusive mother and five older brothers.   And she hasn’t had the desire to return;  enjoying life in that small little apartment in Prague;  settling down in the Czech Republic after troubles with The High Table had caused her to flee New York City.

She sighs as she tosses the photos onto the coffee table. “I can’t afford this.”

“You don’t have to. It’s a gift.  From Yaz and I.  Somewhere YOU can recuperate.   Mentally.”

“I’m fine.   I don’t need a place to hide away.  It’s beautiful and I’m sure I’d love it there.  And I appreciate the offer.  I appreciate EVERYTHING you’ve been doing for me. For US.  But…”

“You don’t leave the ward.   You barely leave this room.  You haven’t seen the sun in nearly five months.”

“I see it every day.” She gestures to the wall of windows that give a view of the central courtyard.   “Unless it’s raining, of course.”

“You haven’t felt it on your skin.  You haven’t breathed in fresh air.  You haven’t seen or spoken to anyone NOT connected to all of this.”

“I’ll get a chance to do all of that when this is all over.  When it’s all behind us.  Once he’s better and he’s out here and we never have to see this place ever again.  Once that happens…”

“And if he doesn’t?” Nik gently challenges. “Get better? Get out of here? What then?”

“He WILL.   He’s going to open his eyes and he’s going to get off that machine and he’s going to breathe on his own and…”

“You don’t know that.”

“And you don’t know that he won’t.  Why are you giving up on him? Why is everyone in such a hurry? Why does everyone just want to wash their hands of him and count him out? Why…?”

“No one wants to do any of that. But some of us…as much as it hurts…are being realistic.  We are being truthful.  You’re hanging on to this very thin thread and it is getting thinner every day.  We care about YOU.  We’re worried about YOU.  This isn’t healthy.   This vigil you’re holding.  Having hope is one thing, but THIS?”

“He’ll be fine,” Esme remains steadfast.  “He’ll come out of that coma and he’ll be alright.  It’ll take some time, but he’ll do it.  He’ll be Tyler again.  Why won’t anyone believe me?”

“Look at him!  Do you really think this is fair? Leaving him like this? Do you really WANT him to be like this?”

“It’s not permanent. He’s not always going to be this way.   This is just temporary. He’s going to be fine.  He’ll get back on his feet and…”

“He has a machine breathing for him!  Keeping him alive.  I know you think you’re doing what’s best for him…”

“I AM.  I AM doing what’s best for him.   I’m the only one that is.  I’m the only person not giving up on him.  The rest of you are so caught up in just pulling the plug that…”

“Esme, I care about you.   You’re my friend.   You’re the closest thing that Yaz and I have to other family. And I am not saying these things to hurt you.   I’m saying them to get you to open your eyes to what’s really going on.  This isn’t living. He’s not doing this on his own.  Machines are doing it for him. How long are you willing to leave him like this?  A couple more weeks? Months? Years?”

“Just until there’s a sign.  Until something happens where he shows that he’s going to be okay. I just want everyone to give him a chance.  To prove you all wrong.”

“It’s been five months.  Since you got here.  And there’s been no sign. Not even the slightest. Not a twitch of his eyes or his fingers or…”

“His MRI last week showed brain activity,” Esme reminds her friend.   “THAT’S something.”

“Then take him off the machine and…”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“He needs more time.  Just a bit.  To get a little stronger.”

“You won’t do it because you’re afraid of what’s going to happen.  Keeping him on it ensures he stays alive.  There’s no guarantee that he’ll breathe on his own once he’s off it, and that’s what scares you; the fact he might die.  As long as you keep him hooked up to that vent, he stays alive and you don’t have to face the worst-case scenario.”

“He just needs a little while longer.  Once he’s a bit stronger, I’ll do it.  I’ll tell them to take him off.  I will.  I promise.”

“You said that two months ago.  You made that same promise.”

“And he’s improved.  Even the doctors have said so.  That there’s some sign; that things are functioning okay and there’s some healing going on and…”

“But there’s not enough.  He’s nowhere where he should be IF things are working properly.   How long are you willing to prolong this? To leave him this way?  Another month? Two? Half a year? A year?”

“I don’t know.  As long as it takes, I guess.”

“Esme….”  Standing, Nik pushes the coffee table aside and then kneels in front of her friend.   “....look at me.”

She vigorously shakes her head in refusal.

 “Look at me,” Nik sternly repeats, and takes her face in her hands; the light pressure of her fingernails in the other woman’s cheeks enough to force eye contact. “I am NOT saying these things to hurt you. I’m trying to get you to see what you are doing to him.  And yourself.”

“I’m doing what he’d want.”

“You don’t know that.  You haven’t known him long enough.  To know what he’d want in a situation like this.”

“I know what happened. In Dhaka.  In that hotel room.  You weren’t there. I WAS.   I know the things we talked about; the plans that we made.  And he’d want to go through with those. So I’m giving him a chance. To get better. So he can have those things.”

“So he can have them or YOU can have them?”

“What’s wrong with wanting them?  With wanting time with him? It’s what we talked about; travelling the world, spending time together, getting to know one another. What’s wrong with wanting that?”

“You’re wanting them at his expense.”

“That’s not true.  I just want everyone to give him a chance.  That’s all I’m asking for.  Why can’t you give him that? A chance? He deserves that.  He paid his dues, Nik. He’s made his amends.  Now give him a goddamn chance. Please.”

“I have been.  For months.”

“If it’s the cost you’re worried about, I can find more money. You don’t have to pay for EVERYTHING.  I can get it somewhere.  I know Tyler has some; at his place in The Kimberley. I don’t know where it’s kept or how much there is exactly,  but I know it’s there somewhere. He told me about it. Keeping a million stashed away. You know, for a ‘rainy day’. All you’d have to do is look for it. It’s not like it’s a big place and if it’s not enough, then…”

“I don’t care about money. I don’t want any from you. Or him.   I said I would take care of things and I am.  No matter how much it ends up costing That’s not what this is about. This is about YOU.   And the decisions you’re making.  I know you want to believe they’re what’s best for Tyler…”

“They ARE what’s best for him. I am doing what he would want.”

“You don’t know that. Not really.   And I think if you were to be totally honest with yourself, you’d admit you’re really doing what’s best for you.”

“That’s not fair, Nik.  I know you think I’m being selfish and that I’m…”

“I don’t think that. And I’ve never said it, either.  I think YOU think it; when you really stop and you get a chance to realize what exactly is happening.   I think you feel that way about yourself. Do you feel that way? Selfish?”

“Sometimes.”

“And then it makes you feel guilty; when you realize you’re doing it more for yourself than you are for him.   You’re trying to hold off the inevitable. But for how long? How long can YOU live like this?  Staying in this room? Putting your life…a REAL life…on the back burner?  How long?”

“As long as I have to.”

“You think Tyler would want that? For you?  This kind of life?  Do you think he’d want you to spend years like this? That would make HIM selfish. And we both know that he’s not a selfish person. He’s selfless if anything.  And he would not want this for you.”

Esme glances towards the bed;  the PSW having long departed, leaving him in that lonely, terrifying void between life and death.   It’s heartbreak unlike anything she’s ever known;   watching someone waste away and become nothing more than a shell of themselves.  He deserves so much better;  his willingness to sacrifice his own life in order to save her and Ovi had earned him a second chance.  An absolution.  And despite his inability to interact with her, these last five months have brought them closer together than any amount of travelling could have ever possibly achieved.   

******

“You love him.”  It’s a statement. Not a question.

She chews on her bottom lip; shaking her head as she looks back at her friend.  “I don’t know.”

“I think you do know.  But for some reason, you don’t want to admit it. Especially to yourself.”

“There’s no way you can feel it this soon. Love.  It takes longer than this. WAY longer.”

“It takes as long as it takes.  Whether it’s a quick process or a long, drawn-out one.”

“But we’ve only known each other for a week.  It’s not like you can count any of the time after Dhaka;  he hasn’t actually been able to put anything into it, you know?  It’s all been pretty one-sided; the time we’ve spent together here,  the conversation, the bonding.  It’s not like he’s been able to take part.  Through no fault of his own.”

“I would say that under normal circumstances, perhaps a week IS too soon.  But these are hardly normal circumstances.   Look at everything you’ve done for him;  everything you’ve given up.   Do you really think just anyone would do this for someone? A person they barely know?  Abandon their entire life…their entire being nearly…to stick by their side? Through all of this?”

“I don’t want him to be alone. Regardless of the outcome.  He deserves so much better than that.  I know he’s made some mistakes.  But he doesn’t deserve to pay for them for the rest of his life. Or WITH his life? I wasn’t going to leave him here, Nik.  I was going to let him go through this by himself. And I especially wasn’t going to let him die alone.”

“Because you love him.”

“I don’t know.  I don’t know if I’m just grasping at straws or if I’m just imagining that we had something really good…really special…in Dhaka. Maybe I’m reading too much into it; the things that happened between us, the things we talked about. Maybe…”

“You’re not.  You were there.  You know what was said.  What happened. In that hotel room.  And you know what your heart is telling you.  You just have to believe it.  TRUST it.”

Heaving a shaky sigh, she blinks back a flood of threatening tears.  “It scares me.  Feeling this way.”

“Why? Because it is so soon?”

“The last person I trusted?  The last person I gave my heart to? They broke me, Nik.  Physically. Mentally.”

“Tyler isn’t Mark,” Nik reminds her.  “He’s not even close to being him.”

“I told myself that I’d never get this close to anyone ever again.  That I’d learned my lesson.  That it was just better if I stayed by myself. Didn’t get attached.  You don’t get hurt that way, you know?  I’ve gotten used to fighting my own battles. Protecting myself.  And then I met him and everything changed.  I changed.”

“You love him.”

Nodding, a hand swipes at the tears that manage to escape.  “I love him.”

“You should tell him.”

“I don’t even know if he can hear me.  I want to believe he can; that all those little times he’s reacted to my voice weren’t just something random.  Some muscle twitch or nerve reaction.  I want to believe that they’ve been intentional; that he’s listening to me and he understands what I’m saying. That he’s fighting his way back. To ME.”

“Do you really want to take a chance? Not saying what you need to say?  What if he CAN hear you?  And understand what you’re saying.  Do you really want to hold back? Because what if something happens and you never get the chance to say those things to him?”

Esme gives a dry laugh. “I mean, I guess it’s kind of better this way, right? Saying them while he’s like this?  Can’t get rejected when the person you’re pouring your heart out to is in a coma.”

“That wouldn’t happen.  He wouldn’t reject you.  Unconscious or not.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I DO know that.  I also know you’ll regret it; if he doesn’t make it and you never told him. Don’t do that to yourself.  Don’t let yourself live with that kind of regret. It’s a horrible existence, believe me.”

“I just don’t want it to blow up in my face.  When he wakes up.  I don’t want him turning around and saying, ‘I’m flattered. But thanks and no thanks.”

“I know Tyler.  More than he even realizes.  And trust me when I say that is NEVER going to happen.”

“So just spit out?  Hope for the best? Hope he can actually hear me?”

“Isn’t that what we’ve been doing for the last five months?  Hoping for the best?”

Esme nods; sniffling noisily as she uses the front of her t-shirt to clear excess tears from her face.

“I know you’re scared,”  Nik sympathizes. “For a lot of different reasons.   But trust me when I say that there’s no reason to add THIS to your list.”

“I’d do it again.   In a heartbeat.  Stay behind on that bridge.  Stay here.  I’d do it time and time again. No questions asked.  You know that, right?  That I’d do it a million times over?”

Smiling, Nik reaches out to loop wayward strands of hair behind her friend’s ears.  “I know.”

#Tyler and Esme series #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction fan fiction #Tyler Rake fanfic #Extraction fanfic #Tyler Rake x OFC #Chris Hemsworth #Extraction #Extraction 2 #Nik Khan #Esme Drummond #Esme Drummond-Rake

[theghostofashton]

semi-complete saturday

thank you for the tag @sanjuwrites and thank you to @heartstringsduet for coming up with this!

rules: share one scene or art that never made it into a/the finished piece and probably never will. (and if you want, share what it was supposed to be and why you left it out or never finished it) i actually have an doc of outtakes from you saw the truth in me. there were a few scenes i rewrote because i just wasn't happy with them (i have this thing about never deleting anything in case i may want to use it later lol) this is a scene that almost made it into the fic but was ultimately cut because i never felt like i got the tone of tk's instagram post quite right.

On his next day off, Carlos decides to pack up his stuff and spend the morning in a coffee shop. He gathers his laptop and headphones and slips them into his bag, and then heads to the nearest one, only a couple blocks away from his apartment. 

He orders his latte and finds a table at the back, then opens his computer and pulls up the Excel spreadsheet he’s been using to track client progress. He started this system a couple years ago, after pen and paper had gotten to be too cumbersome. He kept ending up with filled notebooks and running out of places to store them, and every time he needed to reference an old one, he’d tear his entire place up looking for it. The switch to digital was annoying, but necessary. 

Eventually, he’d taken an afternoon to sit and separate all his data into different sheets and put in a color-coding method he still uses, to this day, to track everything. 

Carlos pulls up TK’s and looks over what he’s programmed for him. He doesn’t want to change anything yet. TK is still struggling with push-ups. He’s been doing them slightly elevated for the past couple of weeks, and that’s working, but he’s not quite ready to do them the way they’re traditionally done on the floor. Carlos wants to give him another week with the modification before they start that. 

They need to get into the water at some point, but that’s less important than dry land training, ironically enough. TK doesn’t need to actually swim at the level of an Olympian, he just needs to look the part. The exercises they’re doing in the weight room are much more important in getting him there. 

He's been doing really well, so far. It’s actually pretty impressive how fast he’s picked up things. He’s still barely saying two words to Carlos during sessions, but he does everything asked without an issue. It’s a little scary how obedient he is. Carlos has never had a client like that. 

He closes Excel and pulls up Google. He did this a while back, right after he signed the contract, but since the casting announcement has officially gone out, there’s sure to be more. He types in TK’s name and waits for the search to load. 

TK Strand makes a shocking return to acting 

TK Strand, comeback or cash grab?  

The truth about TK Strand’s hasty comeback 

And there are hundreds more like it, from big and small publications alike. TMZ has some not so nice words for TK, but they’re TMZ, and Carlos didn’t expect much else. Some of the other websites, though, have him fuming a little. He clicks on the articles and skims them, and they’re exactly what he figured they would be: a ton of speculation, very little detail, and multiple paragraphs about the series of incidents that ended TK’s career in the first place. 

Carlos has read all of this before, but it stings a little, having now met him. The talk of his addiction and his intoxication on set, how there was a period of a few months where he was constantly drunk, high, or both, his violent outbursts at random seedy bars, and a failed engagement that TK’s ex seems far too delighted to keep speaking on. None of it paints TK in a good light.

But none of it allows him to defend himself, either. There’s no room for his side of the story. 

One of the articles features a photo of the statement TK put out after the events. Carlos scrolls down to it. 

Hi everyone,

There’s been a lot said about me online recently, and I wanted to take a moment to explain. Over the past few months, I have been struggling severely with my mental health. In the interest of transparency, I would like to share with everyone that I am currently pursuing treatment for substance abuse, and am beginning the long journey toward recovery. I ask for privacy during this time, as I work with my team to develop a treatment plan that will suit my needs.  

I am very sorry for any pain my actions have caused.  

-TK Strand 

The statement was posted to all of his social media accounts. TK’s tweeted a couple of times since then, but there hasn’t been another post on his Instagram or Facebook. Both of his profiles feel like graveyards, homages to the person he used to be. The pictures of him smiling with interview hosts and squished into group shots stop after a while, until it only becomes photos at nightclubs. There’s a picture of what Carlos assumes is TK as a little kid, held by a woman with curly brown hair and a wide smile. 

He clicks on that one, and freezes. The threat of tears is a shock, but his eyes well up immediately.  

I’ll miss you forever.

That’s the last post before his statement, dated about six months before.  

It’s a little dizzying, seeing it laid out like this. He thinks back to what Mateo was saying at dinner the other day, TK’s mom dying and his boyfriend’s infidelity happening in quick succession, how that was what set things off. Six months later, a statement about struggling with substance abuse.

Something twists in Carlos’s chest. He reaches forward to shut the lid of his laptop, suddenly feeling a little sick.

tagging @paperstorm @strandnreyes @reyesstrand @bonheur-cafe @lightningboltreader @carlos-in-glasses and leaving an open tag for anyone else who wants to share!

#semi-complete saturday #911 lone star #neha writes #my fic

[dreamylyfe-x]

I don't know where else to go to complain about fanfic comments, so I guess I'm going to do it here. Because I woke up to one today that annoyed me.

And ironically, I'm doing it on the second day of my summer vacation, which I had set aside anyway as a "day to attend to the fandom things that I need to attend to" -- of which there are several.

The first thing I need to say is that I'm desperately grateful for every single comment I receive on anything I've written -- fanfic or meta -- 99.5% of the time. This is just a vanishingly small sample of what I hear about stuff I've written.

But it's still so irritating.

Some background -- I wrote fanfic, a prodigious amount of it, in my very early 20s. For about three years I posted nearly daily. These were long WIPs and they got a fair amount of attention in that fandom, which means I also got some criticism. And I engaged the criticism fairly cheerfully. It's hard to be too insulted by someone who has still read hundreds of pages of your work, even if they are upset about something. It was also really normal, at the time, to tell a fic writer then their story was annoying you. And even an upset comment was better than no comments -- the absolute WORST thing you can experience -- so I was pretty ok with them.

But anyway -- life happened, I left that fandom and I stopped writing fic.

A good friend of mine still was and one day, in a fandom I never participated in but certainly knew a fair bit about, she had a bad experience. Her fic was nominated for a ship-centric fandom award (this is livejournal era) and some random group of fans took umbrage at the existence of these fandom awards and went through and gave snarky reviews of all the fics that had been nominated. Anonymously. My friend had not wanted this review and let it be known that she didn't like it. That violated some sort of fandom rule at the time and she got dragged for it. Authors were not supposed to object to criticism. Even if it was mean-spirited.

More years pass. It takes a good long while for a piece of media to grab me enough that I get sucked into a fandom again. But when it happens we are long into the Tumblr era. And I discover that the worm has turned and it is no longer considered good fandom behaviour to leave negative or critical comments.

As a fandom old, I find that I little curious. I don't leave negative comments personally, but it's such a shift from the livejournal era that I take note. And I'm not sure I feel all that negatively about receiving critical comments on fic. As I'm writing it for the first time in a decade, I get to test that out -- and I don't actually have a lot of opportunity to do that, because indeed, people tend not to leave negative comments. But ONE TIME, on ONE story, ONE person left perhaps the longest and most detailed comment I have ever received, all about how much she absolutely HATED the story I was telling. And I did, honestly, love that comment. Same principle as before -- I couldn't be mad when they were so passionate about it. It was flattering.

But today I was reminded of the type of comment I really don't enjoy. It is not that it's negative -- though it is. It's that it's withering. It's the type of comment designed to make you feel like this person thinks you're a vending machine that they put a dollar into and then got the wrong product. It's the "I hope you don't think that this thing you put into your fic is actually, you know, The CORRECT way to look at this."

I've only gotten a couple of these because in general I think fandom is nicer these days and certainly the corner of the Gallavich fandom that I occupy is filled with really smart, thoughtful, funny and interesting people who tend to SAY smart, thoughtful, funny and interesting things. And this is something of a void scream, because I don't think people who leave comments like that would ever bother to read this.

But. Like. Just in case.

Fic writers put thoughts and opinions into characters' mouths that are not their personal take all the time. Because they have reason to believe these pre-existing characters think that thing. You can disagree with it. But it's probably bad practice to assume anything about the fic writer because of it.

If you ARE going to leave a comment like that try to say at least one other thing about the story so that your comment isn't entirely just you being unaware of the concept of an unreliable narrator.

If you are STILL going to leave your eye-roll in comment form on someone's story and not even bother to hit the kudos button on the way out, then I will probably respond to you like you're an asshole. I just have no other context to draw from.

If you are still determined to do all these things, could you try not to do it in the middle for the night so that I don't wake up to this stuff in my inbox?

Anyway. I know I'm blessed to even get snarky comments on a two-year-old fanfic, but, you know. I have feelings to share. Happy August.

#no one asked #fanfic writing #my fic

[nixytea]

to die by your hand — l.hs (teaser)

[ 𓍝 ] — “do me a favour and off me before anyone else does.”

➻ 𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 » romance, rivals to lovers, denial, mutual pining, major angst

➻ 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔰 » enhypen’s heeseung and sunoo, ive’s wonyoung and yujin, twice’s tzuyu, aespa’s ningning and karina, kep1er’s chaehyun and bahiyyih, jo yuri

➻ 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 » a lot of blood and gore, murder, assassination, beheading, death, fighting, heavy angst, major character death, historical inaccuracy

➻ 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 (open!) @hsg-ashsk

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 » as the most prolific assassin in all of riverfield, you are both revered and feared by the people of the land for daring to challenge the imperial family. however, your identity as a masked vigilante is put to the test when you hear of the ruthless crown prince’s selection for his new wife. making use of this opportunity to infiltrate the palace, you enter the crown prince’s harem. what you weren’t expecting, however, was to meet your rival, whom you have mixed feelings about, within the cage you so willingly walked into.

sometimes, you liked to imagine blood as crimson rose petals, delicate and elegant. after all, rose petals looked better on hands than blood did. and if blood were really from a blossoming flower, your hands would certainly be filled with nothing but bundles and bundles of fresh roses.

these were the thoughts that passed through your mind as the stench of iron and spilled organs began to permeate the air, thick hot liquid streaming down your arms and face. you didn’t have to look down to know it was blood that had stained your leather robes, and you were sure that not a drop of your blood that had been spilled tonight. a man crouched before you, pathetic whimpers ever so fitting for the scene you’d painted minutes prior.

holding the tip of your blade at his throat, you spoke, knowing the mask across your eyes prevented him from ever recognising your face. but for good measure, you pitched your voice down. not the best attempt, but it wouldn’t really matter anyway. “talk. where are the children you abducted?”

when your question was met with silence, you dug the blade an inch deeper, the man’s desperate whines growing louder. “i-i can make a deal with you. if i-”

your bewildered scoff cut him off, hand reaching out to seize him by the collar. “are you a fool, to think you are in any position to bargain right now? might i remind you, your entire guard has fallen to me alone. you are at my mercy alone, are we clear? answer the question, before i lose my patience and slit your throat.”

your prey was always so predictable, one threat and it was all over. they valued their lives so much they were willing to cower like dimwits and betray their comrades. disgusting, but if they weren’t so cowardly your information would be harder to obtain.

such was the man before you, his previously haughty gaze reduced to nothing more than a grovelling traitor’s guttural pleas. if not for his fine, albeit blood-drenched clothing, no one would be able to see any semblance of the count. one murderous glance was all it took for the evidence you needed to spill from his throat in garbled words, each inhuman act more detailed than the last. within a minute he’d confessed to his entire trafficking business and more, although you’d already known that. you just needed to hear it from his mouth and gather solid evidence from his mansion.

“filthy pig, to gorge yourself on the suffering of children. want to know how i found out about your little side business?” you taunted him, dragging the edge of your sword across his jugular vein to purposefully elicit a despairing whimper from his throat. “i checked the records of the knights’ station in this area. hundreds of reports on your dirty deeds, all set to be burnt while piles of money rot in a secret compartment of the captain’s drawer. knights don’t earn that much, my dear count. care to enlighten me on the matters of your estate?”

he eyed the gleaming blade, the panic apparent on his face. “bribery. i-i bribed them. please, spare my life.”

“shut up, you scumbag. you don’t get to beg for your life. where’d you get the idea to start the system? i doubt you’re clever enough to have thought of this on your own, so who gave you the orders?”

“n-no one-”

“you dare lie to me? know your place.”

the cowering man before you seemed to finally accept his fate, shoulders slumping as he fell on his face. “fine, if i’m going down i’m dragging them all with me. i acted on the emperor’s orders.”

had you been anyone else far less competent, the confession would have shocked you. but you were not one to cut corners. by gathering clues over the past five years, this was the last piece of the puzzle that would connect it all together. hearing this from the mouth of the perpetrator himself was all you needed to prove that your efforts over the years had not been in vain after all.

“good job. do you have records of the children? i’m going to find them homes in the village.” you began to search his desk, humming in delight when you found the hidden compartment full of the evidence.

“but..but they’re-“

“oh yes, you ignorant swine. you won’t be needing your side hustle when you’re rotting in hell.” with a single swoop, his head rolled to your feet. and with the coldness of a killer who’d done this far too many times, you stepped over his mangled corpse and slipped into the shadows of the night once more. but as you left, a single stalk of plum blossoms fell into the puddle of blood, the ripples a mere harbinger of what was to come.

[ 𓍝 ] — a/n: rip my sleep schedule…anyway im horrible at smaus so im sticking to writing for now. i had this idea in my head for way too long, and here we are. originally this was supposed to be an wuxiapian au but i decided that was too complicated since im awful at the chinese terminology despite BEING chinese and SPEAKING/READING/WRITING the language on a daily basis. it’s sad really how bad i am with my own culture but ANYWAY. here’s a super long hee fic im deciding between making this a oneshot or a chapter fic. see the issue here we have is that if i make this a oneshot i will DEFINITELY hit like 15k+ which isn’t a bad idea actually but it will take a looong time for it to b released, so if u somehow see this n are interested u can lmk what u wld prefer? enjoy this tiny snippet! (omg how did this end up so long????)

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