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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 8 months

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Last week I did a crash course in all the Julia Davis things, which I meant to post about at the time and then didn’t because I was too busy working. But it was fun. Here’s my updated folder:

I went through all that in a few days last week, except for Human Remains, which I saw last year. It was very good, and it made me want to see more of Julia Davis, but I think that was when I got distracted by No More Jockeys and promptly forgot that anything in the world besides No More Jockeys existed until I’d seen every single episode, wondering how on Earth it had taken me so long to get to that show that was clearly tailor-made to appeal to me.

Anyway. On another recommendation this year, I finally got into Julia Davis properly. Downloaded all the stuff in the screenshotted folder and worked through it probably too quickly. Starting with Nighty Night, the show I mainly knew from having seen people on that old comedy message board talk about it like it was the worst thing in the absolute world. That’s what I learned, last year when I got into reading old (early-to-mid-00s) on a British message board dedicated to comedy but mainly populated by people who fucking hated all comedians and comedy shows except Chris Morris and maybe Stewart Lee, though even he was on thin ice. The things I learned were: John Oliver and Andy Zaltzman were not kidding when they said people hated them back in the day. Josie Long is not exaggerating when she says she avoids the internet these days because of some horrific stuff that was up there about her early in her career. The genius Garth Marenghi was widely panned when it first came out (and I guess recent Ayoade revelations might suggest a right side of history there, but it’s fine, the recent audiobooks are things Matthew Holenss is doing alone). They also hated The Office when it first came out, which is definitely the right side of history. And Little Britain, while I’m giving them credit for being on the right side of history. People who had dedicated an entire website to loving Chris Morris passionately hated Nathan Barley, which I maintain is the incorrect opinion, and I will continue to maintain that until the day Julian Barratt gets canceled (yeah Noel’s done fucked up stuff and Richard Ayoade’s a transphobe, but surely someone from that Boosh show is all right – Julian was the quiet one, right?).

Is it coming across that I was more – to unironically use a word that has been used ironically so often that I barely feel like it can still be used in its real sense anymore, but I can’t think of a better one – triggered than I’d have expected to be by the Russell Brand shit this weekend, and am kind of seeing the world through a prism of everything and everyone is shit? There was no good reason to go off on a tangent about toxic shit from the 00s Britcom world right now. Genuinely, sorry about that. I’m trying to write about some TV shows that I liked. Julia Davis is not responsible for any reprehensible actions of her husband’s friends.

So. The other thing I learned from reading all those old comedy threads was the people fucking hated Nighty Night. That Nighty Night represented everything that’s wrong with comedy these days (those days being 2004), how the comedians from previous generations, back when comedy was great, would barely be able to look at the horrifying stage of the industry as it is now that these talentless young comics (ie. Ricky Gervais) have ruined it. The whole concept of “dark” comedy has fallen so far that they’re even letting women write it now, and look at the horrible result that is Nighty Night!

That’s what I knew about it, and I knew they were probably wrong, but I thought I’d check to make sure, and yep, it turns out they were wrong. Okay, I have to admit, season 2 was pretty bad. It had some good moments, but it was rough overall. Season 1, however, I thought was excellent. I enjoyed it so much.

Season 1 features Julia Davis, Kevin Eldon, Rebecca Front, and the guy who sat next to Mr. Bean while he at a sandwich and hosted about eight episodes of WILTY before getting fired because it turned out he’d had sex. Yes I know Angus Deayton has done a lot of thing besides that, because that’s how I know him. The first three I think are absolutely perfect in their roles. Angus Deayton is fine. Honestly, I don’t think he was bad or anything. I was just really, really stuck by how good the other three were, and not so much with him.

Rebecca Front plays a woman with MS who uses a wheelchair, and there’s a fair question there about whether this counts a representation or whether it’s using a disability for cheap jokes, but I tentatively come down on believe it’s the former. Obviously ideally the role would have been played by an actor who’s an actual wheelchair user, but there is so little representation for that, and this was treated as part of her character, not as constant jokes about it. She was possibly the only sympathetic character in the entire show, and the showed the challenges she faced from not being able to walk as legitimate parts of her path in life, not as excuses to laugh at her.

It is, as people said, the darkest of the dark comedies. Its opening scene is absolutely perfect, as Kevin Eldon finds out he has cancer and Julia Davis immediately makes it about herself. Sets the scene for the whole thing. My only criticism of season 1 might be that I wish Kevin Eldon had had a bigger role. I thought he was excellent, both the actor and the character.

I loved the way they used the tension. I’m not always a fan of cringe comedy, and this was a lot of that, but I thought it was done really intelligently. It wasn’t an easy watch. At one point I put on an episode of 30 Rock, the way I sometimes do after I see a horror movie, to recalibrate my brain from the darkness to which it’s been subjected. But it was really good.

I loved the ending, where they (spoiler alert, for this show from 2004) escalated things in a way that was extreme but still managed to make sense with the character. This moment when you realize “Oh shit, she’s not just a manipulative fucked up person, she’s a God damn serial killer”, and it recontextualizes the whole thing, knowing you’ve been watching the adventures of a woman capable of murder. I love a good recontextualization, in pretty much anything.

Unfortunately, an ending like that rather precludes a strong second season. Season 1 worked because we were seeing violent horrifying impulses set upon the mundane backdrop of suburbia. Watching her have to sublimate her deeply awful nature into polite society. In season 2, she’s left polite society behind, literally and figuratively, so it’s not as interesting anymore. Also, I didn’t really understand the plot anymore. I could buy that she grew obsessed with Angus Deayton as a distraction from the husband she hated, but not that she’d give up her life for him even once that was behind her. For most of season 2, I kept saying… come on, why would you do this? It’s only Angus Deayton.

Anyway, that was her opening gambit. After that, I watched the shows she made in years after that. One that got picked up for multiple episodes – Hunderby, Camping, Sally4Ever; and ones that only made one episode – Lizze and Sarah, and Morning Has Broken. They were certainly interesting to all watch in a row. There are a lot of similarities among them. What I learned from all those shows at once is Kevin Eldon is a terrible husband who should probably be murdered, no one wants to have sex with Alex Macqueen, and Julia Davis keeps trying to outdo herself as worst person in the world.

When I was in my late teens and early twenties, I got really into feminist blogs. I remember that around that time (2008-2012-ish), it was really popular for people to write articles about the concept of the “unlikeable female character”. The way female characters don’t get to be truly unlikeable, they have to be femme fatales that are mysterious and charming and sexy. And female characters who do genuinely unlikeable things get hated by the same audience that love a male “anti-hero”, even if he is objectively worse than that female character. There were all these feminist blog posts saying we need more genuinely unlikeable female characters in the media, we won’t have media equality until women can be just as shitty as men on screen.

Most of those blogs were American, which is a pity, because they’d have loved Julia Davis. She plays a very similar character every time, and it’s horrifying, but like a car crash, where you can’t look away. Her characters’ defining traits tend to be that she’s the really sex woman who gets away with her bullshit because everyone wants to have sex with her, and, okay, someone could make a fair point that it’s a bit weird for Julia Davis to always cast herself in that role. However, there was one exception to this: in Hunderby, she played a character where the running joke was that no one wanted to have sex with her. In that show, every time they made that joke, I thought… oh, come on. Have you seen Julia Davis? How do you expect us to buy that she’s unattractive? So, I guess it’s fair enough for her to normally cast herself in a role that’s more in line with reality.

I can’t decide which one was my favourite. I really liked the language in Hunderby; she did that one so well. It’s a parody of period pieces, and I’m not all that into period pieces, but I know just enough about them to get a lot of the jokes in Hunderby that point out their cliches (there are probably some that went over my head, though). But the fun thing is that doing a period piece gave her an excuse to write a whole language just for that show, a sort of parody of old time-y English, and that brought in so many opportunities for more jokes. So often, a mundane line could be funny just because of the word choice.

Obviously, as a member of Team Gay People, I have to consider Sally4Ever as a potential favourite. Aside from it featuring a gay romance between Julia Davis and April from Peep Show (yes I know Catherine Shepherd has done other things, I saw Peep Show as a teenager so everyone in it is still what they were then in my mind, that guy on WILY is just Mark Corrigan behind a desk), which is great, I thought it might have been the strongest iteration of what she’d been trying to do for years. The character played by Julia Davis could have been the same person as her character from Nighty Night, if that character had moved to a new town and changed her name after the events of Nighty Night. And started dating women, but only for opportunistic reasons.

It was basically the same character, but updated to match the way Julia Davis had improved as writer. She was written just slightly more subtly (still not really subtle – subtle doesn’t seem to be Davis’ thing – but more subtle than Nighty Night), in a way that was so funny. Also, I liked how the perspective changed. Sally4Ever was like if Nighty Night were written from Rebecca Front’s perspective, in that it started out being from the perspective of the woman she victimized, and then we slowly watched the effect she had on that woman, rather than seeing it all from Julia’s perspective. But we could infer all of Julia’s motivations from the perspective we got.

Sally4Ever also featured Julian Barratt, and I like anything that features Julian Barratt. I liked the part where someone told Julian Barratt’s character that he just “has one of those faces that looks like a widower”, which is weirdly accurate, I thought. I was impressed with the writers for coming up with that amusing observation, and then I remembered that the writer is Julia Davis, which of course makes it much funnier.

Julia Davis’ real-life marriage makes a lot of that show funnier, given the central battle between her and Julian’s characters. Some comedy couples go the Stewart Lee/Bridget Christie route, in which they aren’t even willing to say each other’s name on stage, barely acknowledge each other’s existence, except in the vaguest references. Some go the David Mitchell/Victoria Coren Mitchell route, in which they will sometimes appear together on TV and play on their relationship, but very much have their own separate careers with clear boundaries between them. Some go the Jon Richardson/Lucy Beaumont route, in which they build their whole career around each other. And some, apparently, go the Julia Davis route, in which she writes in a whole long plotline where she and her real-life husband Julian Barratt are locked in a deeply horrifying – genuinely horrifying, in the “this belongs in the horror genre” sense of the word – psychosexual battle against each other for the affections of another woman. In which they both, on separate occasions, threaten murder against the other.

So I thought Sally4Ever was excellent, but I still think my favourite of the lot might be Camping. It was just so strong overall, not a single weak episode. I thought every character added something to it, though Vicki Pepperdine, I think, really stole the show. Every time her character said anything, I was impressed with how well she was written and acted.

I thought the plot of that one was well done, all the little details coming out just a thread or two at a time, keeping me engaged all the way through. It wasn’t as harrowing as Nighty Night, but it still had the significant escalation at the end that felt both over-the-top and completely earned. The characters were so well drawn and provide so many different and complex funny interactions. I thought it was brilliant. The two pilots were fun too. Of the two of them, Morning Has Broken is the one that I wish had more episodes. That one seemed to have potential, I’m disappointed that it never went farther. They introduced all these interesting characters in this well drawn situation, with some intrigue and reasons to want to know more. Lizzie and Sarah, the one she wrote with Jessica Hynes, was fun on its own. But I did sort of feel like I’d gotten the point by the end of it.

So that's Julia Davis. It's definitely the sort of thing I should have watched before now. Those feminist blogs were right, we do need more unlikable female characters in the world. And Julia Davis is a hell of a start.

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castiellesbian · 3 years

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i feel like i need a glossary of terms or a contact list for all these people involved with the show. i have shit memory and dont pay attention to the credits who is sera (sara??) and why does everyone hate her!! why is he Bobo!!!!!! please... has anyone posted about this im desperate

lol well including everyone involved with the show would be difficult, but I’ll give you some highlights

Eric Kripke: creator of Supernatural, showrunner for seasons 1-5. People have differing opinions about him but general people enjoyed his run and he’s considered the best showrunner in the series overall. Not much to say because there’s a lot to say lmao (notable episodes: “Pilot,” “Lazarus Rising,” and “Swan Song”)

Sera Gamble: writer who was involved from the beginning of the show, became showrunner after Kripke left. Her seasons, 6 and 7, are typically regarded as the weakest seasons. She was a huge brothers-only supporter, and was responsible for Misha being written out of the show (as well as Jim Beaver, Bobby) in order to get the show to just be about the brothers again. There’s a lot of drama regarding her treatment of Misha/Cas, but more recently she’s known for the Magicians debacle, a horrendous example of the Bury Your Gays trope. She’s also involved with (the showrunner of?) You on Netflix. She was a pretty good writer, but overall fans dislike her because of her showrunning tenure (notable episodes: “Faith” with Raelle Tucker, “Death’s Door,” “The Born-Again Identity”)

Jeremy Carver: writer from season 3 that was promoted to showrunner from seasons 8 through.... some time in 12, the timeline has been a little murky to me. He was the one who brought Cas back into the main plot, as well as allowing the deancas storyline to become genuine subtext (we can argue whether it was queerbaiting or what he was intending to do if he had been running the series finale, but yeah). Unfortunately, he was also the showrunner when Charlie was killed off brutally, which dampens his legacy. People are conflicted about his seasons, but generally he’s looked upon favorably (not related, but the picture that comes up when you search him on google is NOT him, he’s really like a typical white nerdy looking dude lol) (notable episodes: “The Rapture,” “Sacrifice,” “Do You Believe in Miracles?”)

Andrew Dabb: writer from season 4, promoted to showrunner during season 12 and is the last showrunner of Supernatural (he wrote the finale). He was well-liked by deancas fans for awhile because of how much screentime they were allowed to give, and because of the focus on extended/found family. Sam and Dean only fans didn’t like him for the same reasons. Unfortunately, HIS legacy has been marred by the awful series finale, though it’s debated whether that was his fault or because of network meddling. (notable episodes: “Dark Side of the Moon” with Daniel Loflin, “The Prisoner,” “Moriah”)

Robert Singer: executive producer since the beginning of the show (he’s also co-showrunner throughout Supernatural, but I don’t think he typically was involved with the plotlines too often). He’s directed quite a few episodes, including the infamous wire fight episode (s13 finale) as well as the series finale. Married to Eugenie Ross-Leming, writer of the show

Eugenie Ross-Leming/Brad Buckner: writing partners TECHNICALLY from season 1, but they only wrote one episode until they were brought back in season 7. They are regarded as the worst writers in all of Supernatural, responsible for tactless death scenes of fan-favorites (and typically minorities) like Kevin, Charlie, and Eileen. They also feature a gross amount of dubcon/noncon, racism, weird unnecessary sex stuff, and are SUPER into Lucifer for some unknown reason (they have a crush on Mark Pellegrino I guess). They’re also just kind of bad writers in general, their pacing is weird and their plots convoluted. To be fair, though, they have written some good moments, like Dean trying to reach Cas in Hell’s Angel and Dean’s confessional scene in Paint It Black. But overall, they suck. Why are they still on the show even though BOTH sides of the fandom (who never agree on ANYTHING) dislike them? Well, because Eugenie is married to Singer. Nepotism. (notable episodes, the ones I can stand to watch lmao: “Holy Terror,” “Hell’s Angel,” “Our Father Who Aren’t in Heaven”)

Ben Edlund: writer from season 2 who left after season 8, but people STILL talk about him simply because he is arguably the strongest writer of the series. Cas fans particularly like him because he did most of the heavy-lifting regarding Cas’ characterization. He also wrote the famous bi!Dean scene with Aaron in season 8, where Dean is flustered after being flirted with. (notable episodes: “On the Head of a Pin,” “The French Mistake,” and my all-time favorite “The Man Who Would Be King”)

Robert “Bobo” Berens: writer from season 9, his first episode was “Heaven Can’t Wait,” which is all you really need to know about his influence on the deancas storyline. He’s also gay, so people particularly enjoy seeing how he approaches destiel in his episodes since it’s not just another straight guy potentially just catering to fans. He was also the one who was meant to go off and run Wayward Sisters, and is responsible for a lot of their development in recent seasons. I believe he also created Rowena? He wrote the episode this season where Cas confesses his love to Dean (along with other heavy deancas episodes like “The Trap”). Sam fans typically don’t like him because he doesn’t give him much focus. (notable episodes: “Heaven Can’t Wait,” “Who We Are,” “Wayward Sisters” with Andrew Dabb)

Steve Yockey: writer from season 12 through the beginning of season 15. Also gay, and also responsible for deancas moments in recent years. Generally loved for his deancas subtext but ALSO because he is an amazing writer who came out with iconic episodes. (notable episodes: “Celebrating the Life of Asa Fox,” “Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets,” “Peace of Mind” with Meghan Fitzmartin)

Robbie Thompson: writer from seasons 7 through 11, and wrote some fan favorite episodes in the meantime. He is also the creator of fan favorite characters like Charlie and Eileen. He was also one of the few writers who was vocally supportive of destiel during his tenure rather than just later. I’m not implying anything about his intentions, but it was validating for him to encourage fans during a time where most of the cast/crew ignored or actively dismissed it. Plus his episodes are just fun! (notable episodes: “LARP and the Real Girl,” “Fan Fiction,” “Baby”)

Meredith Glynn: writer since season 12, has worked closely with Bobo during their seasons together. She and Bobo cowrote “The Future,” which is the mixtape episode, so she has been taken in by deancas fans haha. She also wrote the episode where Cas makes the deal with the Empty, so it’s pretty safe to say she and Bobo had worked on the deancas plotline together :) She’s also liked some deancas-related tweets on twitter, so she’s being subtly supportive (notable episodes: “Regarding Dean,” “The Future” with Robert Berens, “Byzantium”)

Davy Perez: writer since season 12 (a lot of the ones I’ve mentioned are, since this is when Dabb became showrunner and made changes in the writers room). His episodes tend to either be horror or bizarre. I mention him because he’s responsible for episodes like “Stuck in the Middle (With You)” (Cas’ first “I love you”) and “Tombstone” (aka Brokebacknatural lmao). I don’t know much about him otherwise, but that’s why he’s brought up usually (notable episodes: “Stuck in the Middle (With You),” “Tombstone,” “Atomic Monsters”)

hopefully this helps, and hopefully I didn’t forget about anyone major. There have been a LOT of people behind the scenes so it’s hard to say who to include. Like, I didn’t mention Jerry Wanek, Jim Michaels, Kim Manners, Thomas J. Wright, or others who might be mentioned from time to time.

#Anonymous #long post

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ultraintrovertedgryffindor · 3 years

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WPP - Kenny (We’re The Millers)

This has been sitting in my drafts for months and I was struggling to finish it, but, a bright light ascended from the heavens, in the form of an angel, and that angel’s name is @gladerscake

Big thanks to them for helping me out and finishing this imagine. Go follow them and give all the love and support you can muster!

~~~~~~~~~~

Being in the witness protection program was...interesting.

It definitely was not what you were expecting, but then again, you didn’t know helping out a person you cared about would get you involved in a murder, yet here you are.

You had to leave everything behind, not that you had that much of a life to begin with, but it was comfortable. Now, everything was different. New home in a new state, even a new last name. Thankfully, you got to keep your first name, you were grateful for that at least.

You were surprised to find the most annoying thing was the neighbourhood that the program placed you in. It’s like it was made for Mormons or something, your neighbours were too nice, at least the house to the right of yours. You didn’t really know who lived in the house to the left, working from home had the benefit of never going outside and the only reason you knew who lived to your right was cause those neighbours were the type of people to introduce themselves.

Yuck.

But still, you couldn’t help but be a little curious.

You did know, however, that they had only recently moved in since the one morning truck woke up before your alarm rang that morning. You were grouchy the rest of the day, thus you’ve been slightly petty towards your “new” neighbours since then. You definitely needed to work on your attitude...one day.

After being inside your house for more than a week, you decided you wanted some vitamin D, which you rarely ever did so you must’ve been seriously deprived.

You walked out of the door leading to the backyard with a book in hand, frowning when you saw how overgrown the grass was from your laziness. You told yourself you’d do it later, and by later you meant you would mow your yard when you started to hate yourself enough to the point where you felt too guilty leaving it alone.

You huffed as you sat in one of your lawn chairs that you bought when you moved in, lying to yourself that you were going to spend more time outside when you knew you wouldn’t. A first for everything, you supposed.

A few chapters in, you heard a door open and shut in your neighbour’s backyard, but you thought nothing of it, almost too entranced in your book.

You smiled to yourself when you started to hear 1990s R&B playing softly, not your cup of tea but you enjoyed it occasionally. Don’t Go Chasing Waterfalls had just started playing when you heard the neighbour’s back door slammed. “Dude, turn that shit off! You’ve been playing that song constantly and I’m actually getting sick of it. God.” You heard an angsty female voice.

Oh no...you lived next a family.

“Hey!”

You flinched, noticing a blonde girl was talking you. “Uh, hey?” You slowly closed your book, reluctantly walking over to the fence separating the backyards when the girl motioned you over.

“Haven’t seen you around before, just move in?” She asked, smirking slightly, looking you up and down.

You mocked her smirk, not liking the almost condescending look she was giving you. “No, been here for awhile. That’s how I know you’ve only just moved in a few weeks ago.”

The girl’s smirk only grew. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N. Yours?”

“Casey, and that loser is Kenny.” She pointed to the table behind her, seeing a blonde boy sitting somewhat dejectedly in one of the chairs fiddling with a small CD player. “Hey, TLC, get over here!” The boy looked to Casey with a panicked expression, visibly looking like he wasn’t sure if the girl meant it or not. She rolled her eyes, “Come on, dude!”

The boy nodded, frantically walking away to join Casey at the fence. “Hey.” He stuttered, blushing when he noticed your eyes on him.

Casey rolled her eyes yet again. “Yeah, this is Kenny.”

Kenny waved quite adorably, giving you a tight lipped smile. “Did you just move in?”

“No, I-”

“We’ve already had this talk, she’s been here longer than we have.” Casey interrupted, making your blood boil a little bit, her attitude almost worse than yours.

Kenny frowned slightly, but covered it up with a smile. “Oh.”

“Yep. We’ve already become besties.” You said sarcastically, grinning widely, making Kenny genuinely smile a little.

“Kids!” A middle aged man with a stupid haircut, to you anyway, walked over with hesitant look on his face. “Who’s this?”

“Y/N, your neighbour that’s lived here longer than you have. Saved you the trouble of telling him yourself, Casey.” You sneered.

“Oh. Well, I’m David and we’re the Millers! My wife, Sarah, is at the market right now, but I’m sure she’d be glad to meet you sometime.” He smiled widely, making you uncomfortable.

“Uh, dad, chill out. You’re gonna scare away the only girl I find suitable to be friends with in this shit neighbourhood.” Casey whispered harshly.

You didn’t really want to be friends with Casey, you never really got along with girls. Clearly, reading outside was a bad choice...

“Ha ha, if you sass me one more time today, you will be grounded young lady.” David forced another smile.

“Uh, Dad...”

“Shut up, Kenny.”

You quickly realized where the Kenny kid was in the family food chain. It was a shame, the dude was pretty easy on the eyes and seemed nice from what you’ve seen. “Look, I’m just gonna go. Nice meeting you fine folks...” You waved awkwardly, turning around and practically speed walking inside your house.

Well, that was fun...never going outside ever again.

The overall encounter put you in a sour mood, so when the doorbell rang you prayed to god that it wasn’t the yearly check in with law enforcement cause you’d probably get yourself in trouble with that attitude of yours.

You were mildly shocked to see that awkward Kenny guy outside your door, his eyes trained on his feet before you opened the door. “Kenny Miller, right?”

“Uh...yeah, Miller. Uh, I just want to apologize for my, uh, family’s behavior. They don’t have the best of manners, but they’re good people, I swear!” He ranted at such a quick pace that it almost flew right over your head. “So, yeah, sorry.”

You chuckled at his nervousness. “You don’t have to be sorry, especially on the behalf of your family. They don’t seem like the type to appreciate it anyway.”

His eyes widened, holding up his hands and shaking his head. “No, no, no, it’s not like that! They, uh, appreciate me.” You kept your mouth shut, giving him a sympathetic look with a soft smile. He sighed. “It’s that obvious, huh?”

“To me, it is. I’ve been in that situation before, so it’s not that hard to notice.”

“Oh...well, they can be nice sometimes I guess.”

“I hope so. Well, it was nice to meet you, Kenny.” You stuck your hand out, smiling when he hesitated but shook your outstretched hand gently.

A week later, you and Kenny actually became friends despite the two of you being almost complete opposites. He was able to poke through your cynical exterior, which was extremely rare for someone to do. He made you laugh, smile, and actually enjoy life when you were with him. You didn’t like it at first, but his adorkable personality won you over.

Kenny was more than overjoyed, he finally had a friend, not one out of pity anyway. The first time you two had hung out, he came “home” with a huge grin on his face. Of course, Casey had to tease him about it all the time.

“I still don’t understand how she can be friends with that loser and not me!” Casey ranted. “It doesn’t make sense!”

“Casey, stop calling Kenny a loser, please.” Sarah sighed, tapping away on her keyboard.

As soon as Sarah said that, Kenny walked through the door with another grin on his face. “Hey, Ma!”

“You don’t have to call me that here, hon.” Sarah voiced, shutting her laptop and walking out of the kitchen, but she smiled to herself.

“Pop your cherry yet?” Casey smirked evilly.

Kenny immediately blushed. “I told you, we’re just friends...”

She rolled her eyes. “You obviously want to be more than just friends with her. You should just ask her out and get it over with.”

“But...Melissa...”

Casey huffed loudly. “Dude, I already told you, she’s probably moved on by now. She was a total babe, she can and probably has done way better than you.”

“Hey...” Kenny frowned, to which Casey just shrugged, her eyes training back to her phone. He sighed as he sat down across from his “sister.” “I do like her...but I don’t know how to bring it up. I’m awful at talking to girls about...that kind of stuff.”

Casey snorted. “Yeah, no kidding.” But she dropped her amused smirk when she saw Kenny glaring. “Sorry, sorry.” She sassed. “I mean, it did work out with the ginger to be fair, but we have to stay in this shithole until further notice. But I really do think you should shoot your shot with what’s her name.”

Kenny rolled his eyes. “Y/N.”

“Yeah, whatever. Just-”

“That girl is bad news.” David suddenly voiced, walking into the kitchen.

“What do you mean by that?” Casey asked.

“Uh, hello? Pay attention to your surroundings instead of that stupid phone of yours to see that we are in witness protection. We can’t trust any of these creepy neighbours.”

“Uh, I think you’re a tad bit paranoid, father dearest.”

“Y/N’s really cool though!” Kenny expressed.

David rolled his eyes. “But we don’t really know her, we don’t know if she’s a snitch or something.”

Casey laughed. “Wow, you really are paranoid, dude.”

“Ha ha, very funny, just go to your room and listen to your Metallicas and AC/DCs.”

Casey’s face contorted into a disgusted scowl. “I don’t listen to that garbage.”

“Shut up.” David simply replied, making Casey stand up and storm out of the room and up the stairs. “Look, Ken, I get you like this girl, but you need to be careful. Don’t say things you shouldn’t and all that. You have a tendency to not know when to shut your mouth. So, don’t do that, kay?”

Kenny nodded curtly, avoiding David’s eyes as he felt his face heat up in slight anger. He knew he had some...issues with keeping his mouth shut about things that should be kept a secret, but he grew up, right? He’s not as naïve as he was before they went to Mexico, but his “family” still treated him like he was five. Plus, he knew you weren’t the type to be a snitch.

While Kenny was dealing with feeling underappreciated, you were having your own set of issues to handle. Today was the day for a check up with law enforcement to make sure you were on your best behavior. You always were, but it still made you anxious to no end. And you prayed that Kenny wouldn’t rush in to your house like he got into the habit of doing when you were interrogated.

Of course, that didn’t happen.

“For fuck’s sake...” You muttered under your breath when you saw Kenny’s shocked and scared face when he saw you sitting with a couple local police officers.

On your end, it just looked like he was scared of police officers. But Kenny’s mind immediately went haywire, thinking that you called them over to investigate them even though the police were already informed of “the Millers” situation.

“Kenny, now’s not a good time.” You sighed.

“No, no, it’s okay.” The police officer in front of you said. “We’re done here anyway.” He walked out of your house with his partner, leaving you and Kenny in an awkward silence.

“What was that all about?” Kenny asked, not being able to control the bitter tone in his voice. “Did you think we’re that bad or something?”

“Kenny, I-”

“We’ve been doing really well here!” Kenny interrupted. “No problems with anybody, been on our best behavior.”

“Kenny.”

“I don’t wanna go to jail. I can’t go to jail. We’ve only been here for a couple months.”

“Kenny, stop!” You finally yelled, losing your temper. “They were here to check up on me, for fuck’s sake.”

Kenny’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but still had a slight expression of panic. “Here for you? B-But-”

“I’m in witness protection, you dweeb, same as you.”

“Oh...Wait, how did you know I’m in witness protection?”

“Your family,” You finger quoted, “looks nothing like you. All of you don’t look anything alike. How paranoid and secretive that David is, it wasn’t too hard to put things together. You rambling off like an absolute moron a minute ago just reaffirmed my theory.”

Kenny frowned. “Dang, I thought I had worked on that.”

You smiled slightly. “It’s alright, Ken. I’m no snitch, and I’m not very judgmental about someone’s past. What did you even do though? You’re definitely not the type to break the law.” You chuckled.

“Oh, well, we kinda smuggled some drugs across the Mexican border.” He stuttered.

“Holy shit, dude! That’s sick! What was it? Was it coke?” You grinned, eager to learn.

Kenny blinked at your excitement, but obliged to all your questions, sitting down next to you. “No, it was marijuana.”

Your face slightly dropped in excitement. “Oh. I really think weed should be legal. It’s stupid, it’s not even a hard drug.”

“Well, we’re lucky we even made it out alive. But what did you go through to get yourself here?”

Now, you definitely didn’t judge past crimes of others, if they’ve atoned for it and changed that is, but you had no idea if Kenny would judge you. You actually found yourself not wanting him to look at you in a different light, and you’ve never felt that way before.

Kenny seemed perfectly sweet, almost too sweet to judge anyone, but on the other hand...the stuff that had landed you in the program was definitely heavier than some weed smuggling.

Maybe it would be too much for him. Maybe it would be best to just make something up, something less horrible, something he wouldn’t be too shocked by. As tempting as that route felt, the idea of lying to him weirdly didn’t sit well with you, though.

Kenny was quick to notice the lengthy pause that followed his question, as well as the way your shoulders tensed and your eyes averted to the parquet floor. Oh no. Had he pried into something too personal? Was he an idiot for asking?

“Oh, um...you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to!” Kenny hurried to assure you, slight panic beginning to etch his bluish-green eyes, his fists clenching and unclenching involuntarily. “I was just curious, is all! I’m sorry if it’s too persona-“

“It’s okay!” To his surprise, you pulled on a tight-lipped smile, giving him a look as nonchalant as you could manage at the moment. “Really, you don’t have to apologize for asking. Plus, you already told me about your thing, so...” You trailed off, softly, wondering how to proceed.

As much as you resented the thought of Kenny seeing you differently, you decided even that unpleasant outcome would still be better than lying to him. You’d rather not. You liked Kenny. Despite not having spent a tremendous amount of time together, you could tell he was a genuinely good person, and you definitely enjoyed his company. Not to mention, it would be a blatant lie if you said you weren’t at all attracted to him.

Casey may have spent most of their interactions calling him a “loser” in some form or another, but you couldn’t be farther away from agreeing with her. A part of you was positively annoyed with the way she treated him. Then again, taste is subjective. It wasn’t Casey’s fault if she didn’t have a good sense of it.

With a deep intake of air, you nervously flipped a loose strand of hair over your shoulder, still avoiding direct eye-contact with Kenny. “I, uh...It’s a rough one, really. And kind of a long story. I wouldn’t wanna dump something like that on you, if you’d rather not hear it”

He tentatively pursed his plump lips, but nonetheless nodded for you to keep going. “I’m sure I can handle it! Whatever it is, I’m not gonna judge you, Y/N. I promise!”

Promise, huh? Guess you were going to have to see about that.

Trying to ignore the rapidly increasing pace of your heart and slight tremble in your fingers, you began your story.

You didn’t want to go into too much detail, for the fear of oversharing, but you did tell him as much as you felt you could. About how you used to have a friend...a pretty close friend, who you cared about a great deal, who had always been kind and generous, alas, a bit of a troublemaker.

About how she had fallen in with the wrong crowd, something you admittedly failed to see coming. How that crowd turned out to be a notoriously vicious gang that had it out for some other poor girl, who had apparently slept with one of the gang leaders’ boyfriend without realizing it.

How that gang, your friend included, lured her onto a rooftop to “fuck with her” and “teach her a lesson.” Only that night, they went too far and ended up pushing her off. The girl died instantly, and due to the heaping pile of evidence, it wasn’t a particularly long investigation. Almost everyone involved were arrested shortly after, and you, having been brought in as one of the witnesses, had a choice whether you wanted to testify against your friend or not.

At first you weren’t sure if you wanted to do that and make matters worse for her. However, after some much-needed reflection and consideration, you decided it would be the right thing to do. Someone had died, and your friend played a part in it. You couldn’t turn a blind eye to something that big simply because you two were close.

Your friend was put away, along with several other gang members. Still, quite a few of them were still out there, and they definitely seemed like the type to hold serious grudges. You were no longer safe at your former home, and now...well, there you where.

Kenny listened intently all the while, not once daring to interrupt, not even to ask a question. By the way your breathing had hitched and your lips had stuttered at certain parts, he could tell how hard that must’ve been for you to go through in the first place, and how unsettling it was for you to revisit those moments in order to share your story with him.

You didn’t notice, but as you were nearing the end, Kenny had inched to sit closer to you, his large hand carefully landing on your shoulder with a soft but warm-hearted squeeze. He had briefly hesitated in making that move, but the need to offer you comfort and reassurance overpowered his nervousness. His only hope was that you wouldn’t flinch at his touch, and so he felt a huge wave of relief wash over him when you did no such thing.

“So...that’s about it. Sorry, I know it’s a fucking bummer story, compared to your weed smuggling adventure.” You attempted a chuckle, only it came out as more of a sad scoff.

Your heart was still pounding and you were still reluctant to look up at him. Although, as you finally noticed Kenny’s warm hand gently squeezing your shoulder, you felt a soothing brush of comfort spread through your limbs, and you couldn’t deny how nice it felt.

“Whoa...that’s...I’m so sorry you had to go through that.” Kenny frowned, unsure of what the right thing to say could be.

“It’s okay, really. I’ve had some time to process it and move on. Well...not completely, but I’d say I’m doing much better now.”

Kenny went silent for a minute, clearly still digesting the information, and the worries you had about him looking at you differently came back in full force. You opened your mouth to ask him about it, but he beat you by a millisecond, speaking first. “Why...why were you so nervous about telling me?”

So he had noticed. Figures. The art of the poker face wasn’t something you’d ever truly mastered. It sometimes annoyed you how easy your anxious state was to spot, but there wasn’t much you could do about that.

“I don’t know, I...I guess I didn’t want you to see me as a snitch or judge me-“

“Judge you?” Kenny interrupted, sounding confused about the mere insinuation. “For what, not sticking up for your friend when she had got herself involved in a murder?”

“I mean, she was still my friend, so...”

“So what? That doesn’t change the fact that she got in the middle of something so horrible, that could’ve been avoided, if she had paid more attention to who she hung around.”

You couldn’t say you had expected that. It was almost weird hearing Kenny talk that way, but you were definitely relieved to hear where he so firmly stood in regards to the whole “judging you” idea.

You bit your bottom lip in agitation as a thought you had been wrestling with for a while creeped its way into your mind again. “Sometimes I feel like maybe I could’ve done something...could’ve checked up on her more or somehow stopped her from hanging out with them...maybe I could’ve kept her from having anything to do with it.” Your voice grew quieter, sounding barely above a whisper as guilt flashed through your eyes, your muscles tensing, uneasily, at the thought. Kenny was immediately closer, his arm wrapping around you, as if trying to shelter you from your own thoughts.

“Come on, don’t do that to yourself, Y/N. You can’t control the actions of others, not even your friends. Least of all your friends, probably.”

You allowed a small smile to touch the corner of your lips as you instinctively leaned into Kenny, his closeness calming you, his soft reassurances shushing the self-deprecating thoughts he could sense looming over you.

“Yeah, you’re right, I guess. I just try not to think about it often, it really sucks diving into that stuff.”

“Of course it sucks. I just hope you know that none of it was even a little bit your fault. From what I can tell after spending some time with you...you’re a really good person, Y/N.”

You looked up at him, noting the way your faces were only a few inches apart by that point. The close proximity brought a rosy tinge to your cheeks. “You think so?”

“I do! Why wouldn’t I? You’re smart, you’re funny when you want to be, you’re great to be around, and heck, you’re one of the very few people I know who doesn’t make me feel like I’m constantly doing something wrong.”

Hearing that made you simultaneously happy and sad. With the way Kenny’s “family” treated him almost around the clock, it was no wonder he felt that way. You wished he didn’t have to. You believed someone as wonderful as him deserved so much better. If only he had at least one person close to him who would tell him how much better he was than most guys out there, how anyone should be lucky to call him a friend... or maybe more than just a friend.

In that moment, you found yourself thinking what it would be like if you were that person. You imagined it would feel the same way it always did when you were around Kenny, only better. In all honesty, you couldn’t find a single reason not to try. What harm was there in trying? Oh, that’s right...something could go badly wrong, and then whatever friendship you had with him would be in shambles.

That’s what the pessimistic side of you thought about it. But the other side, the more hopeful and affectionate side, had other ideas.

Even though you and Kenny were brought into the witness protection program by very different circumstances, you were still in it together. You didn’t have to hide your true identities or your past, at least not from each other. That had to count for something, right?

While you were taking a second to collect your thoughts, Kenny was facing some inner turmoil of his own. With the newfound closeness of the two of you, his cheeks were positively crimson, his pulse quickening, heart thumping against his rib cage. Any doubts he’d had about whether or not he wanted to ask you out had vanished - he absolutely wanted to do that. But how? When? Would now be a good time? He wasn’t sure. Yet, he was very aware of the fact that if he were to lean in just a little bit closer, he could just kiss you right then and there...

Kenny briefly remembered David’s “count to three” method, but for some reason it didn’t feel right to use. Not with you, not like that. All he wanted was to just go with the feeling, and that feeling was beckoning him to your lips.

Oh, screw it. If you were to push him away, so be it. He would probably die a little inside and never attempt to do anything like that ever again, but at least he would know your immediate answer.

“Kenny...?”

Your soft questioning voice reached his ears as his gaze trailed over your delicate face, taking in every feature, and with a soft but resolute breath, he leaned in.

Your eyes went wide when Kenny’s lips landed on yours. You froze for a second, not knowing what to do. Luckily, your instantly skipping heart gave you the hint you needed to flutter your eyes closed and melt into it.

He kissed you so gently, so carefully, but not like he was afraid of scaring you away. More like he wanted you feel completely safe and give you every chance to stop it the second you wanted to.

You didn’t.

Instead, you wrapped an arm around his neck, your fingertips brushing the ends of his short sandy hair, your lips moving seamlessly and warmly against his own.

Kenny couldn’t believe you were actually kissing him back, but damn, he was thrilled that you were. He felt the affection in him surge as the softness of your lips put his mind in a haze. His hand timidly slid down to your waist, bringing you closer to him, and you willingly went, deepening the kiss as you did.

After a few blissful moments you finally broke away from his lips, your noses nearly brushing each other as you looked up at him through glimmering eyes. “I was almost convinced I would have to do that myself...”

Kenny breathed a soft chuckle, not taking his gaze off of yours. “To be honest, so was I...”

You grinned at his burning cheeks, releasing a light chuckle of your own before reconnecting your lips for another kiss, swallowing the muted grunt that rumbled from Kenny’s throat.

Things were going to get better now. For both of you, you were sure of it. Kenny was finally going to have someone who would show him what it’s like to be truly wanted and appreciated, and you were going to have someone who wouldn’t dream of hurting you and who you knew would always do his best to understand you, give you everything he could give.

Maybe this whole witness protection program thing wouldn’t be such a tedious affair, after all.

~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks again for helping me @gladerscake , you’re the sweetest ❤

#we're the millers #kenny miller #kenny miller x reader #kenny miller imagine

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agentnico · 3 years

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The Suicide Squad (2021) Review

This may be the better of the two, but the first Suicide Squad film will always hold the crown for managing to win an Oscar... somehow.

Plot: The government sends the most dangerous supervillains in the world -- Bloodsport, Peacemaker, King Shark, Harley Quinn and others -- to the remote, enemy-infused island of Corto Maltese. Armed with high-tech weapons, they trek through the dangerous jungle on a search-and-destroy mission, with only Col. Rick Flag on the ground to make them behave.

“So that’s it, huh? We’re some kind of suicide squad?” says Will Smith in the original first film, with the line in itself being a poor attempt at a fourth wall break, yet, that movie never reached that promise of being a true Suicide Squad film. Because hardly anyone died, and as a whole David Ayer’s film was a generic mess, regardless of studio interference or not. In comes James Gunn from Marvel, who seems to have cracked the code for how to bring this comic book series to live action in proper gratuitous form, with even the ‘The’ in the title symbolizing that this is the one!

I remember going to see the first Guardians of the Galaxy film at the cinema, and back then I was still only just getting acquainted with watching western media, and that included superhero films. Heck my first ever Marvel movie was Thor: The Dark World! I know, what a banger to start with.......NAAAWT!! Anyway, I went to see Guardians and it was one of the first superhero films I came out of feeling like I truly witnessed something special. It had action, comedy and a good heart to it, and wouldn’t you know, my good old pal James Gunn was behind that flick. I don’t know why I called him my good old pal, I don’t even know the fella. Except in my dreams, but we don’t talk about that. So, flashforward to Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, which I absolutely hated, and for that movie I’m pretty sure Marvel gave Mr Gunn mostly full reigns of creative freedom, as long as he kept it family friendly, and the result was a mess. Hence naturally now I was really sceptical when James Gunn ended up at Warner Bros. following the controversial moment when cancel culture decided to aim it’s slimy fingers at him, as he was given directing and writing duties for this new The Suicide Squad film, and also it was heavily insinuated that Warner Bros. basically told him he could do with the movie whatever the f*** he wanted, excuse my French. And we remember how it panned out last time when James Gunn was given a lot of creative freedom.

Flashforward to present day; here I am wondering and scratching my head thinking what in the heavens has happened, as by golly I am happy to report that The Suicide Squad is a total winner and a blast with a capital B - Blast! Gosh goodness golly goblin, this movie is so much fun from beginning to end. Right from the opening sequence you know that this film isn’t holding back any punches. It’s going at a 447.19 km/h speed of a Koenigsegg Agera RS crashing through any barriers like it’s nothing. Speaking of the opening sequence, it establishes why the movie is called what it’s called from the get-go. You straight away are proven how not a single character is safe, minus the obvious one that we know who it is, as there ain’t no way Warner Bros. would have allowed James Gunn to kill off that one character. But besides that person, everyone else feels like they could die at any given moment. That’s really a big charm of it, as it is frustrating how in many superhero films, let alone any blockbuster action flicks, so many characters always feel so safe and unstoppable, no matter how many times they get shot or how many buildings crash down upon them. And yes, this movie features a certain CGI character that constantly gets that treatment and survives, although it’s very self aware in that regard and is purposefully humoristic. But overall the entire set of characters feel easily disposable, and so so many of them die in such gruesome fashion, so indeed don’t get attached, as they don’t.

Speaking of which, this movie is hardcore gory! You see limbs and intestines flying round left and right, a guy gets ripped in half by a humanoid shark, another’s face gets teared off by a shotgun bullet and so on forth in all kinds of gruesome fashion. Visually this is one for the big screen, as here’s the thing: you’re either a mummy’s boy or you grow some cojones and go see a man’s heart get stabbed with a piece of debris glass in 4K high rate definition! Your choice! Oh, and it’s not just the violence, also the cinematography and the practical set pieces all look incredible. This is easily James Gunn’s best looking movie. The entire think LOOKS incredible!

We also have to talk about the cast, as they are all great! There literally isn’t a single weakling among them. Each one, no matter how big or small their role is, brings something to the table. I can’t talk about all of them, as we’d be here all day, so I’m simply going to mention a few of the stand-outs. Idris Elba comes in to replace Will Smith as a character called Bloodsport, who is in some ways a different character but evidently is a replacement of Smith’s. But that’s no bad thing, as with any ensemble movie you still need a main character to latch onto and have an emotional hook towards, and he is that character. In fact, I’d say he’s arguably better than Will Smith in the last movie, or at least he seems to be having more fun here. He works as a solid leading man, however what works even more is his banterous competitive genital-size-measuring back and forth with John Cena’s Peacemaker, who by the way is awesome as that character. He is not a good character, in fact he is as bad as a bad guy can get, especially cause he’s someone who believes that what he is doing is right, making him much more of a dangerous wild card. This is easily John Cena’s best role, with him adding to the comedy one-liners, but also delivering such an interesting character who I’m looking forward to seeing more of in his standalone spin-off show confirmed for next year. Oh, and he wears a toilet helmet on his head which he defines as “a beacon of freedom” which says it all. We also have returning characters from the last film Joel Kinnaman and Viola Davis as Rick Flag and Amanda Waller respectively, and both are given much more room to stretch their talents and spread their beautiful acting wings like the Hollywood angels that they are. Kinnaman’s Rick Flag is the moral compass of the group, as even though Elba is our main guy, he’s nonetheless a villain still, whilst Flag is a genuinely good guy and what is defined as a true American hero, to which Kinnaman fits the part well. And Viola Davis as Amanda Waller is on an absolutely different level. You can tell she’s an Academy Award winner through and through, as she plays such a serious character in an otherwise goofy movie, and so her presence is felt and it is felt BAD! She’s such a despicable yet intimidating personality and she gravitates all of the screen presence to herself. Margot Robbie returns as Harley Quinn, and she gets even more chance to develop this character that she’s played in multiple DCEU films now, and as per usual the Harley Quinn shtick works well for her, though I do kind of wish she didn’t always get all the attention. Look, I think she’s a fun character and Robbie plays her well, however she’s constantly used to overshadow others in these films which I don’t think is too fair, and its evident as ever in this film too. Anyway, the remainder of the cast including Jay Courtney as Captain Boomerang, David Dastmalchian as Polka-Dot Man, Michael Rooker as Savant, Nathan Fillion as TDK, Daniela Melchior as Ratcatcher 2 (who gave me strong A Plague Tale: Innocence vibes) and many more all play villains, but villains that don’t have particularly great superpowers. This is where the tragedy of Task Force X as a team plays a part, as many of these villains aren’t even good at being villains. They are useless, and the movie is really self aware of this and so treats all characters as they should be. Dare I also not forget to mention the CGI characters in this film, with both Weasel and King Shark being absolute scene stealers!

The Suicide Squad is the type of wham-bam-thank-you-mam batshit crazy entertainment which exists for the pure reasons of fun. It doesn’t set out to be the best superhero film ever, nor does it need to be. It’s an exhilarating, shocking, funny and amusing ride from beginning to end, with the energy never stopping, and is easily the best time I’ve had with a comic-book film in a long while, and I’m even talking about before COVID! Do yourself a favour and watch this one as soon as you can, as I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again - The Suicide Squad is a BLAST!!

Overall score: 9/10

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ah-ga-seven · 4 years

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Till’ The End of Summer - Chapter 1

>> series masterlist <<

Pairing: Choi Yeonjun x Reader

In a Nutshell: College!AU, Rich Kids, Friends to Lovers, Fuckboy athlete Yeonjun, Overprotective Best friend Soobin, contains all of TXT and other Idol cameos, Omnipresent perspective.

Synopsis: You and Yeonjun are caught up in a cat and mouse game because of unspoken feelings and endless pining for each others’ attention. With the summer break approaching and lots of college parties, will you finally get a chance to explore your feelings for each other even though the world and Yeonjun’s reputation makes things complicated?

Word count: 3.2K

Genre: Angst, Fluff,

Warnings: Mentions of sex, alcohol, overall pretty tame.

A/N: English isn’t my first language, pls don’t come for me ;) Also the first chapter sucks and is more of an introduction so pls give ch 2 a chance lmaoo, it’s juicy, i promise.

You were exhausted.

Your second year of college had passed like a whirlwind and you didn’t even have the time to realise.

Deadline after deadline after deadline had passed and you finally handed in your last paper of the year.

You sigh in relief. The pent up tension leaves ur body and the stress seems to fade more and more as the seconds pass. You stare blankly at your laptop screen. Still not quite realising how you managed to write ten thousand words of scientific research just 3 days before the deadline.

You feel two firm hands on your shoulders, massaging you as a way to show comfort “Hey, are you okay? You look like you’re about to cry.”

The voice and sudden skinship startled you a little but as soon as you realise who it is, you relax in his touch.

You remove your Airpods and look up at your best friend, Soobin, who sat down next to you at your favourite secluded table in the school’s cafeteria. It’s where your friends could always find you if you had work to do.

“I just might” you sigh throwing your head back. And suddenly a huge grin crept up your face. Which worked contagiously as Soobin instantly started to smile back at you.

“I did it. I finished all of the work.” You say putting your hand on your forehead dramatically.

Soobin chuckled nudging your shoulder. “I told you, you’d be fine. You always manage to pull through even though you procrastinate so much.” He says as he high-fives you.

You pout at his statement. Yes. It’s a serious problem. “I just-”

You stop your sentence midway as that god walks into the cafeteria. His confident stride to the soda machine dressed in simple athletic wear made your jaw drop slightly. He was sweaty, probably from basketball practice. His chestnut hair damp, cascading his forehead and prickling his eyes. He blinked a few times before blowing the hair out of his face with his pouty lips.

You swallow harshly at the sight and Soobin follows your gaze. You hear him chuckle, right before he flicks your forehead.

“Maybe if you stopped drooling over my roommate, you would’ve been able to focus.”

You send him a glare, kicking his knee under the table, making him yelp out in pain, which caught someone’s attention.

Yeonjun takes out his soda from the machine as his head snaps in your direction. He smiles and approaches your table. Your heart decided to do martial arts in your chest with every step he took towards your table.

You look away from his gaze quickly pretending to be busy with your laptop.

“Hey, what’s up?” Yeonjun said ‘bro-fiving’ Soobin.

“Nothing much, just the usual abuse from miss thing here,” Soobin says sending you a look as he rubs his knee.

“Abuse? I didn’t know you were into that.” Yeonjun says giving you a coy smile, and you nearly choked at his words, looking at him wide-eyed.

You try your best to keep your cool, but Yeonjun was leaning against your chair, inching dangerously close, looking over your shoulder.

“Watchu working on?” he asks cutting the tension.

Oh Yeonjun, always so friendly and interested. If only he knew the effect he had on you. Or the effect he had on at least half of the female and male population of your elite college.

“N-nothing. I mean I just finished it. It’s the paper for Mr. Davis’s class. The last one, so summer can finally start.” You ramble, not sure why you’re telling him all of these details. It’s not like he cares.

You take a mental note to shut up, stealing a quick glance from Soobin who was awkwardly shifting in his seat.

Yeonjun let out a chuckle, patting your back. “Good job, I knew you could do it. This paper will give you an advantage next year right?”

You look up in confusion. “How’d you know?”

“Soobinnie here told me that this paper was the reason you bailed on the party two days ago. Such a shame, would’ve been nice to have you there you know…” Yeonjun says a little lost in thought absentmindedly moving a strand of your hair behind your ear.

Was he? Flirting?

“I have all the time in the world now, so if you want to see me so badly, just give me a call.” You say confidently crossing your arms. You were testing him, and he seemed amused by your sudden confidence.

Soobin rolled his eyes at the two of you. Yeonjun is a notorious fuckboy. A star player of the basketball team, rich, handsome, charming but also his best friend and teammate. You were also his best friend that he had known since childhood, which means that the two of you were a recipe for disaster in his books.

The two of you planned to go to the same college since your parents pushed you to do so, but also because you two are joined at the hip since birth. Oh and did you mention that Soobin was the one with the full basketball scholarship, while you had to rely on your actual brain to get one?

Ever since you started college and were introduced to Choi Yeonjun, you had a meaningless crush on him. But since time passed and you got close to Soobin’s friends and vice versa, your feelings towards him seemed to escalate and you could tell that Yeonjun was into you too. You just didn’t know in what way.

Soobin always tried his best to keep you two apart because he didn’t want you to get hurt. Soobin knew Yeonjun was just going to be in it for the sex and is not ready for a relationship in any way or form.

But Soobin also knows that if you have set your mind to something, there’s absolutely no way that he can talk you out of it. You have always had a fascination for bad boys, wanting to fix them and then crying to Soobin about it when it didn’t work out. It might be the quality he hates about you the most.

But this time it was different. This time it was between two people that Soobin genuinely cared for. So he was against the two of you having any type of relationship other than friendship.

Soobin cleared his throat, diverting the attention back to him. “That sounds nice and all, but I think y/n will be going back home for summer. Right?”

You’re confused by Soobin’s sudden cock blocking and raise your eyebrow at him.

“No, actually. I’m not. Not this year. My parents are traveling through Europe so there’s nothing for me to go home to.” You say. Soobin knows about this. So why would he mention you going back home?

“Well. That’s great. Then we can finally hang out with the whole squad without any of us bailing because of school work.” Yeonjun says smiling.

“Anyways, I’ve got to go. I guess I’ll…see you around?” Yeonjun asks staring at you intently. You just nod in response giving him a smile, which he returned to you immediately. It was more of a smirk than a smile though and you could swear his eyes wandered to your chest, but you didn’t want to jump to any conclusions.

“See you back home bro” Yeonjun said patting the younger one on his shoulder before walking off.

As Yeonjun was out of sight, your head snaps back to Soobin, who was glaring at you.

“What was that about,” you say crossing your arms, fire spitting from your pupils.

“That’s so NOT happening” Soobin states taking a sip out of his water bottle while keeping eye contact.

“Excuse you?” you say lost for words.

Soobin just shrugs, he’s visibly annoyed and you know not to push his buttons right now but you decide to do so anyway.

“Listen, I know you’re practically my brother and all. But you’re not. So I don’t see why you need to act like you are, I like him Soobin. Let me explore my feelings for him a little.” You say in a hushed tone trying not to sound too bitchy, but Soobin just scoffs in response, rolling his eyes at you.

“It’s your feelings that I’m worried about y/n, cause he certainly doesn’t care. He just wants to fuck. If he actually liked you, he wouldn’t look at you like you’re a meal. He’d look at you with affection.”

You’re taken aback by his statement and you’re not so sure if you should bite back at him. Instead, you let him explain some more as you wave your hand at him as a sign for him to continue.

“I care about both of you. I just don’t want this y/n, because when worse comes to worst I will have to choose, and then I will choose you and everything will go to shit. I am his captain, we have the same group of friends, we share multiple classes, hell, we share a whole apartment” Soobin sighs massaging his temples.

“Ok…Ok…Jesus” you give in.

“I promise; I won’t engage” you pout.

“Good,” Soobin says. “Please for once just…listen to me. Trust me, he’s not the type of guy to want a relationship right now.”

“Ok.” You sigh. “But this means you and your girlfriend will be stuck with me all summer then.”

Soobin looks up, confused at how easy it was to talk you out of it. He smiles at you sweetly and his eyes disappear into crescent moons as he does so. “I can’t wait to get mani-pedi’s.” He laughs sarcastically clapping his massive hands together cutely while visibly relaxing in his seat.

Suddenly your heart gets all soft at the sight of the giant baby in front of you. In a way he is right. He’s telling you all the things that you already knew. And the last thing you wanted was to hurt Soobin for some dumb crush you had on a college boy.

“Soobin is just the captain cause he’s the tallest” Yeonjun argues.

You giggle at his childish statement. You were at the park off-campus with some of your friends. Soobin had his arm draped around his girlfriend Mia’s shoulder while she leaned into him. They were disgustingly adorable. And every time they displayed a little too much PDA all of your friends would throw snacks at them.

Beomgyu, Taehyun, and Hueningkai had also joined you on the picnic. You were sitting with your legs draped over Beomgyu’s so there would be enough space for everyone on the blanket you brought.

All of you munched on different types of snacks. And you tried your hardest to keep your distance from Yeonjun without making it obvious.

“Soobin hyung is the captain because he’s not as full of himself as you are” Taehyun said, making everyone but Yeonjun laugh.

He gave Taehyun the glare of death and pouted afterward to show playfulness. “I get no respect in this household” Yeonjun sighs as he throws an M&M at Tae’s head, which he dodged just in time.

Your heart did a jump at the sight of his pout and as if he could sense it, Yeonjun made eye contact with you.

He smirked, looking away when you did.

Mia looked at you, narrowing her eyes as she saw the way you two were stealing glances from each other like high school kids.

Mia was one of your closest friends whom you had introduced to Soobin in the first year. They started dating not long after they met. And from time to time you still remind them of the fact that if it weren’t for you, they’d be sad and lonely.

Mia knew you like the back of her hand, just like Soobin did. So keeping a secret from either of them was basically impossible. The two of them tend to gang up on you a lot. Even though you know It’s out of love and concern, it’s still really fucking annoying sometimes. Especially when it comes to your love life.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” you say getting up. Beomgyu reluctantly removed his arm from your leg and uses it as a supporting rod for you to get up.

You smile and thank him, which made Yeonjun narrow his eyes at the two of you, which Mia also noticed.

Soobin however was lost in deep conversation with Hueningkai about some Math problems he had.

Huening was a freshman, just like Tae, but since they were on the basketball team as well, they were all pretty close. And they helped each other out whenever they could.

You admired their friendship and were happy to call them your friends as well.

“I’ll come with you,” Mia says untangling her man's arms from her waist as she tries to get up, earning a sad pout from Soobin in return. “Come back soon,” he said sighing.

“Don’t be disgusting” Yeonjun and you say at the exact same time. Earning chuckles from everyone.

You look at each other surprised and laugh like the two of you were in your own world.

This time, Soobin noticed, and you try your best to avoid his gaze.

“You two are just bitter cause you’re single” Taehyun stated throwing his head back in evil laughter.

“Well so are you, so are all of you except for them so what’s your point exactly” Yeonjun bites back giving Taehyun a beaming smile while stuffing his face with a handful of the chocolates.

“Ehm, shall we?” Mia nudged you and you nodded as the boys’ bickering became background noise while you walked off together.

“Why do chicks always go to the bathroom together” Hueningkai questioned with genuine curiosity.

“So they can talk shit in private,” Beomgyu said wiggling his eyebrows.

As Mia and you walked further and further from your spot, Mia looks over her shoulder to determine if it’s a safe enough distance to start gossiping.

“Dude” she nudges you while speaking in a hushed tone.

“Why were you and Yeonjun literally eye-fucking each other in front of everyone.”

Your eyes grow wide and you turn around facing her. “Eye-fucking” you repeat her, suppressing a chuckle while trying to be as nonchalant as possible.

“I think you’re seeing things.” You say shrugging.

“Am I y/n?” she looks at you with a stern expression, and this time you’ve had about enough.

You sigh in frustration as you open the door to the public bathroom entrance.

“Look, Soobin already gave me the ‘Yeonjun is a fuckboy so stay away’ lecture, I really don’t need to hear it again.”

“Soobin lectured you about not engaging with Yeonjun?” Mia says surprised.

You raise your eyebrows. “You didn’t know? I thought he told you everything.”

Mia sighs. “If you like him, who’s Soobin to tell you what to do with those feelings?”

Your jaw drops, in awe of the fact that she’s siding with you on this one. “But if he hurts you, I’ll break his ankles.” She says determined, with her psycho protective smile. Ah, there it is.

“Well. Soobin really gave me an ultimatum. He basically says that if things end badly, he would have to choose between us and that it’d ruin not only his friendship but the team’s teamwork and everything. I don’t want to have that on my conscience just because I’m lusting over Yeonjun.”

Mia nearly busted a lung laughing and you cocked your eyebrow at her in surprise. “What are you laughing about” you try to suppress a smile, amused by her sudden outburst.

“He. Is. So. Dramatic” she says still recovering from her laughing fit.

“He is?” you ask genuinely interested in her point of view.

“Yes, he is. Look I don’t want to be the one to push you into toxicity or anything but we know Yeonjun. He is sweet? And nice. And he has never given me an off vibe. I can tell he has eyes for you, the only problem is that a lot of girls have eyes for him too and that can become a problem. The issue is if YOU can handle that.” Mia fixes your hair while she speaks and you sigh.

She’s right. “But Soobin”

“Oh fuck Soobin, I’ll keep my mouth shut. Just live a little. What’s the worst that could happen.”

“Did you pee out the whole lake? That took forever.” Soobin states yanking Mia back into his lap.

“I missed you,” he says nuzzling his face in her neck.

“Ok, gross.” Beomgyu rolled his eyes.

“There was a line” you lie walking over to Yeonjun’s side, sitting down between him and Hueningkai this time. This action earned a look from Soobin, who was basically cursing at you with his eyes, all while Mia smiled at you knowingly. It also earned a look from Yeonjun, he looked at you surprised but content, and he gave you a sweet smile, his facial expression softened immediately when you nudged him playfully as you sat down next to him.

The whole afternoon was spent laughing and bickering. Listening to the boys’ none sense and Taehyun making snacks disappear and appear with his never-ending magic tricks. All while the six of you were busting your brains trying to solve Hueningkai’s mathematical equations for his engineering class.

Yeonjun inched closer to you from time to time. The both of you were in charge of the music that was blasting from your portable speaker. You compared your Spotify playlists and noticed how much you have in common with him music-wise. It was fun seeing Yeonjun becoming all passionate about his favourite artists, it certainly didn’t help the fact that you were trying to keep a distance from him. Cause his cute little mannerisms and the way he gets so engrossed in his storytelling made you fall for him even more. Face first to be exact.

From time to time you would feel Yeonjun’s gaze linger on you. He’d ‘accidentally’ brush his arm against yours or he would touch your thigh, asking you to pass him another can of soda.

It was a lot, but you couldn’t say you hated it.

“It’s getting late” Taehyun says getting up. “We need to prepare for the party tonight”

his statement earned hums, moans, and groans from everyone.

“Whose party?” you asked.

“Johnny. That senior from the photography major” Yeonjun answered, looking at you with a hopeful expression. “You’re coming right?”

You smiled at him, nodding your head. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Dude this is a disaster,” you say rummaging through your clothes while you were on Facetime with Mia. “I don’t have anything to wear”

Mia rolled her eyes at you. “You trying to impress someone?” she said stuffing her face with seaweed chips.

You stare at her through the screen “Listen, you little shit. Just because you’re in a happy marriage doesn’t mean you get to be all sarcastic and judgy”

She snorted “Marriage!? Oh please. You’re just trying to impress Yeonjun and that’s fine. Just wear something that covers the least amount of skin, he’ll like it.”

“You’re a menace to society” you state, Mia shrugs at your choice of words and laughs. “But you’re right.” You give in grabbing a strappy lilac mini dress. “Then I guess this is contestant number one”

“Ooh, yes! Love that, wear that.” Mia enthusiastically exclaims giving you a thumbs up.

“Okay, that was a lot easier than I thought this was going to be, I’m gonna finish getting ready. You and Soobin are picking me up, right?”

“Yes, we are. Be ready at 11.”

“Alright, see you, bye”

“Bye.”

You throw your phone on your bed and hold the dress in front of your figure, looking at yourself in the mirror. You sigh, getting a rush of anxiety and butterflies in your stomach as you think of seeing Yeonjun again tonight.

Let’s see where this goes.

Chapter 2

566 notes · View notes

starktonyx · 5 years

Text

Inexperienced (Peter Parker x reader)

Word count: 3k

Requested by anon: Teaching inexperienced Peter how to kiss and it escalates quickly.

Note: At first I didn’t know how to write this but I really like the way it turned out, I hope this is what you wanted! Also I hoped this to be short but whenever I write things get out of control so sorry lol. Anyway enjoy!

Masterlist

Peter had a plan.

Ever since he knew about the science trip, Peter made a plan to confess his feelings for you. And it was perfect really, if things went the way he planned them, except they didn't.

Of course the first step failed when he had ended up sitting next to Mr. Harrington on the flight after Ned had claimed he had a perfume allergy. And of course you ended up sitting next to your ex, Brad Davis.

The Brad Davis. The once scrawny eleven year old boy, now ripped sixteen year old guy had dated you for around a year and half during the blip, since you both were part of the un dusted ones. And Peter wasn't the kind to feel intimidated by enemies, in fact he always ran in the direction of danger, but damn he felt embarrassingly intimidated by the six feet tall guy, thinking himself wouldn't be good enough for you.

Pushing those thoughts away, Peter still wanted to follow his plan and bought you a glass necklace of your favorite flower, which he was planning to give you on top of the Eiffel Tower when he confessed his feelings for you and then hopefully have his first kiss with you.

But fuck, Nick Fury had kidnapped his classmates and taken them to Prague so now he couldn't do that anymore. And not to mention how Brad was trying to get back with you, even though you had broken up almost a year ago.

He had a plan, and it didn't work.

Which brings us to Peter anxiously pacing back and forth in his fancy room, running a hand through his already messy hair every few minutes as he struggled to calm himself down.

"What am I going to do" He mumbled to himself, starting between the little box that contained the necklace and the black suit Fury had gave him on top of the bed.

Peter was about to have an existential crisis, because it doesn't matter how selfish he sounded at the moment, he didn't want to fight some monster in his vacations, he just wanted to be with you. And that was practically impossible, considering he had to confront a the fire elemental that night which meant Brad would try to get close to you.

He was startled when he heard an almost inaudible knock on his door, stopping his pacing to half open the door as to not reveal his suit on the bed, and was surprised when he found you on the other side of the door.

You nervously stood outside Peter's room, you noticed how he had been acting weird and paranoid the whole trip, and you were honestly concerned about his wellbeing. Not to mention, you haven't spent much time together and you were starting to miss him.

"Oh ... hi Y/n" Peter nervously greeted you, trying to act casual by leaning on the side of the door. "What brings you here?" He curiously asked, as he was genuinely not expecting you out of all people to look for him.

"I ... can I come in?" You slowly asked, preparing yourself to hear the rejection from him, when his eyes widened in what seemed to be ... excitement?

"Yeah s-sure" He immediately agreed, clearing his throat when he realized he sounded way too eager. "Just uhm, wait a second" He said before closing the door.

You were taken aback by the sudden move, unbeknownst to Peter behind the door webbing the suit and quickly hiding it behind the room's closet. He also webbed the box with the necklace and hid it in one of the drawers.

He opened the door again and moved to the side to let you in, and you took a deep breath as you walked inside his room. You awkwardly stood in front of each other after he softly closed the door behind him.

"I just ... I wanted to know if you were okay" You started, not being able to look into his eyes so you decided to look at your fidgeting hands instead. "You seem pretty stressed lately, and I wanted to remind you that I'm here if you need to talk to someone"

Peter was surprised again, never in a million years he would've thought you, his Y/n, would actually care so much about him. But of course you did, you had been in love with the boy ever since he came back from the blip.

Your sweet worried voice managed to calm him down a bit, but he took a deep breath as he couldn't exactly confess to you why he was stressed.

"Well I ... I just got mad because we didn't get to visit the Eiffel Tower" He shrugged his shoulders not exactly lying, as that was one of the reasons he was acting like that.

"Oh" You replied, sighing when you realized he wasn't telling you the whole story.

I mean what were you thinking? That he was going to open up to you just like that? You looked to the floor disappointed, realizing it was a bad idea coming to his room.

"Actually no, that's not the exact reason" He abruptly said when he noticed your sad expression.

Screw his plan.

"The thing is I like you, I like you so much it literally hurts right now because I can't do anything about it" Peter began ranting, pacing back and forth again, unable to meet your eyes while he confessed his feelings. "And I had this plan, this ... this stupid plan to take you to the Eiffel Tower to confess my feelings for you. But things didn't work out like I wanted them and know you're getting closer to Brad and I'll have no chance with you, I never really did, because look at him and then look at me! And to think I hoped you to like me back and then kiss you–"

"Peter stop!" You yelled to interrupt him, he finally stopped in his tracks looking wide-eyed at you.

He suddenly realized all of the things he said to you and covered his mouth regretting everything, but before he could say anything you walked closer to him until you were a few inches apart.

"Peter of course you're not like Brad, you're so different from him" You softly began, he just took a deep breath and looked to the floor with his head hanging low. "But that's why I like you too" You admitted as he quickly raised his head and met your eyes.

"You ... you do?" He couldn't contain the big smile growing in his face when he asked, to which you smiled back nodding.

"So why don't you kiss me now, that you know I feel the same way" You whispered leaning closer to his lips, moving your hands to meet his and intertwine your fingers.

Peter's eyes were literally shining, and his heart started beating faster for having you so close to him. He started leaning in too, so you closed your eyes yearning the feeling of his lips on top of yours, when he suddenly yanked his body back and your hands fell back to your side.

You frowned as you opened your eyes, noticing how he turned his back to you, inhaling deeply.

"Peter?" You gently called to him, resting a hand on his shoulders, but not even a second passed when he abruptly turned around, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Ihaveneverkissedanyonebefore" He hurriedly said, but you didn't understand a word. Peter noticed your confusion, and he took a deep breath before speaking again. "I have never kissed anyone before, like ever so I ... I don't know what to do" He embarrassingly confessed, blushing immediately.

You brought a hand to your mouth to cover a laugh that escaped your lips, and Peter just blushed even more.

"God, I shouldn't have said anything" Peter sighed, covering his face with both hands in regret. You softly laughed once more before gently uncovering his red face.

"Peter do you seriously think I care about that?" You playfully asked.

"But you laughed!" He whined, and you couldn't help but laugh once again. "See! you think it's ridiculous"

"I laughed because you're so adorable" You admitted and he hung his head back, sighing. "Peter it's not ridiculous, and if you care about it that much I can teach you" You offered shrugging your shoulders.

Peter looked back at you with different emotions on his face. Confusion ... excitement ... eagerness?

"Wouldn't that be ... weird?" He innocently asked.

"I don't know, you tell me" You lowered your tone as you walked closer to him, until you were just inches apart from his lips for the second time of the night. "I will forget about it if you don't want to" You whispered looking straight into his eyes.

"No! I mean y-yes I want to, please teach me" He nervously agreed, continuously nodding his head.

Alright, Peter Parker was definitely the most adorable human being on earth.

"Okay, but first you need to relax" You said, walking behind him and placing your hands on his shoulders to gently massage them. "You're so tense Pete"

"Uhum" He could only mumble closing his eyes, your hands were doing magic on his tense body.

He was enjoying it to much that he almost complained when your hands left his shoulders, he opened his eyes to find you in front of him again.

"Now you can place your hands here" You instructed, guiding his hands with yours to rest on your waist. "And I will place mine here" You lifted one your arms to the back of his head and began playing gently with his messy hair, while you laid the other hand flat on his face to caress his cheek. "Is this okay?" You asked, making sure he was comfortable with it.

Peter only nodded, he was too intoxicated with your sweet scent and excited by your actions that he was afraid if he spoke a single word his voice would be way too high pitched.

"I think we can start with a few soft pecks and work our way from there" You began, looking straight into his wide eyes.

Let's not deceive ourselves here, even though you were the one leading the way here, that didn't take your nervousness away. I mean, you were teaching your crush how to kiss, the closeness to his body was making your knees weak.

"So we just close our eyes" You instructed, smiling when Peter eagerly shut his eyes. "And I'll lean closer and closer until we meet our lips" You whispered doing as you said.

You softly landed your lips on his, lightly pecking them before retrieving back, when Peter leaned forward to peck your lips again, surprising you with his sudden move.

"I'm s-sorry, I wanted to try it again" Peter excused himself blushing.

"You don't need to apologize Pete, you can do it as many times you wan–" Peter interrupted kissing you again, and you laughed at his eagerness.

"God, I-like-you-so-much" Peter admitted admitted between light pecks, and you blushed this time.

"I like you too Peter, and I think we can move on to the next step so you can kiss me properly" You smirked and he nodded, now confidently tightening the grip on your waist.

"So now we're going to interlock our lips" You said, leaning your head a little to one side, and gently pushing Peter's to the other. "You're just gonna lightly part your lips, and I'll grab your bottom lip like this" You explained before crashing your lips on Peter's once again, this time locking your lips together.

You decided that instead of telling him what to do you would show him, so you began slowly moving your lips, to which Peter involuntarily moaned into the kiss, making you gently pull a strand of his hair. Peter followed your lead and began moving his lips too, almost immediately synchronizing with you.

It wasn't the most experienced kiss, your noses crashing a few times making you laugh into the kiss, but for someone who hadn't kiss anyone before, Peter was actually good at it. So yes, it was not the most experienced kiss, but it was perfect for you.

Peter honestly didn't know if he was doing it right but his lips kept moving along with yours, as if they somehow belonged together. He was enjoying it more than he thought he would that he never wanted to leave your lips, but his lungs begged for oxygen and he was forced to separate from you.

"I ... wow" You mumbled recovering your breath. "That was amazing Peter" You admitted looking admiringly at him.

"To be honest I was winging it the whole time" His nervous laugh was followed by yours.

"No but seriously, whatever you did do it again" You confidently ordered, and he immediately complied.

Your mouths crashed back together, and he seemed to be more confident now, leaving the grip on your waist to grab your face and deepen the kiss. You smirked and decided to play with him, slipping your tongue in the kiss. Peter was taken a back by the action, way to delighted by the way your tongue played with his.

You were driving him crazy.

In that moment Peter forgot about all of his problems and responsibilities and decided to focus only on you, because even though his plan failed, this outcome was so much better. You got lost into the kiss as well, and you began walking forward until Peter's legs hit the bed. He automatically sat down grabbing you by the waist, never separating from the kiss, this way you ended up sitting on his lap.

Your desperate hands stopped playing with his hair, as you brought them to his torso and slipped them under his shirt, feeling his surprisingly hard abdomen. You decided to break the kiss, to which he winced already missing your lips, but suddenly realized you had other plans for them.

He couldn't help the moan that escaped his lips when you focused on trailing wet kisses down his neck, his arms' hairs flying up from the unfamiliar pleasure.

"Umm yes Y/n, don't stop" The boy helplessly begged, and you smirked lightly nibbling his skin.

"I can - teach you - how to kiss - my neck too" You breathlessly said in between kisses, imitating his action from before. "You just ... do this" You began kissing his neck more intensely, sucking on his skin this time, making sure to leave some lovely marks.

"Fuck Y/n" Peter couldn't help but groan every time your lips touched his skin, a new side of him was awaken, as he felt his pants tighten around his crotch.

You separated from him a little and hung your head backwards to give him access to your neck, to which he immediately began leaving kisses on it. He ran his hands through your back as he worked his way on you, and boy he was doing a great job.

"That feels so good Peter, oh–" You moaned when he sucked right on your sweet spot, his ears delighted by the beautiful sounds you made.

You both continued making out, switching from neck kisses to french kisses, moaning into each other's mouths as you gave in your love.

When you woke up this morning you never thought you would be straddling your crush's lap in his hotel room, and to be honest you didn't even know how you ended up in this position, but you were so grateful.

Your thoughts and making out session were interrupted by a knock on the door, and Mr.Harrington's voice came from behind it.

"Peter, we're leaving to the opera now let's go!" He cheerfully announced, unbeknownst to the situation on the other side of the door.

"Yeah I ... I'll be right outside in a minute" Peter replied, trying to make his out of breath voice sound clear.

"Okay, we'll meet in the lobby" The teacher said before finally leaving.

You both stared at each other with wide eyes and blushed cheeks, realizing how everything had escalated so quickly. You cleared your throat as you got up from his lap, and stood awkwardly in front of him. Peter cleared his throat too, running a hand through his hair attempting to tame it, an inhaled deeply before speaking.

"That was ... really good" He admitted and you both smiled. "But I ... I think we should have a date now, right?"

"Are you inviting me on a date Parker?" You innocently asked biting your lip.

"Yeah, let's go on a date" He confidently said and you nodded, walking towards him to softly peck his lips.

"Alright, see you at the lobby then" You winked at him and turned around to leave the room.

Once you closed the door and were out of his vision range, you let out a silent squeal of happiness, this had been the best thing that happened on the trip so far. You happily made your way towards your room to get a better outfit to have your date with Peter, one that included a scarf to cover your fresh hickies.

Peter stood for a moment in the middle of his room, astonished by what just happened, replaying the scene over and over again in his head. Peter had planned to have his first kiss with you, not a full on make out session, so now he couldn't shake the stupid smile from his face.

He suddenly remembered the whole fire elemental situation and mentally slapped himself, he was not going to be able to have his date with you now. He sighed deeply as he got the suit out the closet, where he had previously thrown it before you came in.

He stared at the black suit in his hands, he had previously tried it on and it was already a little tight around his ol' web-shooter, and now after that hot make out session with you, it'll definitely be way too tight around it.

10K notes · View notes

alwaysfeelingsaintlike · 3 years

Text

Driving Me Mad [G.W] - Part 3

Series Description: You and George come up with a plan to pretend to date each other. But what happens when you actually start to catch feelings...

Pairing: George Weasley x Gryffindor fem!reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Part 1

Part 2

Description: George joins you for breakfast and dazzles all of your friends. X

Breakfast was awful. At this point, everyone knew about your split with Roger. And it seemed like everyone was studying you to see how you were handling it, but you wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. You had breakfast with Cho and Marietta at the Ravenclaw table and they were doing their best to comfort you, which wasn’t very effective. They made meaningless conversation at breakfast while you sat there and nibbled on your toast.

You caught George’s eye across the hall and he gave you one of his infamous grins. You shook your head and smiled at the prospect of this scheme actually working. In all honesty, you were more excited to shock people than anything. It was kind of exciting to know that soon enough you would be the latest gossip of Hogwarts, topping Roger and Fleur. You made eye contact with George again and he tilted his head up in a head nod, signaling you should come over. You quickly excused yourself from your friends without many words and walked over to where George was sitting with Fred and Lee.

“Morning boys,” you said sitting down across from George.

“Hey Y/N,” George smiled at you. Fred and Lee exchanged quick confused looks before greeting you. You sipped on your cup of tea as they continued eating.

“Okay, I’m going to say it. Is there a reason you’re here?” Lee asked.

“Not that we don’t love your company. It’s just…different,” Fred added.

“I don’t really know. I just needed a change of scenery from my usual crowd and I haven’t hung out with you guys in a while. Plus George and I bonded during our detention so I figured I’d say hi.”

“Ah, makes sense.”

“How’s the break up going?” Lee asked.

“Ugh, what a headache. I feel like I can’t go anywhere without people whispering about me. It doesn’t help that he’s prancing around with the perfect Fleur Delacour all the time. Very classy on his part.”

“Sorry to hear that,” George said.

“It’s fine, I can handle it. But how’ve you all been? Still getting into trouble?”

“Did you really just ask that?” Fred countered.

“Cut me some slack, okay! I’m trying to be personable. We haven’t talked or hung out in a while so I’m taking things slow.”

“Y/N, I’ve known you for 15 years and you’ve never been one to take anything slow,” Fred pointed out.

“Should I just skip to the personal questions then?” you joked. They all lightly chuckled and you were happy you could make the jokers laugh. You glanced at the clock and noticed it was time to finish up breakfast. You had just about finished your grapefruit and you saw George was finished while Fred and Lee still had some food on their plate.

“You finished?” you asked George. He glanced down at his plate and nodded. “Want to walk me to class?” you smiled and gave him a wink. This was the first step to reaching your end goal.

“Uh, sure.” His acting skills were perfect.

“What about us mate? Just gonna leave us here?” Lee said.

“Sorry boys. If you’re lucky one of you can escort me tomorrow,” you said with a wink..

“Tomorrow? You’re coming back tomorrow?”

“Play your cards right and I might be here all week.” You stood up from the table and walked away as George did the same on the opposite side of the table.

“God, that was brilliant,” George said as you met at the end of the table.

“Yeah? Like things never changed?”

“Exactly like that. You’re one of the few people who can dish it back to Fred.”

“What can I say, I’ve basically been doing it my whole life.”

“It’s a good thing you fit in with them so easily. I imagine you’ll be spending a lot more time with Fred and Lee over the next few weeks.”

“Yeah, you’re right. But you’ll be spending some time with my friends too. I’ll try to keep it to the minimum since I know they can be a lot to handle, but we do need to make this believable.”

“So when do I get the big introduction?”

“Soon enough. Let’s just take things a day at a time.”

“Alright mate, spill it,” Fred said to George, as he turned in for bed. They were just out in the common room, casually chatting with you as you attempted to get some homework done. Fred had left shortly after but George stayed and spent more time with you. Part of it was for this whole show you were putting on but he also genuinely liked spending time with you. It had been such a long time since you acted like friends and he forgot how great that felt.

“What are you talking about?”

“Bloody hell, how dim do you think I am,” he said, hitting George’s arm with an outdated Daily Prophet that was rolled up. George merely shrugged and Fred added, “Since when do you hang out with Y/N?”

“Dunno…we sort of just reconnected recently. We spent hours together polishing trophies. It just gave us an opportunity to catch up.”

“George, don’t go down that road.”

“What?” he said, nonchalantly.

“It’s no secret that you’ve had a crush on her forever. And now she’s single and she’s suddenly taken an interest in you. If you even entertain this possibility, she’ll break your heart and I can’t let that happen to you. She’s bad news mate.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“She’s just looking for a rebound after Davies left her. You are a good person and you deserve better than that.”

“Fred, she’s been our friend for 15 years. If something was going to happen between us, it would’ve happened by now. But I’m not going to stop spending time with her.”

“Whatever you say. But just remember I told you so.” He jumped into his bed and turned off the light to get some sleep.

His doubt hurt. It hurt George that he didn’t see the good in you. And George didn’t appreciate the attack. Fred was so quick to assume he would fall under your spell that he couldn’t even entertain the fact that George might just want to be friends with you. It made him nervous for how Fred would react once you started “dating.” He thought about telling Fred about the plan but he didn’t think his reaction would be much better. It was hard to lie to him but you were adamant about keeping everything a secret. He would just have to wait until everything was said and done.

George tucked himself in bed and tried to sleep, without much success. He had so many different thoughts whizzing around his head. He felt like things with you were good but Fred’s comments made him nervous. It’s not that it created doubt in his mind because he trusted you, but it gave him some more to think about. Fred was right in that he’s always had a crush on you. It was a passive crush, but present nonetheless. He liked spending time with you and that was all that mattered.

“Hey you! Heading to breakfast?” you caught George just as he was leaving the common room.

“That is the plan.”

“Wanna eat with me and my friends today? No pressure if you don’t want to, just thought I’d throw the offer out there.”

“Uh, maybe…” he answered vaguely.

“Hey, no need to let me down easy. I can handle a declined offer.”

“Maybe isn’t no.”

“I mean, it sort of is. But seriously, it’s cool. We’ll catch up later.” You parted ways as you found a seat at the Ravenclaw table. Instead of facing the Gryffindor table like you usually did, you sat on the other side of the table today. You didn’t need to see George planning pranks with Fred and Lee. You were fine with him sitting with them, but you knew if you watched them you would become distracted, thinking about how exactly you would pull this scheme off.

Cho and Marietta greeted you and you all chatted casually. Soon Cormac, Blaise and Cedric joined the table and the girl talk ended abruptly.

“So Y/N, how’s the break up treating you?” Cedric piped up. The entire group turned to catch a peek at Roger and the flawless Fleur, cuddling up over breakfast, whispering sweet nothings.

“Eh, obviously not ideal but I’ll be fine soon enough. I just wish they’d be a little more discreet about it.”

“I’m sure it’s not intentional. Fleur doesn’t seem to do anything discreet,” Cedric said.

“I’m just surprised you haven’t found a new boyfriend yet,” Cormac commented.

“Careful mate. You may have spoken too soon,” Blaise said with a head nod in your direction. Everyone turned towards you and you followed their gazes, looking down the hall. A tall ginger made his way toward the table and gave you a playful smirk.

“Is this seat taken?” he said to you. You gave him a smile and replied, “It’s all yours.”

You turned back to the group to see delightfully surprised faces. As their conversations continued, you felt him lean close in and say, “See, maybe doesn’t always mean no…”

You hadn’t really thought that much about how George would assimilate into your group of friends, but it turned out you didn’t have to. It was effortless. He was cracking jokes and making fun of the guys while impressing the girls with his charming nature. You had to say it was quite impressive. Soon the table dissolved as everyone gathered their things for class. George received a few pats on the back as the guys left and some smiles from the girls. Soon you two were left on your own and you were speechless.

“What just happened?” you managed to spit out.

“What d’you mean?”

“You just came over here and charmed all of them into loving you all while I didn’t have to lift a finger.”

“Didn’t think I could socialize, eh? Planning to hold my hand and guide me through the first introductions?”

“I…I just didn’t expect that. Is that why you didn’t give me a straight answer? You wanted to come over here and surprise me?”

“Truthfully I hadn’t planned on doing that. I sat down with Fred and Lee this morning and it was just like every other morning. And I wanted a change, so I came to eat with you and your friends.”

“What did you think of them?”

“They aren’t as bad as I expected. In fact they’re rather entertaining.”

“Well I think they loved you. Now I just have to work on getting in with Fred and Lee.”

“Fred and Lee like you!” he spoke, perhaps too quickly.

“You know, you really aren’t a good liar.”

George went to defend the accusation when you interrupted him, “I’m not dim. I know that I’m gonna have to work a little harder to charm the two of them. I’ve been out of the picture for so long it’s going to take time. But, I’ve known them forever so I hope they’ll warm up to me.”

“We’ll work on it. I’ll try and talk to Fred. I think things would really be easier if I could just tell him.”

“I know that you don’t want to keep secrets from him but I think telling him is too risky. I want things to appear natural and in a way, I think Fred’s feelings towards me helps our case a little bit.”

“Yeah, I understand. Whatever you think is best.”

“Regardless, good work today. Let’s go to class.”

#george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #weasley twins fanfic #george weasley fanfic #hp fanfic

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eldritchamy · 3 years

Text

I watched “Happiest Season” and no it fucking wasn’t.

Here’s a review so you don’t have to suffer like I did: if I wasn’t watching it as the host of a movie night, I would not have made it past 20-30 minutes in.

It was very uncomfortable to watch. I feel like I just spent two hours on a plane with a crying baby. Except the baby was a homophobic rich white Republican that I was forced to campaign for. All of the people I watched it with, including myself, found it stressful, anxiety inducing, and deeply unpleasant. The first thing I did when it was over was warn my best friend not to watch it.

90% of the movie is rich white straight people drama forcing lesbians into the closet. It’s not fun. It’s not happy. It wasn’t enjoyable. At all. Watching this was an uncompromisingly depressing and miserable experience.

It was marketed as a romantic comedy and it was neither of those things. I feel repressed for having seen it.

Every relationship in this movie is toxic and hard to watch, with the sole exception of two other characters who aren’t part of the family both having much better chemistry with Kristen Stewart’s character than her girlfriend.

Aubrey Plaza playing Gay Aubrey Plaza one of two redeeming things in the movie and she’s in it for about ten minutes, and even one of her scenes was hard for me to sit through (the awkward and dubiously written drag bar scene) The other 90 minutes are agonizingly drawn out and unbearable.

If you are determined to support this movie because god knows we need more (and MUCH better) representation and we live in a hellscape where money is the only way to ask for such things, press play on it and then take out your headphones and go read a book instead until it’s over.

For your own sake please do not watch this.

I genuinely can’t tell who it’s even FOR. If anything about this movie resonates with you, I am SORRY to hear that, because you are probably the lesbian daughter of a very rich white man running for office as a Republican, and watching any of the rich housewife reality shows probably gives you PTSD because those are the kind of people you grew up with.

And even IF that is the case, spare yourself the trauma of watching your own life and watch something else instead. This movie will only hurt you.

Nothing about the experience of seeing this was worth it.

Plot spoilers ahead.

The plot is as follows:

Abby (Kristen Stewart) loves her girlfriend Harper (Mackenzie Davis). But she does not love Christmas. After a night out together, Harper asks her to join her when she visits her family for the holidays. Abby says yes, and gets her gay male friend John (that guy from Schitt’s Creek) to cover pet sitting for her. While running a few errands with him, she goes to pick up an engagement ring which looks completely unattainable for a woman who makes a living as a pet sitter.

When they are almost to Harper’s family’s home, she awkwardly brings up that she lied about coming out to them earlier in the year. They still don’t know she’s gay and they have to make sure the family is perfect and scandal free because her dad is running for mayor or something and one of his donors? campaign manager? is going to be there. So they have to pretend Abby is her straight roommmate. They fight about it before Abby very reluctantly agrees. This is a pattern that repeats until Abby can’t take any more.

The family is like upper-class-Republican terrible. They are AWFUL people. The parents treat their children like trophies in a display case, and the children all feel forced into brutal competition with each other to see who the parents will actually be proud of. One of Harper’s sisters (Jane) is actually an okay person who does nothing wrong, but she’s an aspiring writer who has spent 10 years not finishing her book and she’s played like she belongs in a different movie, and it feels like she’s meant to be seen as the useless layabout sibling, in a cruelly funny way.

The other sister is a nightmare of a woman (Sloane? I think?) played by a completely unrecognizable Allison Brie. She’s a lawful evil cutthroat monster who is straight up VICIOUS to the other two, and is especially terrible to Harper, because neither of them even see Jane as competition. Her own family is the thing she uses to try to be worthy of her parents’ pride and affection.

The dad is focused entirely on his campaign and is more or less indifferent to all of them unless they aren’t “presentable” and “scandal free” enough to keep his potential donor/campaign manager satisfied, in which case he “expects better of them” until they behave. The children are like 30.

The mom is maybe the worst of all of them. She’s invasive, ignorant in that forceful way where she doesn’t give a shit about anything except her own bubble of reality that she thinks she’s living in and blows past any contradiction to it like it’s not even there, nitpicky about what everyone’s doing, is willfully out of touch with everything she’s told (Abby’s parents died when she was 19, and she spends the movie acting like she thinks Abby grew up in an orphanage made of dirt and never had a Christmas before). And she will not leave the two of them alone. She insists it’s ridiculous for two grown women to share a bedroom and gives Abby a room without a lock in a basement that’s bigger than my whole house, while Harper’s room is upstairs. Everyone is constantly barging into Abby’s room with less than two seconds of notice, which leads to the kind of tension and awkwardness you’d expect. The first morning, Abby wakes up to Sloane’s children staring at her.

Abby is clearly MISERABLE. And so are you, because you’re watching this movie. Abby and Harper are constantly pushed apart by the family, and Harper pushes Abby away while pretending to be perfect and straight for her family.

Her family invited Harper’s ex boyfriend, who thinks they should rekindle things. Super fun thing that I always love to see in my lesbian media.

While out at dinner, Abby and Harper have another mini fight in the bathroom. Harper promises she had no idea Connor(?) was going to be there and that there won’t be any more surprises. They walk out of the bathroom, right into Harper’s OTHER ex, her first girlfriend Riley (Aubrey Plaza, who literally just plays herself and is the only good thing about the movie).

This is the first 20 minutes.

There’s a party that leaves Abby feeling isolated and pushed away. She goes outside to make a phone call. She makes regular texts and phone calls to John for support and advice throughout the movie. He’s terrible at taking care of fish, but he’s genuinely a good friend to her and it’s clear he cares about her a lot. It’s probably unfair not to say his friendship is the second redeeming thing in the movie. After Abby gets off the phone with him the first time, Riley comes out from around the corner and tries to be nice, saying she could relate to what she’s going through. Abby kind of closes off from her and she takes the hint without any fuss and leaves her alone.

The movie slogs on with compounding stress and anxiety and a moment when Abby is LITERALLY forced to hide in a closet and pretend she was sleepwalking on her way to Harper’s bedroom at night. It MIGHT have been an attempt at a joke? I’m genuinely not sure because I did not come close to laughing once in the entire 100 minutes of this nightmare. Harper instead sneaks into Abby’s room while she’s awkwardly trying to get away from Harper’s mom. That’s where the gifs of the sneak-snuggle from behind the door come from. Enjoy the gifs because everything that wasn’t giffed is not worth seeing. Harper spends the night there.

Bright and early, Harper’s mom comes knocking on the door, trying to open it and barge in again but Abby blocked the door with something heavy claiming it was to “keep her from sleepwalking again” (her excuse for being in the closet) while Harper frantically gets almost-dressed and hides behind the door as BOTH parents come to bother them, and the evil sister’s children see her partially dressed through the crack in the door.

Later that day Abby has to go shopping for a present for the “White Elephant” Harper didn’t warn her about. She bumps into Sloane at the mall, who dumps her kids off on her before quickly leaving. The kids very intentionally frame Abby for shoplifting by putting a necklace in her bag, and there’s a really awkward and uncomfortable scene with her being interrogated by overly forceful mall cops who are yelling at her. When she finally gets back to the house, Harper’s entire family now thinks she’s a criminal.

Abby spends the night alone during another (campaign?) party that Harper told her she’d probably be happier getting left out of, and she bumps into Riley on the street and gets to talking with her, still more frustrated by Harper and her family. She says she needs some alcohol, Riley takes her to a drag bar which gave me really bad vibes and bonds with her there, telling her a bit about her relationship with Harper. They dated secretly (obviously) in their first year of high school (which implies she knew she was gay before she dated Connor, and used him as a cover). They would sneak each other romantic notes. When someone found one in Harper’s locker, she threw Riley under the bus completely, outed her, and said she was obsessed with her so she could go on pretending to be straight. They bond a bit and seem like they could be friends, at a minimum. They have a few more scenes together over the next hour (yeah there’s still that much movie left, and if you’re wondering how it could be that bad, you’re welcome for the warning, because I was wondering that too) and they have better chemistry than Abby and Harper by miles.

Eventually Abby becomes so miserable she checks the movie-specific version of Uber to try to go home by herself, but it’s running at holiday rates so it would cost over $1000 for her to leave. She’s still tempted to do it, and calls John again for advice and says she feels awful, completely alone, and with no way out of this horrible situation. He gives her some more friendly support.

Abby still needs a White Elephant gift, but has no way to go by herself because Harper drove them there. So she calls Riley to go with her. They spend a day hanging out together while Harper is doing some other thing with her dad’s campaign, and Abby makes text excuses to Harper, who then immediately sees Riley and Abby walking by on the street together. Before she gets a chance to run out and say something, she gets interrupted by something I thankfully don’t remember (I long for the moment this is true of the rest of it).

Riley and Abby bond some more but nothing romantic happens. The plot only wants them to be good friends, even though their chemistry is really good.

At the end of the day Abby comes in and Harper immediately almost starts a fight with her but they get interrupted again somehow.

I have willed most of the next 20 minutes out of my mind, apparently.

There’s yet another party at this gigantic house because I hate the rich, Abby and Riley talk more. This is the one with the really gay outfit. Abby admits to Riley that she was planning on proposing to Harper, but at this point it’s like she’s a completely different person and she can’t tell who the real Harper is. Riley says it’s probably both of them.

SURPRISE JOHN IS HERE. He comes in the front door and calls for Abby. After Abby’s last phone call he arranged for his therapist to do the pet sitting and he drove all the way here just so he could take her home. Seriously, John has incredible Good Friend Energy. Yet more awkwardness ensues, while John mixes some awkward flirting with Connor into his poor attempt to come off as straight. Abby then walks right up to Harper, says “we’re done” and goes to grab some things to leave. Harper follows her into the room and tries to get her to stay, Abby says she can’t take the hiding and the general misery, the whole experience has been terrible and she’s not sure if Harper is the person she thought she was. Harper argues for her to stay and says she’s caught between being afraid of losing her family if she comes out and knowing she’ll lose Abby if she doesn’t. She promises to come out to them as soon as the holidays are over because Abby is more important to her. They kiss briefly and realize Sloane is in the doorway.

Sloane tries to run to tell the rest of the family because burning Harper’s reputation forever means she’ll be the one their parents love most. They fight in the many hallways of this stupidly enormous rich people house (this is when “Stay out of it, Sappho” happens) and on the way to ruin her sister’s life Sloane finds her husband making out with another ....campaign person? in the pantry and or closet which is big enough to fit two people inside. Now Harper has something to use against Sloane. This family is fucking horrible. Sloane gets to where everyone else is first, and outs Harper.

Harper tries to swear she’s not gay, and sees Abby watching her. She silently turns and walks out the door with John. Harper then grabs a giant painting that Jane spent 100 hours on for the white elephant and smashes it over Sloane’s head and yells at her before falling apart.

Abby and John have another heartfelt conversation where John asks how she came out to her parents, and she said they loved and supported her. Then he said his dad kicked him out on the street and didn’t talk to him for thirteen years. He says everyone’s story is different, and Harper was still going through hers, and it was a hard one. I THINK he acknowledges that if Abby doesn’t feel like she belongs in that story, she shouldn’t force herself to? But that might have been wishful hindsight. Abby comes back into the house to grab her things and leave, Harper comes out to her family right in front of her, Abby says it was too late and leaves anyway. Harper is crushed and the rest of the family starts to see how fucked up they all are.

And then in the span of 7 fucking minutes the parents realize they were shitty to Sloane and Harper and the only reason Jane turned out okay is because they gave up on her, they give a minimal apology to their children, who also realize they were shitty to each other, and then it’s the next day and Abby is there with them, Harper has the ring on her finger, and everyone is magically happy now because the dad turned down his campaign advisor who said she could still work with him if he kept Harper’s “problem” a secret.

Jane’s book becomes a best seller and she’s friends with John now, because he was the only person who seemed genuinely interested in her passion. He sits next to her at her book signing. The end.

No, I’m not kidding.

As soon as it was over, I thought, wow that felt like a rushed happy ending that got slapped onto the end with nothing building up to or deserving it.

After further consideration, that gives it too much credit.

Because honestly? after the first hour and thirty five minutes of this hell, Abby and Harper being together at the end is not even something I would consider a happy ending. I wasn’t satisfied at all. It DEFINITELY felt like Abby ending up with Riley would have been a better movie.

If I had been told beforehand that a lesbian romcom starring Kristen Stewart and Mackenzie Davis, and featuring Aubrey Plaza as Gay Aubrey Plaza would have been an absolutely miserable experience that was hard to sit through and nothing but unpleasant to watch, I would probably have been shocked and disappointed.

But at least I would have not seen this movie. That is my gift to you. Please do NOT watch this.

It was marketed as a romantic comedy and it lived up to neither of those claims. Absolutely terrible movie. The happiest season of all is one where you don’t watch this stressful, uncomfortable disaster.

#eldritchreviews

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op-sheepy · 3 years

Note

6. dark law, 19. Davy Back, 36. the whimsical captain trafalgar law, 55. marine pet AU!

Oh, good eye. Those are some of my favorites.. Here is another long one under the cut. Also sorry for the late response. :D

---------------------------------o

6. Dark Law

Essentially my take (one of them at least) on what would have happened had Corazon not taken Law from the Donquixote pirates but left anyway when he thought Law had ratted him out.

Some details regarding this:

Rocinante returns to the marines and was able to submit the intelligence he'd gathered. This doesn't do much except inconvenience Doflamingo, as already acknowledged during Law and Doffy's fight.

Vergo gets discovered so he just goes back to the family.

Law does not eat the Ope Ope no mi since Doflamingo never intended for him to. At least, initially.

Because, I'm assuming, not everyone can perform the "Perennial Youth Operation," as it was stated they needed to be 'wise' or 'knowledgeable' and being a doctor does not really automatically equal that, Doflamingo had to kill the users he had chosen when none of them could do it so the fruit could go back to the circulation and he could feed it to the next potentially qualified person he could find.

Law's Amber Lead Syndrome got healed by one of these users though it was only because Law, himself, taught them how to (being familiar with the disease through his father's research as well being a good doctor)

Eventually, everyone realizes that Law is actually the most suited to wield the fruit (all the other smart doctors either having a fruit already or are simply inaccessible), certain that Law would be able to figure out how to do the ultimate technique. So, reluctantly, because he does care in his twisted conditional way, Doflamingo gives the Ope Ope no Mi to Law.

Law at this point had been raised as Doffy's right hand, all according to his plan. While he truly considers Law family and might genuinely regret making him give up his life, Doffy would still ask it from him because there is nothing more important than Doflamingo and his goals. A sentiment that almost everyone in his family considers true.

And Law... well...

Doflamingo rested both hands on Law's shoulders. His tinted glasses peering down, voice heavy with regret, "I wish there was another way."

Law's face remained impassive only broken by a small wistful twitch of his lips. It almost looked like a smile. He grasped Doflamingo's arm and directed him towards the operating table.

"You have taught me many lessons one of which was the futility of wishing for better circumstances." Law seated him and prepared his equipment.

"You taught me to take advantage of any situation by using whatever it is at my disposal." Carefully, he opened a package of sterile gloves. It wasn't really needed but the ritual of opening the pack and putting the gloves on one hand at a time always helped settle his nerves.

"I had expected you to do the same so I'd been prepared for this even before you gave me the fruit." Law lifted his eyes as he slid the first glove in place. "Don't feel too bad. I really am grateful for everything you've done for me. This is just me returning the favor."

He slid the other glove and stretched it over his hand. Softly, almost a whisper, without taking his eyes off his would-be patient, "I wish there was another way too." The snap that followed the release of the glove was too loud in the small operating room.

---------------------------------o

19. Davy Back

Early Heart Pirates stuff. And another workaround for writing with at least one of the nameless Heart Pirates.

A Davy Back Fight is initiated for an abused crew member of the opposing crew because Penguin couldn't help himself. The rules are a work in progress, hence this fic's state in limbo.

I really like writing about how these guys were when starting out. They probably looked too adorable, to be honest, so in the harsh North Blue they must have had a hard time getting treated seriously. Not that that would have bothered them (I honestly think they exploited it a lot.)

The enemy captain stared intently at each Heart Pirate then at the list of members given to him. The man didn't bother controlling the upward curl of his mouth.

"No powers. No weapons. Sumo wrestling with your navigator and hand-to-hand combat with your doctor."

Shachi choked and struggled a little bit to get his breathing back to normal. He waved away Penguin's hands patting his back. The pats were a little too harsh, clearly an admonishment if the accompanying glare was anything to go by.

Penguin almost felt sorry for whoever it was being matched against Law. Bepo, while just as incensed by the other crew, was way too conscious of controlling his strength to ever really hurt anyone too badly. The captain, on the other hand, could turn someone into a useless writhing lump of agony by systematically dislocating joints Penguin hadn't even known could be dislocated. Gruesome as severed body parts looked, the powers could at least make it painless.

---------------------------------o

36. The Whimsical Captain Trafalgar Law

More Heart Pirates stuff though would feature some of the allied crews as well. This is actually a series/multi-chaptered (or would be).

A Heart Pirates adventure fic where they all go along with their captain's whims all while trying to figure him out. His crew is so used to it they barely even flinch anymore.

Not to say they understand him because who knows what goes inside their captain's head. In fact, they debate that sometimes (a lot of times) the crew being divided among those who think Law has got a plan and those who think he's winging it (often switching really).

"You can't possibly tell me there's some sort of plan behind this."

More than half of the crew looked a bit skeptical, the rest looked defensive.

Clione held up his hands. "Hey, I'm not complaining. I'll follow the captain wherever same as you. But you gotta admit that there isn't always a method to his madness. He really does do things on a whim."

"I disagree. The captain's just saying that but he knows what he's doing. Pretty sure there's a reason behind all his actions..." Protests started, so Penguin amended, "...that isn't just him being a bastard on purpose because he hates someone. Which is a pretty valid reason since we are pirates."

"How about that time we raided the flour factory?" Ikkaku asked.

Penguin's reply came immediately. "Discreet incendiary." A beat. "...also he hates bread."

Before they could celebrate, Shachi interrupted, "His dislike of bread counts as a reason and since it's incidental it doesn't count as a whim."

With narrowed eyes, Clione tried again. "The monastery? Dressing up as monks."

"Medicinal plant in the courtyard bred by this one priest."

"Marineford?"

"Allowed us to get intel and allies."

"And the emergency operations without anesthesia?"

"Possible drug interaction. Emporio Ivankov and their hormone powers."

So continued their back and forth. By the end of it, Penguin and Shachi looked way too smug. Truthfully, they both agreed Law was more impulsive than he let on, often unaware of it himself. But they knew the man they chose to follow always had a plan and purpose (though not necessarily present at the start, but semantics)

---------------------------------o

55. Marine Pet AU

Haha... Another one of those difficult to explain ones. Starring the Marines (particularly the original three admirals and Sengoku), and the Shichibukai.

Uhm... So everything's the same except the Shichibukai aren't pirates. They're animals. That's it.

It starts with a wayward flamingo wearing eyewear harassing officers near one of their HQs. Also the Marines need to improve their public image. For some reason, the best they came up with is to get a mascot. Hitting two birds with one stone. (Except they can't really hit the bird. They tried)

So the Marines build a zoo or a habitat. Here are the only types of pirates the World Government can tolerate. Aren't they cute and fluffy?

The public eat it all up. It's popular so now they have to commit. And really, these animals become so important their safety and wellbeing become the higher-ups' problem.

Kizaru is having fun. Aokiji is resigned. Akainu tries (he doesn't quite know what but he'll do what's best for the Marines even if that's getting that damn flamingo away from the reptile enclosure for the tenth time that week on a Tuesday.)

Will feature other marines as well as all of the Shichibukai. All of them.

He checked the schedule and sighed deeply.

Boa, Doflamingo, Mihawk.

He had the most troublesome ones. Briefly, he contemplated just letting his subordinates handle them but quickly scrapped the idea.

He wouldn't say these animals were attached to him and the other admirals but they got more difficult to handle the lower the rank as though these creatures' egos get ruffled. It wasn't a matter of ability. It was perhaps more accurate to say that they had respect. A modicum of it.

It should be Boa's feeding time. Another sigh escaped him as he headed towards the grooming room, a room specifically made to groom Boa's food.

It took them a while to figure out the snake's preferred diet but they found it out when a stray kitten had snuck in and Boa swooped in to swallow it whole. From there they determined that she would only eat cute animals--any less adorable and she doesn't even look at it. So puppies and kittens. And maybe bunny rabbits. Which was bad from a PR perspective so they've taken to grooming rats. Put a nice lovely ribbon and brushed them so they're all fluffy.

He entered the grooming room and one of the officers assigned there took a quick look at him, glanced down the rat they were grooming, then burst to tears (they tended to get attached.) He pressed his hand to his head letting the ice cool down his budding headache. Why couldn't he have gotten Jinbe?

Thank you for playing. :)

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winter-fox-queen · 3 years

Text

Snagged the awesome Frankie pics for the above from the awesome @fuckyeahfranciscomorales / @beccaplaying

Hello!

OK. I have two more chapters of this story ready to go. This one is from Frankie’s POV. When last we left our heroes, Frankie found a post card in his mail that ruined the warm fuzzy date night the two of you were having. And now he’s doing the man thing where he retreats for your own good.

Next chapter has SMUT. I am nervous.

Warnings: The “I” character is a female, otherwise a blank slate. I hope it works as well as a self insert, if that’s something you enjoy reading. There is cursing. Angst.

Previous chapters are on my Masterlist, because it has be a while.

Chapter 4: Sadness and Regret

Frankie slouched in the cockpit of the old chopper. She’d been declaired grounded for good a few months ago, good for nothing but parts, but no one had the heart to start dismantling her. It should have been a safe space — the inside of any bird used to be — but he just felt an ache in the base of his heart, a wrongness, an itchiness.

He looked at the post card sitting propped on the control panel. It wasn’t a post card so much as a picture of two girls — Tom’s daughters — with a stamp stuck on it.

The back said, Don’t forget. It is all your fault.

He took pictures of front and back with his phone, opened the group chat, and posted.

Frankie: Look what I got in the mail. Anyone else hear from Molly?

He waited for a response, and he thought of you.

The way you’d laughed. Complimented everything. He’d felt genuinely happy, proud. Worthy.

And the way you’d responded to his touch. The way you stroked him, kissed him. The way you’d looked at him when he’d asked you if you wanted him. The sheer longing and desire had ripped right into his heart.

When he’d kissed your forehead, he’s thought, I could love you. I could fall so hard for you.

He’d thought, I could be so happy.

He’d give a good chunk of his soul to go back in time, put off getting the damned mail. Gone to bed with a grin on his face, dreaming about the next time he’d see you.

The post card was a reminder, alright. A reminder that he didn’t deserve to be happy. You wrote about violence, yes, but your good guys were always pure. You were naive. No one who ever held a gun was pure. He could practically see the blood tattooed on his hands. He could see the man in the kitchen, tied up, helpless, knowing the grim reaper was in the room and he wore Frankie’s face.

The phone pinged, startling him. He fumbled it open.

You. It was you. He closed his eyes. It almost hurt to read the words. Just checking on you. I think you got bad news in the mail? Are you ok?

Aw, sweetheart. He thought. He decided not to reply. Maybe you’d give up.

Will saved him from staring at your text, thinking if he should say something, anyway. Just a I’m ok?

Will: Fuck, Fish. You don’t really think Molly sent that?

Fish: Who else?

Pope: I went to check my mail after I got this. Check it out.

The picture took forever to load. It was a post card — a real one, this time. Of the Andes. The other side read “I will publish your names and addresses in every newspaper I can find, unless you tell me the truth.”

Will: Fuck. Why? What does she think she knows?

Benny: Guys.

And then the dancing dots indicating he was saying something else. Frankie held his breath. The dots stayed there a long time.

Benny: I went to see her. I didn’t tell her much, I swear. Just told her that we did a recce and things went wrong.

Fish: Benjamin, what the ever loving fuck did you do that for?

Benny: Fuck off, Fish, she deserved to know something.

Pope: I’ll go see her. I don’t like this.

Frankie hopped out of the chopper and shoved the picture, folded, into his back pocket. He took off his cap and ran his free hand through his hair. This is a nightmare. This is a fucking nightmare. He didn’t want to face her. He didn’t want to look at her daughters.

The phone binged again.

It was just Pope, not in the group chat.

Pope: Comin with?

Fish: Yeah. I’ll come pick you up.

****

The Davis house was munch as he remembered it…a decent, two story house with a large front yard, but it had put on a cloak of desolation all the same. Tom’s truck was parked to one side, the tires slowly sinking into the ground. The yard needed a mow. The windows looked dirty. Frankie shut off the engine, looked at Pope. Pope looked at him shook his head.

Frankie sighed. “Abandona la esperanza a todas las que entres aquí?”

Pope snorted. Abandon hope all ye who enter, indeed.

They got out of the truck. The daughters would be at school. Molly should be home.

The door bell was a cheerful, bright set of bells that seemed at odd with the rest of the house.

Molly opened the door. She looked well kept, but there was a thinness to her face, a coldness in her eyes. “So, I had to threaten you to get you to come here.”

“How did you know about Lorea?”

“¿Qué diablos, Pope?” Frankie asked. “Real subtle. Molly, can we come in and talk?”

“Sure. Why the hell not?” She held out an arm as if welcoming them in. They followed her into the family room.

“So, are we going to let Frank here try to do polite small talk, or do you want to tell me what I want to know, Pope? What I fucking deserve to know?” Molly sat in an armchair, sitting straight, hands tight on the arms.

“He has a point about Lorea.” Frankie said, a little stung and annoyed, “Where did you hear that name? And do you know how dangerous that name is?”

“Benny let it slip when he came here to try and be nice. Google did the rest. I used to be a good researcher. Once.”

“If you publish our names, he’s likely to come after you, too.” Frankie said. He’s sat on the couch opposite, leaning forward. He was pissed at Molly…he was. But he also liked her. He felt a weight of guilt whenever he saw her that was almost smothering, yes, but he also had a lot of good memories.

“It’s worth it. I want to know exactly what happened. And none of this bullshit about a recon gone wrong. Nothing makes sense. Tom’s death doesn’t make any fucking sense.”

“So now you don’t care about your daughters?” Pope was leaning against the fake fireplace mantle, arms crossed.

“So what’s this? Good cop bad cop? I thought you’d be pouring that famous Santiago charm on me right now.”

“Molly…”. Frankie held out a hand.

“Tell me the fucking truth, Frankie.”

“We went on a recon mission.” Pope said. “We went after a drug dealer who was destroying the people of his country, and we had the chance to take him out. So we did. Unfortunately, Lorea’s men came after us. They shot Tom.”

“And the rest of you returned without a scratch?”

“Iron…Will got shot, but we were able to stitch him up.” Frankie said, quietly. “Tom had a good plan to get us out…that’s why we survived.”

She looked at her hands. Slipped them off the arm rest and into her lap. “And the money that oh so magically showed up in my account?”

“We recov…”. Pope started, stopped, then said, “We found it and stole it. We were all going to split it even, but with what happened to Tom…”

“That doesn’t make it better.” She said.

“No.” Frankie said. “But it was all we could do.”

She nodded. “It’s a shame, about that house, Frankie. The one your grandmother left you.”

“What? I don’t…”

“Because you’re going to have to move, because I bet there are people who would love to get their hands on the gringos who killed Lorea.” She laughed. “Maybe the government will deal with you…who knows? Illegal op, right?”

Pope’s laugh was incredulous. “Why does that do? Do you really think they’ll sent a hit team up from South America to take us out?”

“Frank thinks they will. I hope you never play poker Morales.”

“I don’t…I don’t understand…”. Frankie was in shock. Because his fear wasn’t at all that someone would want revenge. No.

“Fuck you, Morales…Santiago. And tell the Millers to go to hell, too. You took my husband away from me.”

“OK, OK, punish me. But not Frankie…not the others.” Pope raised his hands. “The whole thing was my idea. They went along just like Tom did.”

“But they survived. Now get out of my house.”

Back in the truck, where they started.

Pope gestured to the house. “It’s an empty threat. No one fucking cares what we did. No evidence, no proof…”

“They won’t care about proof. Not that I think they will care about Lorea.” Frankie said softly.

“Then what?” But Pope knew. He knew.

“They’re gonna want that money. And we can’t give it to them.”

Pope swallowed. “I’ll tell the Millers. We gotta come up with a plan.”

#frankie morales #pedro pascal #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales fanfic #my fic

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forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years

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Unhallowed Arts

Threesome: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones x Brad Davis Rating: E Word Count: 11,077

This is a submission for Thotumn, organized by @spideysmjs!!! Today’s prompt: Threesome (but this fic also includes previous prompts: Semi-Public, Face-Sitting, and “Don’t Be Gentle”).

Summary: “What’s the compromise between abruptly shutting this down (her sex drive weeps) and getting in bed with a guy who will make the experience too emotionally intense?

'Have you ever had a threesome?’ Michelle blurts.

'…What? No.’

‘Neither have I. But I’ve been, um, wanting to try it.’

Have you? she demands of herself, wiping a damp palm on her jeans.

‘You, me, and someone else?’ Brad’s eyebrows are very high on his forehead. ‘That’s a lot of bodies, uh, coming together.’”

Brad Davis has a Mary Shelley mug. He used to drink from it—coffee he brought to work in a thermos from home, which smelled so delicious that Michelle would go out of her way to inhale it over his shoulder, pretending to let him show her something on his monitor—until the mug cracked and he switched to using it to house typical office junk. She asked him about the mug exactly once, fearing it was bait to intrigue a certain kind of person, to make him seem like a certain kind of person himself. But he surprised her. Turns out he’s not a douche (or at least not a douche who lures women in with female authors of historical significance), just a genuine Shelley fan.

He’s not many things Michelle initially assumed him to be, striking them off a mental list over the months they’ve worked together: not a guy who takes the last free seat at the table during a team meeting, not a guy who checks out his own reflection on his black phone screen, not a guy who wears sturdy hiking boots for show. When they troop out to conduct surveys on behalf of the conservation initiative they work for, Brad scrambles up the side of eroding banks and squelches into marshland until water soaks his socks and surface residue clings to his leg hair.

Brad’s not pushy, though she’s well aware that he’s been watching her as long as she’s been watching him.

Early on into them working together, she fell into his arms. Literally fell. The team encouraged Michelle to wait for the second truck, the one bringing the ladder, but she got stubborn and climbed the tree to check the bat box the old-fashioned way. Unfortunately, some of the branches were dead and hollow inside, but Brad caught her when she dropped eight feet. And then flirted with her before she could catch her breath. She had some less friendly words for him in return. The first time he surprised her was when he immediately respected her clear boundaries and backed off. They’ve learned to work easily with each other and drink together in the same booth when people from the initiative hit the bar—on evenings they don’t smell too much like they spent the day in Mother Nature’s armpit. They’re friendly, could almost be friends, except that she’s incredibly conscious of his persistent attraction to her, even if he doesn’t do anything about it because he’s not a douche. It’s a knowledge Michelle simply lives with.

But there have been an awful lot of evenings lately of smelling like whatever swamp she waded into during the day, of either going straight home to shower the stench away (thank fuck for rent with utilities included), or hunching over her laptop as she tries to get a grant application finished before a midnight submission deadline. Nobody she works with is holding their breath for the day the government decides it should just give them the money to protect local habitats without making them prove themselves over and over and compete against other worthy environmental projects for the funds. So, Michelle works, and she wades, and she loses many of the evenings she could be out getting laid.

On a regular they-better-pay-us-for-the-overtime evening and not a marshy/swampy/boggy one, she’s comfortably stretched out in a booth with Brad across the table. Two of their colleagues were here a minute ago, but they got up to… go to the bathroom? Grab another round? That’s a little hazy, but Michelle can feel something becoming clearer to her. Observing her own hand as she twirls the base of her latest empty across the tabletop, she asks a question.

“You like Mary Shelley, right?”

Brad, glassy-eyed but still trying to look professional with the way he has his hands folded on the surface in front of him, smiles at her. She can feel it.

“Yes. Her creativity was astounding. If I were in the running for the Miss Universe pageant—”

Michelle jerks her chin back and looks up to make a face at him.

“—and they asked me what historical figure I would most like to have dinner with, I would say Mary Shelley. Hands down.”

“Cool story, bro. Hey, Brad?”

“Mhmm.”

She can tell by his drifting gaze and expression of introspection that he’s planning out his pageant answers.

“Do you still want to sleep with me?”

That focuses his attention. He laughs uncomfortably.

“Why… why would you think that?”

“Oh, so, what’s your limit?” Michelle presses, slightly snide with the alcohol in her bloodstream. “You’re not interested in going past holding hands? Making out for no more than five minutes? Because you obviously want something,” she rambles on. “You look at me, I know you do.”

“This isn’t just an idle question, is it?” Brad asks.

He leans forward to look at her as carefully as his tipsiness will allow. As if he already knows the answer. Their thought patterns are very similar, she’s found. It’s why they’re effective at work and why it’s possible to fall into a discussion on books during their overlapping lunch hours. She likes him—not a lot, but enough to have started this conversation. She stares back at him.

“I wouldn’t say no to it,” he offers quietly, though the bar is crowded tonight and Michelle doubts their words are traveling beyond the booth.

Now, Brad’s looking at her in a way that makes her realize, all this time, he’s barely been looking at her. With the permission to think of her in this way, there’s a clear desire there, a gaze that slips again and again to her mouth. Huh. Ok. Maybe she didn’t completely think this whim through before sharing it with him. She can’t fuck that Brad. She’s been imagining the drinking companion, the nice forearms he reveals when he literally rolls up his sleeves in the field, the man who will always be a little on her nerves for flirting with her as he cradled her against him. Someone whose world she could casually rock with the assurance that they both have enough self-confidence to carry on afterwards without getting clingy or feeling disposed of.

What’s the compromise between abruptly shutting this down (her sex drive weeps) and getting in bed with a guy who will make the experience too emotionally intense?

“Have you ever had a threesome?” Michelle blurts.

“…What? No.”

“Neither have I. But I’ve been, um, wanting to try it.”

Have you? she demands of herself, wiping a damp palm on her jeans.

“You, me, and someone else?” Brad’s eyebrows are very high on his forehead. “That’s a lot of bodies, uh, coming together.”

“Come on, Brad—”

“‘Where’s your sense of adventure?’” he guesses.

“I was going to say, I thought you loved Frankenstein.”

She rounds her impulsive invitation off with a smile.

—

Michelle doesn’t volunteer to select the third person. When she considers which of her friends and acquaintances she’d be comfortable having sex with, well, there’s Brad. That already hasn’t gone the way she predicted. Everyone else she’s close to either feels like family, is in a monogamous relationship, or just isn’t attractive to her in that way. She consoles herself over putting the choice of their third into Brad’s hands with the thought that he seems like he’d be the most suspect person in a friend group (yes, they get along, but there’s something sleazy about the way he tries too hard), so whoever he asks can only be more tolerable than him.

“So, a buddy of mine said he’d be into it,” Brad says as she’s passing his desk one day. Michelle stops dead and he swivels in his chair, drumming his fingers on the armrest.

“You’re talking about…”

“Yeah.” He darts a look around, then hits her with a conspiratorial smile.

“Oh. Ok. Good. Turtles,” she says more loudly to cover for them. Her gaze darts to the nearest desk, but Jocelyn’s wearing headphones and bobbing her head as she populates a spreadsheet. Reassured, Michelle takes a step towards Brad and lowers her voice again. “What’s his name? How do you know him?”

“His name’s Peter. We play soccer together.”

“How the hell do you have time to participate in organized sports?”

“That’s what I do while you’re working your way through the New York Times Best Seller list,” Brad jokes.

“Fair. But who is this guy?”

“You want his résumé?”

“No, I want to know he’s not going to give me an STI or try anything freaky.”

“Freaky,” he echoes. “As opposed to threesomes, which are an incredibly common thing to do with your boyfriend.”

“Or your friend from work,” Michelle retorts, to keep things very clear. Brad appears fleetingly wounded. Too bad. He can say no any time, but it’s obvious that he’d rather see her naked in a threesome than the alternative. Which is never.

“Yeah, of course. Anyway, you don’t have to worry about Peter. He’s responsible, he’s single, he was raised by his aunt and they’re still really close. She comes to all our games.” He lets out a derisive sort of laugh and Michelle narrows her eyes at him.

“That’s sweet.”

“I guess,” he concedes.

“Why’s he single?” she asks, rapid-fire.

“I don’t know, because he wants to be?”

“‘Wants to be’ like he’s emotionally stable and waiting for the right person to come along or ‘wants to be’ like he’s a flake with commitment issues?”

Brad gives her a look like she’s overthinking this; it betrays an utter lack of comprehension of a woman’s perspective on relationships. The validity of her questions goes over his head.

“Why does it matter if he has commitment issues?”

“Relax,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I’m not trying to date him, it just says something about his personality. I don’t want to do this with somebody selfish, because if he’s selfish in other areas, he’s probably selfish in bed.”

“He’s a good passer,” Brad says. “On the field. He always ends the season with more assists than goals.”

“That’s… not a totally useless testimonial.”

“I appreciate your approval.”

Michelle would laugh if his tone weren’t a little too earnest. The way he really wants to impress her can be grating. Well, he’ll soon have his chance to impress her in a situation where she actually wants to be impressed.

“Get back to work, slacker,” she tells him, returning to her own desk.

Fifteen minutes later, Brad texts her with three different dates to choose from. Michelle pulls up her calendar, colour-coded with deadlines and days she’ll be working out in the woods. Taking late nights and the need for long showers into account, she picks a date, then leaves her thumb hovering over ‘Send’. She puts her phone down.

This is where she could still back out. Brad’s mentioned it to his friend, but she’s under no obligation to either of them. Would it be awkward to change her mind and see Brad at work every day? Yes, though she could always say she just wasn’t that serious about it to begin with. Which she wasn’t! For someone who’s soothed by referring to her colour-coded calendar and progressing through life with each forward step carefully considered, tossing out a suggestion to have a threesome was rash.

Michelle eyes her phone.

On the other hand, Brad likes her too much to be a dick post-ménage à trois, which, as far as she can see, is sort of an ideal trait in a threesome companion. If she were going to do this. She wheels her chair back and cranes to peer across the room at him. Focused on his screen, he brushes his black hair out of his face with a quick swipe of his hand. Damn, he is nice-looking. The kind of guy Michelle would definitely approach at a bar for a one-night stand if he flashed a smile her way. If picturing him naked intrigues her, then the idea of lying down between him and another muscled body (Brad said soccer, so she’s assuming this friend has an athletic build) while the three of them wind over and under each other like a braid definitely ticks a big ‘YES’ box in her brain. Her hand shoots out for her phone. She hits ‘Send’.

Three bodies which will, in Brad’s words, be coming together. Maybe not what Mary Shelley had in mind, but anticipating this threesome does more for Michelle’s libido than an electrified jigsaw of corpses ever could.

—

It’s a different bar, and she’s in different clothes, but otherwise, it’s not a totally foreign way for Michelle and Brad to spend their Friday evening. Provided he shows up. She darted home after work and a loaded glance at Brad, showered, and starred deep into her neglected makeup bag like it was some sort of prophetic tool. Michelle, it said to her, you don’t want lipstick smeared all over your face and eyeshadow fallout stinging your eyes. Leave it at mascara and a whole whack of waterproof eyeliner. She obeyed these wise words with trembling hands, nearly prodding herself in the eye with her mascara wand because, even with a doable task to concentrate on, she was nervous.

She adjusts her short, black skirt, rocking side-to-side on the stool. For a regular date, it’s the kind of item she would borrow from a friend, but it struck Michelle as incredibly gross to wear a friend’s skirt to a threesome and then return it to them afterwards, so she bought this one online. During work hours. Feeling incredibly furtive, though everybody dabbles in online shopping during lulls in their workload. The skirt was never a normal purchase; she knew it was going to end up right here, right now, between her ass and a barstool. She gulps the end of her whiskey and goes back to cradling the beer that’s been her emotional support as she waits for the guys.

Arriving ten minutes early has felt like an age—time stretching wretchedly like those clocks in ‘The Scream’—but she finally hears a familiar voice calling her name. Flipping her hair out of the neck of her leather jacket and grabbing her support system, Michelle turns to spot Brad’s face. He smiles and waves, stepping through the crowd that’s building steadily as the after-work drinkers are exchanged for the cutting-loose-for-the-weekend drinkers. When she slips down from the stool, her skirt rides up, and the man who is usually just a co-worker allows himself to notice. His gaze on her bare legs feels good.

“Sorry we’re late,” he says, though they both know she’s early. But Michelle will take this pleasantry over an implication that she’s overeager.

Since they were at work together only a few hours ago, she skips small talk.

“Where’s your…” Friend, she’s going to say. She doesn’t need to.

Brad—tidy in a partially unbuttoned blue shirt—angles himself towards her side, making room for the woman taking the barstool she vacated, and Michelle sees a man approaching with the two of them as his clear destination. Her first sense of him is filtered through Brad. Once, through Brad’s description, twice, through Brad’s cologne. It may be coming off her friend’s skin, but the scent clings to Peter in her brain. What she’s smelling is the woods, only more expensive somehow, like a perfume company bottled the idea of glamping. Doesn’t matter that the scent doesn’t suit him at all. He walks with his head up, eyes openly excited, and it makes her think of a schoolkid progressing through a museum’s dinosaur exhibit. All he’s missing is a backpack with straps for him to clutch. Letting her gaze skim down from his face, Michelle actually can’t picture him trying to haul on a backpack; his shoulders look broad and strong, even under the incongruous red hoodie he’s wearing.

“Oh,” he says when he sees her standing next to Brad. Under any other circumstances, she’d be taken aback by his eyes scanning the full length of her body, but she’s going to fuck this stranger tonight and when he looks back up to her face, he’s grinning. “Hey.”

“Hi,” she replies, more guarded, less forward, until Brad suggests trying to find someplace to sit and Michelle’s able to check Peter out from behind as he leads them away from the bar. Nice butt.

They snag a coveted corner spot as a small group in business attire is leaving it, settling with Brad between them. Peter makes himself useful by dashing back to the bar and returning with the fingers of one hand twined between the necks of a trio of beers and the fingers of the other slightly dipping into the liquid in a pair of tumblers.

“I didn’t know what you’d like beyond what you’re already drinking,” he says, jerking his chin towards the beer Michelle finished while he was gone.

“That’s fine,” she assures him. “I don’t want to be too… I want to be aware of…”

God, trying to discuss the imminent threesome directly is making her flustered. She has a swig from the new bottle he placed in front of her. Peter leans across Brad and offers his to clink with. Where Brad’s face is aggressively handsome in the heavy line of his eyebrows and the sharp perfection of his teeth, up close, Peter’s is cute and unintimidating.

“Here’s to being a consenting participant tonight and remembering it tomorrow,” he says.

Unintimidating, but not uncompelling, especially when he tilts his head back to drink and she can watch the line of his jaw.

Michelle blushes, but knocks her bottle against his.

Two rounds deeper for them and one for her, the heat of the bar and the alcohol in her system are getting to her. She winds her way back from the washroom and shrugs out of her jacket before sitting down. Peter manages to get the end of his sentence out, but Brad doesn’t even try to respond as he takes in the low sides of her silky top. Michelle slides closer to him than she was sitting before and puts a hand on his knee as he finally turns his head and stutters out a reply to Peter. Peter looks past him and catches her eye. Her heart’s springing up and down in her chest because she realized, staring at her reflection as she washed her hands, that, if they’re going to do this, somebody’s gotta make a move. Peter, sleeves shoved up, is staring back at her like he’s been thinking the same thing. His hand smooths over Brad’s thigh.

Under the table, Brad keeps his legs still, his feet flat on the ground. His comfort in his own skin is something Michelle’s always respected. He even succeeds in raising his glass steadily to his lips and taking another drink while Peter runs his hand higher. With a little throat-clearing, Brad parts his thighs further. She doesn’t mean to be, but Michelle’s waiting for Peter to go first. They were talking about something innocuous when he said just enough to imply that he’s never been in a threesome either. Regardless, there’s a confidence in the way he touches Brad. She trails her fingers up Brad’s thigh and Peter locks eyes with her as their gazes cross watching their friend swallow.

Suddenly, the man between them is a little less present, even with the sharp breath he takes at the moment Peter tucks his hand against his crotch. Michelle rests her hand over his. She feels his skin, lets her fingers slip through his, as Brad gasps and swells beneath Peter’s palm; she can tell—they have to change the curve of their grip to accommodate the erection. Brad’s arm curls around her waist and presses her into his side as her and Peter’s hands move together, stroking through Brad’s pants, rubbing him. He glances at her, heat in his eyes, but she’s looking at Peter again by the time she leans in and kisses Brad’s throat. She draws it out into a lick at the slack way Peter’s mouth is hanging open. Hopefully, the fall of her hair is blocking the necking from the view of other patrons, but that hope is tough to keep in mind when Peter’s tongue appears to wet his lower lip. Like she’s kissing him.

There’s a squeeze between Michelle’s thighs that has her gripping Peter’s hand more firmly, urging him to jerk Brad off faster. She glances towards Peter’s lap and he lifts his hoodie with his free hand to expose the bulge in the front of his jeans. The scent of her perfume rises as sweat trickles between her breasts. They knead Brad rapidly until he chokes out a plea for them to stop, begging to take this someplace private. She grabs her jacket in one hand and links the fingers of her other through Brad’s. Tugging him to the exit, she trusts Peter to bring up the rear.

—

Making out in the back of a rideshare is bad behaviour, so Michelle takes the passenger’s seat when the car pulls up. Because she is feeling the need to go back a step from risky under-the-table handjobs and just kiss someone. And that someone is not the friend she arranged this with. She glances at the sidemirror as they’re passing under a streetlight and Peter’s staring at her. He winks. Slowly, like she’s just looking idly around as they drive, she turns to glance into the backseat. Brad has his arm stretched out along the top the seats and his fingers have dipped into the neck of Peter’s hoodie. Michelle’s pulse accelerates just imagining the warmth of that throat. Scrambling for her phone, she sends Brad a text.

Put your fingers in his mouth.

She faces forward again for about a block, prolonging her outward nonchalance even as she hears a vibration, followed by Brad’s soft snort of acknowledgement as he reads her text. She glances around the edge of her seat and sees him act. His hand comes out of the sweatshirt to take Peter by the chin and turn his face towards him. Briefly, he inclines his head towards his friend, speaking too quietly for her to distinguish the words, but Michelle guesses it’s something about her watching because Peter’s gaze jumps to her as he opens his mouth and accepts two of Brad’s fingers. She can see him sucking as Brad withdraws, cheeks flushed. He looks to her—for approval, she thinks, until he holds his wet fingers up and curls them in the air in a highly suggestive motion. Oh shit. Michelle feels herself pressing down on the floor of the car like she’s in the driver’s seat with the accelerator under her foot.

They’re going to her place where: she’s on home turf, she knows it’s clean, she can go right to sleep after kicking them out. Also, the one luxury of her second-story apartment is the king-size bed her friends seriously, outrageously got on ladders to help her push through the sliding door of her balcony because that was easier than carrying it up the narrow staircase. Tonight, she plans to get some good use out of all those acres of mattress.

As with the hijinks in the car, she knows both men are watching her as she lets them into the building and then through her front door.

“Kitchen,” Michelle says, with a loose wave of her hand. “Living room, bathroom. And the bedroom’s at the end of the hall.”

Brad excuses himself to empty his bladder and/or psych himself up in the mirror above the bathroom sink and she’s wondering how to entertain his friend during these uncertain moments of transition when Peter basically lunges forward and kisses her. She moans into his mouth because it’s sudden but it’s good. His hands go right to her ass and her arms wrap around the back of his neck, holding him against her. With her heels, she has a handful of inches on him, but that doesn’t appear to make him pouty or daunted. It’s less than a minute, probably fewer than thirty seconds (understanding the flow of time is temporarily lost on Michelle), but they separate panting.

“You can tell Brad to stick his fingers in my mouth all you want,” Peter murmurs, still staring at her lips, “but I’ve got something I wanna to stick places too.”

“Understood.” She nudges her thigh into his groin.

“So, you guys aren’t waiting for me, huh?” Brad asks with a tight smile as he walks out of the bathroom to see Peter’s hands on her ass and her pressing back against him.

This is kind of the idea, all three of them experimenting with each other, but she can tell he’s annoyed that anything went on while he was out of the room. That he’s possibly jealous. Though it doesn’t feel right to move away from Peter, Michelle knows how to rectify this. She strides to Brad and puts her hands lightly on his chest before kissing him, more coyly than Peter kissed her. She lets Brad come down to her as he hunts out what he wants from the kiss. This feels nice too, though it has more of the familiarity of kissing a friend—even though they haven’t touched in this way before—than the bubbling lust that went with kissing Peter. As she continues, tracing her fingers to the center of his chest to stroke his skin and begin undoing his buttons, Peter comes up behind her and helps her out of her jacket. She hears her keys jingle in the pocket and tap against her phone. When his hands sneak through the sides of her shirt to run across the underside of her breasts, Michelle pushes Brad back, back, back, and the three of them stagger to her bedroom.

She and Brad make out in the dark for a while, and without light, the kissing get rougher, their breathing ragged. Once she has all the buttons of Brad’s shirt undone, she reaches back for Peter and he grips her hand tightly as he grinds his erection against her ass. They’re pressing snugly into her front and back when she thinks of things like being able to locate condoms and ogle muscles—both activities require some light. Michelle squeezes out from between them and turns her bedside lamp on, angling the shade so the light stays low. Turning to check on them, she sees one man standing there with his shirt open and dishevelled and the other rigid in the front of his jeans. Brad’s hard too—she felt it when she stood against him, but his erection’s not visible from where she’s standing now. It’s odd, seeing the space between their bodies and knowing she was just in it. But with Peter rubbing Brad’s dick at the bar and Brad clearly turned on by having Peter suck his fingers on the way here, they’ve been messing around too. Why should they pause to get her back in the middle? Stubborn and curious, Michelle crosses her arms where she stands and gives them an expectant look.

Peter reacts first; he grabs the back of Brad’s neck and stretches up to kiss him. The instant their mouths meet, Michelle understands the three of them have a problem. Trading off sexual favours, these guys are ok, but being on two sides of the same kiss makes them competitive. Fucking weekend athletes. Countering the dominant neck-grab, Brad bats Peter’s arm away and takes his face in his hands. It’s not sweet, it’s controlling. Peter’s next move is yanking Brad’s body against his by crumpling the open front of his shirt in his fists. Oops, well, alright, Michelle decides. Maybe it’s better to put herself back in the equation.

Because she has no intention of babying Brad through this experience, when she slips between them, she puts her back to him. Picturing his disappointed face, she raises her arms.

“Take her shirt off,” Peter interprets, tearing his hoodie over his head in a flurry that peels the t-shirt beneath halfway up his torso.

It’s evident in his method that Brad isn’t interested in being told what to do with her. He makes sure to drag his hands over her as he takes his time. Maybe he’s being a dick about it—that’s what the narrowing of Peter’s eyes tells her as he stares at Brad around Michelle’s head—but she’s enjoying this. There’s something about having spent so much time with Brad and those hands that has her pressing back against his erection. She’s witnessed him performing countless practical tasks, like driving the stakes for ‘Trail Closed’ signs deep into semi-frozen ground with a sledgehammer to protect new plant growth in the spring, knotting a rope leash around the waist of one of their colleagues as overkill when they wade into a pond to collect a sample, or just his impressive typing speed. (Not as many words per minute as she logs, but still.) He’s only quick when he pushes the material above her breasts and shifts his hands down quickly to cover, then massage them. She can almost hear him internally screaming at Peter that he beat him to this, only she doesn’t care. He’s tugging her nipples now and she shuts her eyes with a sigh.

“You like that?” he asks into her ear, which is when Peter loses patience for this display and removes her shirt the rest of the way himself.

Michelle retaliates by dropping her arms and edging his shirt up his stomach while Brad continues to caress her chest, now also kissing her shoulder. Though Peter lets her remove his t-shirt herself, she can add a willingness to get naked quick to the few things she knows about him; he seems like he’d be just as happy to whip all his clothes off at once as go through the foreplay of undressing each other. She remembers what he said to her in the kitchen. He has his own aspirations for tonight and the grin he gives her when she gets his t-shirt off makes her wonder what he wants and how soon she’ll be giving it to him. Michelle can’t feel any part of her resisting. It’s… surprisingly freeing.

Brad shuffles behind her, slipping out of his shirt, and her heart leaps as his chest presses to her back, skin to skin. Peter makes a grab for her crotch, but she lifts her eyebrows wryly and spins to face Brad instead.

“This fucking skirt,” she hears Peter mumble behind her as he slides his hands up her thighs to play with the hem.

It’s not exactly a sexual fantasy she’s fulfilling when she digs her fingers into Brad’s hair and combs it back, but it’s definitely a fantasy. He just has great hair. Sometimes, when she’s bored in a meeting, she’ll look over at him and feel this compulsion to run her fingers through it. She discovers that the strands feel soft and wonderful, so there’s one dream realized.

As she’s moving the palm of her hand down to cup his cheek, she shifts her head to the side, catching Brad’s eye and nodding back towards Peter.

“Kiss him nicely,” Michelle instructs.

Brad’s dark eyes bore into hers for a moment, then he breaks the stare and looks to Peter.

“Let’s go, Parker.”

Satisfied, she gets out of the way, circling behind Peter. While he’s partly distracted by the kiss (tamer than last time, by the looks of it), she rests her hands on his waist. Then, Michelle thinks, Screw it, and feels him up all over his chest, shoulders, and stomach, before wending her way down to his hips. His jeans are probably really putting pressure on his erection right now. She’ll help. After flicking the button open, she means to move away, but… plans change. She’s barely dipping the tips of her fingers below the waist of his jeans when Peter pulls away from Brad’s insistent mouth to mutter, “Well, that’s not fair.”

Instead of continuing, Michelle delights in retreating. Peter’s protesting noise is absorbed by his friend’s lips and she pats his ass before going to tease Brad. First, she guides the hand Peter has on Brad’s shoulder up into his hair so he can share her joy at how touchable it is. Then, she grazes her palms down his back. His friend’s body is dense with muscles, like somebody who goes to the gym a lot, where Brad’s is lean. Their work is a decent split between time indoors and outside, fairly physical, so she knows he has strong legs, good lungs, all the endurance he needs for the days they have to park far from a trailhead or navigate gullies. She forgot to ask what position they each play on their soccer team, but she’ll be concerned with another type of position for the foreseeable future.

To keep things even, Michelle unbuttons Brad’s pants. He makes a needful sound and goes momentarily loose between her body and Peter’s. This is not the reaction she expected from a man so socially comfortable, who apparently maintains a far better work/life balance (and, presumably, a steadier sex life) than she has lately. These noises, which continue as she works his zipper down against the push of his erection, expose him. He makes himself vulnerable. Something zinging through Michelle’s body compels her to take advantage.

She and Peter propel Brad’s co-operative body towards the bed. The guys land with a thump and continue kissing; Peter’s fingers form a gun as he angles Brad’s jaw, driving his tongue into his friend’s mouth. Michelle stares at them, breathing hard for having done nothing. Not breaking the kiss, Brad raises a hand to reach for her, but she’s quicker than that, dropping to her knees. She and the band of his underwear get along immediately—it’s easy to uncover his dick and the elastic cradles him instead of trying to snap back into place against his abdomen. Though the access with his pants still on isn’t amazing, she kisses his stomach, then the head of his cock. Up above, Brad moans.

With a smirk, Michelle repositions a little on her knees and grasps her friend’s thighs. He’s whimpering. He’s full-on whimpering. She leans in and licks slowly up his length. Her heels are already starting to bother her, so she reaches back and tugs them off one at a time. The next thing she means to do is gather her hair out of the way as she shallowly sucks Brad’s erection and strands swing forward, trying to tangle in his open zipper and stick to the saliva she’s coating him in, but Peter’s hand is there first. Still making out with Brad (she can hear it if she can’t see it), he encircles her hair in his grip and rests his fist lightly on her shoulder. Dammit. She’s a soft touch for his soft touch, closing her eyes to the sensation of his knuckles brushing her skin. This stranger is ruining the nice underwear she put on tonight.

“Please, Michelle, please,” Brad breaks free of Peter’s mouth to say.

He reaches out to hold her ribs, cup her breasts, but while he and his friend might share the field on Saturdays or whenever, they don’t seem to be on the same team tonight.

“Nope,” Peter informs him. “I get her next.”

“None of that possessive shit,” she warns.

“Can I please have you next?”

“You must be a real pain for your friends,” Michelle guesses sarcastically, letting him guide her over to his lap instead of Brad’s. (Who’s probably looking sour. She doesn’t know. Her eyes are glued to Peter’s.)

“No pain, I promise. I’ll be gentle.”

She rolls her eyes and settles in, straddling him.

“Oh my—” There is no ‘god’ because he kisses her before she can finish.

That’s his second annoying offense in seconds and she’s going to let him know. Really, she is. But he’s reminding her that he never let go of her hair by lifting it and slipping his hand against the nape of her neck to caress her skin. Michelle angles her hips and grinds up and down the swell in his jeans. Peter doesn’t mess around stroking her legs and hips, he just darts both hands beneath her skirt and traces the edges of her underwear where they curve around her thighs and narrow between them. She can feel him draw the fabric aside and gasps into his mouth, anticipating his fingers, when Brad tips the both of them over.

It’s disorienting, but they twist onto their sides and her friend scoots close behind her, so she decides she doesn’t mind.

“You’re not getting out of this,” Peter speaks quietly against her mouth when she thinks he’s about to kiss her again.

Michelle finds herself smiling, almost laughing, as he flips her skirt up and elects to take her underwear off. There’s only so much he can do like this, so she takes over, kicking them to the floor. That’s annoying offense number three; those underwear are sexy and she thought she’d be showing them off some before they hit the hardwood. Weirdly, Peter’s disregard only makes her smile broaden.

“Like I was trying,” she quips.

“Are we bantering,” Brad checks, “or are we fucking?”

“Dude, I am so sorry for the people you sleep with. Banter is an important part of the process,” Peter instructs.

“Fuck you, Parker.”

“And when you do, I guess I can’t expect any banter. I’ll adjust my expectations.”

“I’ll adjust your nose with my fist,” Brad responds in a playful tone. Michelle isn’t completely sold and she wavers, sandwiched between the two of them.

“Cool,” she says, “but actually, I am here to get laid.”

Two sets of male hands collide where her thighs are pressed together. She takes a deep breath at their enthusiasm, unable to tell whose fingers are skating along the skin just above her pubic hair and whose are subtly attempting to wedge between her legs.

“After you,” Brad says smoothly.

“Thanks, man.”

Her friend’s hands retreat a short distance and Peter insinuates one of his thighs between hers to create some space.

“This ok?” he checks, sweet face even sweeter horizontal.

“Be my guest,” Michelle says, copying Brad’s formality and reaching up and back to squeeze his shoulder so he realizes. She gets a kiss on her neck in response.

Peter’s fingers run slickly through her arousal. It’s a methodical mapping, feeling as though it’s meant to arouse her rather than him, but their eyes meet and he’s wearing an expression like he’s the one being fondled, though his erection cleaves to his abdomen, twitching under his clothes as he fingers her.

“You’re teasing me,” she points out, pulse jumping at her inner thigh.

“Am I not supposed to?”

Michelle tries to rock harder against the pass of his fingers and he moves them away with a grin and a chiding, “Ah!”

“Just give her what she wants,” is Brad’s disgruntled input.

She turns to watch as he sits up and undresses from the waist down. He gives her a smile like they’re on the same side, demonstrated by him advocating for her pleasure—something Michelle’s quite comfortable doing on her own. And yet, alright, her friend’s heart is in the right place, and it is difficult to monitor and decipher the fluctuating moods and responses of two other people, and his directive is obeyed. Peter’s fingers return and push through the wetness he helped generate, touching her entrance and gliding inside her, one finger, then two. Michelle groans deep in her throat because finally.

Brad lies down at her back again and, with Peter working her up, she fumbles behind her and grabs her friend’s ass to encourage him closer. She can feel him hard and hot against her, partly touching her rumpled skirt, partly her skin. He rubs against her and reaches an arm around, greedily squeezing her hip, then sweeping down to feel for her clit.

She’s sweating between their bodies, breathing hard and shuddering involuntarily when Brad gets his fingers positioned to trap her clit and begin gradually cracking her mind like peanut brittle. Where he’s painstaking, Peter’s exultant. He increases the pace of his fingers until they’re shuttling in and out of her. Michelle grips Brad’s wrist with one hand, Peter’s neck with the other, then switches, then moves both hands, grappling for some constancy that the part of her brain currently squashed beneath her need for satisfaction knows she’s not gonna get. Her hips are writhing in their hands as a clear goal fights its way through the fog of lust: unzip Peter’s jeans. It’s tricky, with the over- and underpass of arms, but she does it and he thanks her with a sloppy kiss that only seems to land on her mouth by miracle.

“Close,” she gasps.

Behind her, Brad groans and nips at the base of her neck, making her shake. He’s humping her quickly, pushing with his hips as he pulls back with his fingers on her clit. Good thing Peter hooks his fingers firmly inside her so he doesn’t get jostled off this ride. Good thing too that his curling motion strikes her so, so right. Michelle cries out and comes, his fingers still pumping ruthlessly inside her, Brad pinching her clit, and then coming himself; she feels the jet spurt up her back, probably some on her skirt too.

Which is why she did not borrow clothes for this threesome.

Peter’s expression is impish as he tries to keep coaxing her through the pleasure, but she pushes at his chest and he finally takes his hand away.

“Oh my god,” Michelle sighs, flopping back and half onto Brad.

“Go team,” her friend pants from beneath her.

“Yeah. You guys have some kinda cheer you do at your games?”

“Sometimes we bump chests,” Peter offers, hands suddenly on her boobs.

She twists, trying to see Brad’s face without lifting up. Her temple makes contact with his chin.

“Does your friend have an off switch?”

“If he did, I’d skip that and just pull the plug,” Brad says. He wraps an arm around her and she wiggles until he relaxes the hold, forcing him to make it less territorial.

“Aww,” Peter says, managing to cup her breasts in a perfunctory way, like he’s pushing them up to prevent under-boob sweat while she cools off post-orgasm, “you guys are bantering. I knew you could do it. Also,” he adds, “I don’t know if anyone happens to be keeping track, but I’m the only one who hasn’t gotten off.”

“That sucks, man.”

With effort, Michelle sits up and glares at Brad’s unconcerned face.

“Don’t be a dick,” she says.

“Yeah, Brad,” Peter joins in.

Shaking her head, she puts her back to her friend and checks Peter’s face for her go-ahead. He nods in rapid approval, so she grips the waist of his open jeans and pulls down while he lifts his ass from her bed. Fuck, the three of them never even got under the sheet. Then again, it’s easier to be mobile above it. Plus, it’s an extra layer between her expensive mattress and the fluid drying on her spine.

Because Peter doesn’t seem like the kinda guy who cares to be undressed layer by layer, Michelle doesn’t striptease herself with taking off his clothes slowly. At some point, he kicked his shoes away, meaning it’s straightforward to yank the boxers and jeans down his legs. Her intention is to remove them completely. He doesn’t seem to have a hell of a lot of regard for her intentions.

“That’s far enough, I swear,” he says, when she has his jeans around his shins. “I’m good. Nike time. Just do it.”

“Just do what exactly?” Michelle asks indulgently. She rests a hand on his naked thigh and tries not to stare openly at his dick, red as a slap.

“Anything. Whatever you want. Brad says you’re multitalented.”

Brad rolls over lazily to glare at Peter.

“What the hell, Parker? Don’t make it sound like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I talk about Michelle like that!”

“I get it,” she says, cutting him off. Please shut up, Peter, she thinks. “You talk to him about work. You appreciate me as a co-worker.”

“That’s definitely why I’ve heard so much about you,” Peter agrees provokingly. “Because he appreciates you as a co-worker.”

“You know what?” Brad bites out.

“What?”

Michelle rolls her eyes and opts to terminate this snippy little back and forth by grasping Peter’s cock and bending over to wrap her lips around the head. That shuts both of them up. Thank god, some fucking peace.

He emits a deep groan of approval and weaves his fingers into her hair, slightly bucking his hips. As she sinks to take him deeper, she hears another groan—hoarse with an entirely different emotion—coming from Brad. She doesn’t stop. If he has something to say, he can damn well use his words. Michelle clutches the inside of Peter’s muscular thigh and sucks as she starts to withdraw only to plunge him farther into her mouth. Peter’s hand finds hers and tangles their fingers together next to his hip, catching some of the sheet in his grip too. The gesture dizzies her heart.

While he’s seeing god, Brad’s apparently seeing red, because he taps, then tugs, at her shoulder, until she pulls off of Peter and shoots her friend an impatient look.

“What?”

“I’ll do that,” he says, nodding towards Peter’s straining, saliva-slicked erection.

“Somebody better fucking do it,” Peter says in the tragic tone of an established sufferer. They ignore him for the moment.

“You want to?” Michelle asks skeptically.

When Brad averts his eyes from hers, she realizes that, no, he doesn’t want to, he just doesn’t enjoy watching her blow Peter. She wavers, wondering if she should cancel tonight halfway through. Maybe that would be sacrificing what she wants for the self-esteem of these two men, but they’re just so goddamn annoying. They’re supposed to be friends and they’re acting like rivals. Michelle doesn’t owe loyalty to either of them, she’s nobody’s girlfriend, and yet she’s getting the feeling that she needs to pick a side. Even a novice like her can tell this isn’t the way a threesome’s meant to go. If they were worse at this, she might be able to walk away.

Abruptly, Brad kisses her, then nudges her gently aside as he drops to his elbows to pick up where she left off. Peter draws a fraying breath. Well, either these two aren’t combative enough to present her with an ultimatum, or they just want to get laid as badly as she does. If Brad bites Peter or some shit though, she’s throwing them both out and leaving the necessary medical care in their hands. Michelle will not be responsible for these men and their egos.

Peter tweaks her fingers, their hands still clasped. She leans in close to observe his heavy breathing and the way his hair’s sticking to his sweaty forehead.

“I still want you,” he whispers. The words are like static shock, like a finger tracing unexpectedly down her neck. “And you better be quick because I think Brad thinks he’ll get extra points for speed.”

He gasps, eyes rolling back, and Michelle instinctively cups his neck, running the pad of her thumb along his throat. She doesn’t glance over at Brad; hearing the frantic wet noises paints a sufficiently informative picture.

“You think you can concentrate while he’s doing that?”

“Totally.” Immediately, a desperate, guttural croak leaves Peter’s lips.

“You sure?”

“No, but I still want to put my tongue inside you and that should count for—uhhh!—something.”

“Such as?” she asks with a wry smile, straightening her legs out so she can remove her unspeakably defiled skirt.

“Hell if I know, my concentration was pretty shitty to begin with.”

“Center yourself,” Michelle says in the calm, instructive tone of a yoga tutorial as she levers herself over his chest and rests her ass lightly on the hard planes of his pecs.

“Brad,” Peter begs, “cut me some slack for one fucking minute, dude.”

“One minute, huh?” she teases.

“Are you doubting me?”

“Peter Parker, I don’t even know you.”

But, somehow, she’s beaming down at him as her hair falls around her shoulders. For an instant, he looks completely focused on her and not the sound of Brad switching from giving him head to pumping him in a fist (his version of slack-cutting, evidently). Peter eyes her from her face down to where her legs are spread above his body. Then back to her face.

“I’d like for you to.”

Her teasing expression softens. She parts her lips to respond and he wrenches her forward, onto a mouth that opens at once. He licks up into her, then keep his tongue tensed and prods her clit back and forth. Michelle curls into herself, thighs suddenly snug against the sides of his head, fingers locked in his hair.

This is, perhaps, the single event within the larger experience that sells her on threesomes. Peter’s mouth feels incredible on its own (like he’s fusing the peanut brittle shards of her mind back together again and going too far, melting them into goo), but the intermittent moaning that leaves it due to Brad’s contribution down below means Michelle’s riding something that licks, sucks, and vibrates. She’s a mess. Tilted forward, she’s nearly crying out to plant her hands on the bed and just grind across Peter’s tongue, but the hand not hold hers has her hip in a formidable hold and she can’t reach far enough to be comfortable. Each time she thinks to force her eyes open and check his face to make sure he’s enjoying this as much as she is (and still breathing), Peter’s eyelids are flickering as he absorbs the combined pleasure of taking from Brad and giving to Michelle. She’s shaking and trying not to get too rough with him, smoothing a hand over the hair she’s been practically pulling out at the roots. Peter counters with a quick smack to her ass before seizing her hip again. Fine, she won’t be nice.

Michelle shifts and rolls her clit against the tip of his nose. It positions her entrance above his wide-open mouth and he slides his tongue thickly back inside her. The sound of him tongue-fucking her is graphic. He loses his rhythm and gets even more aggressive with his mouth—she figures he’s close to release. Peter groans and arches his neck and chin up when he finishes, so she lifts swiftly away, hating to do it, aching and slippery.

She throws herself off of him, collapsing back onto her elbows with her thighs quivering. Dazedly, she observes Brad hurrying from the room with his lips clamped together (not a swallower then—the things she’s learning about her friend tonight). Peter’s lying there, spent. With her emotions high, their tableau causes her to despair. It’s over. It’s all over. One of them’s too wiped to carry on, the other’s just finished giving oral and won’t want to return just to bring her to orgasm. Michelle lets her head hang back and swipes two fingers over her clit, catching it and adding pressure on the upstroke.

Peter rolls over like he’s risen from the dead.

“You don’t—” she begins, but then he’s there, between her quaking knees, suctioning his mouth to her and using his tongue to fiddle around with her clit. His arms are limp and heavy as they hold her thighs down and open. Any energy he has is converted into strokes and twirls, from there into her overwhelmed sobs. Brad walks back in to Michelle yelling, “Peter, fuck!” as she climaxes with her head thrown back and his pressed insistently into her groin by her stiff hand. When Brad comes to sit on the bed, Peter’s leg kicks out and catches him right in the stomach. The kick drives him off the mattress and onto the floor with a thud.

Michelle scrambles away from Peter, to the edge of the bed, as Brad stands and starts putting his clothes on, his back to her.

“Are you going?”

She sees Brad’s shoulders rise and fall as he sighs, but he doesn’t answer her. Once he’s dressed from the waist down, he lifts his shirt from the floor with a swish and slips his arms in as he walks back out of the room. Uh oh. Michelle glances to Peter who appears maddeningly unsurprised. She yanks at the bedsheet until he moves off of it, but touches her wrist as she wraps it hastily around herself to chase after their friend.

“I’m sorry if I wrecked this for you,” he says.

“No.” She shakes her head. “He wanted tonight to be something it was never going to be and I thought, when he invited you, that he could handle it, but… I gotta go talk to him.”

“I think I’m already lucky he didn’t jump up and break my nose, so I better stay here.”

“Alright.”

Michelle almost stumbles trying to keep the end of the sheet off the floor, but she gets to Brad while he’s still buttoning his shirt, patting his pockets to check for wallet, phone, keys, maybe the little Swiss Army knife he carries because it always comes in handy eventually.

“Brad,” she says, cautious in cotton and bare feet.

He cuts a look at her with his dark eyes.

“Better not,” he suggests.

“You’re really leaving?”

“Do you need me to stay?”

She hesitates, leaning away from him slightly at the question.

“Well, it was supposed to be—”

“No,” he interrupts. “Do you need me to stay?”

His eyebrow twitches with everything he’s suppressing: hurt, hope, jealousy. Brad’s smart, he knows the answer, but he still ventures forward with grave determination, the way he’d lead a group of their colleagues down a forest deer path that may or may not be crossed with poison ivy. But Michelle is not something for him to sweep clear and overcome.

“We can only be friends, Brad,” she tells him, straight and honest. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy doing this with you…”

He grins ironically, giving her a glimpse of his bright, perfect teeth.

“Please. You two were shutting me out before Parker booted me in the stomach.”

She doesn’t really have a defense for that. They might have touched Brad, grabbed him, licked and kissed him, but none of that compared to how she felt whenever Peter took her hand. She’s actually a little scared to walk back into her bedroom and face that.

“He didn’t mean to,” Michelle asserts awkwardly. Brad lifts his eyebrows. “Probably,” she qualifies. He nods tiredly.

“If he tells you I was a dick to him after our next game…”

“What makes you think I’ll still be in contact with him then?” Brad gives her a look and she frowns, chastened. “I’ll believe him,” she says instead, “and I won’t blame you.”

“This sucks,” he admits, smiling tightly at the floor.

“Can I get you a glass of water for the road? Transit fare?”

“I’d actually rather get out of here and begin the process of trying to forget what Peter’s dick looks like close up as soon as possible.”

She says nothing to champion the dick in question. That would be cruel.

“This was… something I hope we can laugh about someday,” Brad says, and quickly kisses her cheek.

“I’ll—” they say together.

“—text you tomorrow.”

“—see you on Monday,” Michelle says. “Oh. Uh…”

“Space,” he says, understanding.

“Probably good for right now.”

“Yeah.”

When he leaves, she locks the door and bangs her forehead against it. Fuck. She’s going to have to get a new job, isn’t she? Walking in to spot his heartbroken face every day is more than she wants to deal with. Their initiative has a bigger office downtown, not the outpost-like space they work out of. She can apply there. Probably should’ve ages ago, when she started outgrowing the place she’s at. She’ll miss traipsing around outside the city, having to check her legs for ticks, her hair for spiders, and her arms for dead-branch-inflicted scratches deep enough to require infection-preventative measures, but she can buy some fucking plants. Start a garden in her windowsill. Hike on the weekends. Regain some of that thankless grant application time by devoting it to projects more clout will actually allow her to push forward. Be the chooser instead of the beggar.

Michelle laughs at herself, faintly tipsy and two orgasms deep, standing alone in her entryway in a poor man’s frat party toga.

She gets herself the glass of water she offered Brad. She pees with her goddamn adult white sheet scrunched up in her lap like a bride’s dress on her wedding day. She strides back to the bedroom and drops the sheet at the door.

“Hello,” Peter says, perking up.

“Hello yourself.” The man is stark naked and unashamed. “You’ve been, what, chilling?”

“I also eavesdropped.”

“You’re a loser.”

“I’m the loser you haven’t kicked out of your apartment,” he points out. His gaze slips naturally to her chest as she climbs onto the bed on her knees and takes a seat beside his prone body.

“Why is that?”

She asks rhetorically, but Peter either doesn’t pick up on that or ignores it. She kinda likes that about him. Where Brad tries so hard with her, Peter leaves her room to try a little too.

“You like me.”

“Unfortunately, that is possible.”

“Unfortunately? Give me back those orgasms I gave you then,” he demands.

“Orgasm,” Michelle corrects, emphasizing the singular. “The first one was assisted. You can’t take full credit.”

“Bullshit.”

She shakes her head but Peter grabs the back of her knee, pulling her forward, stretching her out, until she’s on her back, laughing, and he’s hovering over her, inches from a kiss that she really, really wants to receive. Strange.

“Is not,” she tells him flatly.

“Then I’m earning that plural.”

“Oh yeah?”

Instead of kissing her or lowering himself down onto her or otherwise touching her in any way at all, Peter leaves. Michelle sits up and looks after him, baffled.

“Where are your washcloths?” he shouts from the bathroom 30 seconds later. A laugh bursts out of her.

“Tall cabinet next to the shower!”

She listens to him running water in the sink. Laughs again when he returns at a run.

“Flip over!” Peter says wildly.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Come on, while it’s still hot. It’ll feel nicer.”

Michelle rolls her eyes and maneuvers onto her stomach. He washes her back with the warm cloth. He washes her back. She folds her arms under her head and pillows her cheek on them, candidly observing him. In a practical sense, Peter’s wiping away what Brad left behind, and buying himself time to get hard again, she’s certain. But it doesn’t all feel like practicality. Not when every pass of the cloth is so careful, or when Peter makes another sprinted trip to the bathroom to heat it up for her, or when he’s lying down alongside her by the end, beginning to lightly kiss her clean skin.

“I don’t understand you,” she hears herself confess.

“I’m an enigma,” he agrees. Michelle snorts.

“I do like you though.”

“Called it.”

He chucks the damp, cooling washcloth over the side of her bed and she glares at him.

“This room has wood floors. Which I pay for. As a feature of this apartment.”

“It’s not on the floor, it’s on my jeans.”

“So, it’s soaking into your jeans right now? That’s convenient for you.”

“Is it?” Peter asks vaguely. His hand is rubbing back and forth very low on her back.

“I’m assuming you’re not planning to get back into wet jeans tonight and make your way home.”

“I would if you asked me to,” he swears, giving her puppy-dog eyes.

“Are you forcing me to say this out loud?”

A winning smile. She sighs in exasperation and turns onto her side, propping her head up with her hand.

“Peter, would you like to stay over?”

“Do you want that?”

“You’re a pain,” she says for the second time. Peter continues smiling, waiting. Michelle takes a deep breath and keeps her eyes on his, not letting her gaze drift around the apartment that is nice but lonely, tranquil but lifeless. It has life with this surprising person in it. “I want that.”

He shuffles close to her with a grin.

“I want that,” he says, brushing his lips across hers.

“Mmm,” Michelle agrees. Her eyelids fall. She parts her lips for his tongue. His hand fits into the curve of her waist and slips over to touch her back. His thickening erection nudges her mons, then her abdomen as he swells against her. Her moan skips and drags and Peter clutches at her more purposefully, tipping her onto her back.

“Condom,” she remembers, and points him to the box tucked out of sight. Discrete for the fact that she bought it for use in a threesome with a work friend and a total stranger.

Peter holds up her copy of Frankenstein, resting beneath the box.

“You a fan?” he asks, returning it to its place and tearing open the wrapper on the condom.

“I’ve read it twice, but I think I prefer Dracula.”

“Aw, I’m a wolfman guy,” Peter offers. He puts the condom on like it’s a sock or a baseball cap; there’s definite familiarity there. And Michelle doesn’t care. “Dracula and Frankenstein’s monster are creepy, sure, but the wolfman is two different people: the regular guy and then this creature in the shadows during the full moon. I don’t know, I think there’s something really cool about that. You ever watch the old Lon Chaney movies?”

Ok, she more than likes him. She likes him quite a lot. Smiling, Michelle shakes her head.

“Well,” he says, but he stops talking then. There’s a depth to the look in his eyes as he gazes at her. She lets him in and stands as horizontal witness to his existence in blinks and breaths and the pound of his heart she can almost feel from here.

“Why don’t you get the light?”

Click.

In the dark, it’s less of a performance, not that Peter doesn’t clearly intend to perform. Michelle’s eyes rest without the light and she breathes deeply as Peter comes over her and kisses her neck. Her eyes are still adjusting while he takes a meandering route down her chest, pressing his mouth harder against her breasts. He licks across her nipple; she scratches her nails up the back of his neck and into his hair. When she lets out the smallest huffing sound of enjoyment, he cups his hand between her thighs, skates a finger along her entrance. As if she wouldn’t be wet. As if the foreplay didn’t start the minute he walked back in with that warm cloth and draped it across her back.

“Any specific requests?” he asks, lifting his head from her chest. She can see his face now. Enough light gets in around the edges of her blinds. She runs her fingers through his loosely curling hair, then arches her body up against his.

“Don’t be gentle.”

Michelle feels the eager tremor of his hand against her inner thigh as he lines himself up and eases inside her. His breathing catches. She tilts her hips and raises her knees from the bed, urging him in, farther, all the way. Peter withdraws and she’s assuming he’ll build up to what she asked for, but he slams back in. Though she clenches her teeth around the sensation of him filling her so hard and so well, a whine escapes.

“You’ve been waiting for this,” she acknowledges, accuses, admires.

He pauses, hands planted to either side of her on the bed.

“Like I said, I’ve heard a lot about you. I’ve been waiting for this since I convinced Brad to tell me your name.”

She wants to think and hide and hold him close, but she can reflect later. He seems to agree. Peter’s thrusts are rough and rhythmic. Pounding into her like a machine one minute, he’ll be playfully grabbing her wrists and licking her neck the next. When she tightens her legs around him, he lets her change their positions, only to haul her beneath him again—on her stomach this time—as he rocks in and out and wedges his hand under her to rub her clit. They chase each other across her mattress and Michelle comes clawing at her pillow, invigorated by the certainty that this is the best time she’s ever had in bed. Peter bites her earlobe as he snatches one of her scrabbling hands and spills into the condom.

He doesn’t help her remake her bed with clean sheets because he claims to be “bad at it.” She’s debating the potential truth of that when he returns with a bowl of popcorn after leaving her alone to do it herself, joins in, and somehow puts a lavender pillowcase on inside out. Michelle sets it right with a laugh and they get back in bed together, popcorn and her laptop playing Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man between them.

She slips away to shower after Peter falls asleep with his head on her lap. When she gets back, she quietly removes the bowl and the laptop. The bed’s a king—she’s used to her space and she doesn’t need to sleep close to him—but Michelle squirms into the warmth his body radiates. He stirs enough to breathe in the scent of her hair, kiss her forehead, and thrust his hand into hers. Confused by the gesture, she frowns at his face, with its softly closed eyes.

“By the way,” Peter mumbles, shaking her hand, “nice to meet you.”

Michelle smiles and pats his arm as he drops it over her, instinctively pulling her close.

#my writing #thotumn #peter parker is a thot #spideychelle #spideychelle fanfiction #peter parker #peter x mj #peter x michelle #peter parker x michelle jones #michelle jones #brad davis #been sitting with this done for almost a month lol

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