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danniburgh · 3 years

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Give you what you want (Javier Peña x f!reader x Horacio Carrillo)

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader x Horacio Carrillo

Summary: You’ve been crushing hard on Javier - and Colonel Carrillo. And when they both find out about it, they can’t help but indulge you.

Word count: +11.1k

Chapter warnings: mild angst, mentions of violence, divorce talk, discussion of polyamorous relationship. OT3 SMUT, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, double penetration, alcohol, a lot of cum lol

A/N: this is a collab between me, @maharani-radha-writes and @queenofthefaceless, okay, yes this is a repost (basically the blog in which this os was posted blocked me). originally posted on april 6th 2021

ao3 // Masterlist // ko-fi

comments and reblogs are eternally appreciated 💓

Carrillo slammed his face on the steering wheel of his car with a groan. He had just spent all day in court finalizing his divorce—which had been going on for months—and just as he had gotten home, he realized that he had forgotten his service pistol at the office. Something he was not allowed to bring in the courtroom.

Fuckers.

He had separation anxiety from it, so even though he had multiple spares in the house, he had one trusty weapon, and he wouldn’t be caught dead without it. He glanced at the clock, and saw that it was only eight o’clock, so it wasn’t too late for him to swing back to base and grab it. Shaking his head, he turned the ignition of his car back on and reversed out of his driveway to head back to the station.

When he got there, he used his keys to enter through the back doorway, not really wanting to have to greet the guards at the front. He was just… way too done with people that day. Although he and his by then ex-wife had separated amicably (or as amicably as it could get), the divorce had taken a huge toll on him. He and Juliana had separated about five months before, and he had spent that time sitting in lawyers’ conference rooms, arguing over this and that. He was ready to just give her everything and anything she wanted if it meant he could get that painful process over with.

Truth be told, Carrillo was lonely. He had been for a long time, even while he was still married to Juliana. They had been less of a married couple and more like roommates for the past year at least, and it was getting to them both. His job was tough and dangerous–Juliana didn’t understand a lot of it. To be fair, he kept most of it from her, but that got exhausting after a while. He longed to just...let go, and he couldn’t do that with her. And after a while, she had decided that staying married to him (and his job) was more trouble than it was worth. He couldn’t blame her, not one bit.

It didn’t matter any more. He had firmly closed that chapter of his life, and was ready to move on. He didn’t know what the future looked like for him, but the only thing that he was sure of was that Pablo Escobar would be dead. He would make sure of it–even if he died trying.

After finding his service pistol, which had been stuffed in a holster under his desk, Carrillo closed the door to his office, and proceeded to walk down the hallway to the back exit. But he stopped when he heard voices coming from the bullpen.

Odd.

He hadn’t seen anyone when he had come in. He turned slightly and strained his ears to try to see if he could discern who it was. Then he heard the distinct Southern American drawl of none other than Steve Murphy. The man had been pulling late nights in the office ever since his wife got up and left him.

“All right, kiddo, care to tell me what the fuck your problem is?”

Who–? Was “kiddo”? It certainly couldn’t be Peña. It was a Friday night, surely Peña was off….doing something (or someone) else.

“What’s my problem? What’s your problem, Murph?”

Oh, it was you. The lone female agent of the DEA. Carrillo had been quite wary of you when you had joined the team about a year before. He really wasn’t sure what, if anything, you would be bringing to the table. And he thought that having two DEA agents was two too many already. But over time, you had proven to be a strong, capable, and intelligent partner, and his respect for you had grown.

Bringing you to Colombia had been a good decision, on the part of your superiors.

Now that he had identified the two people still stuck in the base, he should have been satisfied and been on his way. But something about Steve’s tone of voice kept him rooted to the spot. He really, really shouldn’t have been eavesdropping, especially since he was sure that it was a conversation he was not meant to hear.

“You’re on edge. A lot more than usual,” Steve said, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, Steve. Just drop it,” you grumbled.

“Oh, so there is something?” Steve snarked, “Look, I normally would back off and leave you alone, but you’ve been highly distracted lately. And it’s affecting your work. I need to know what’s up or at least confirm that you’re going to get this resolved soon because we need your head in the game.”

Now that Steve mentioned it, Carrillo had noticed that you were...not yourself. And you hadn’t been for a while. But Carrillo was too caught up in his own drama to give it much of a thought.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed, “I’ll try not to be so scatterbrained. I’ll fix it, I promise.”

“Is this what I think it is? The thing you told Connie that I’m not supposed to know about?” Steve asked.

Carrillo knew he absolutely needed to leave. That was not a conversation he should be listening to. But he just could not help it.

“You’re going to have to be more specific, Steve. I’ve told Connie a lot of things,” you chuckled, nervously.

“I mean about–” there was a pause, presumably Steve looking around to check that nobody was there, “–your feelings. For, uh, ya know, Peña?”

Oh. That was news.

“And–uh–Carrillo I think?” Steve continued.

Wait...what?

Carrillo whipped his head around so fast that he winced as his neck twinged in protest. Since when...since when did you have feelings? For him? And Peña? What was happening? Someone needed to shoot him because that could not be real.

“Must you say it aloud?” you hissed.

“I’m sorry, kiddo, I don’t mean to embarrass you,” Steve apologized, “And normally I would mind my own fucking business, but this is getting out of hand. You really don’t think I notice the cows’ eyes you make at Peña when he’s not looking?”

“I don’t do that!” you denied, indignantly.

“Okay fine, maybe that’s a bit dramatic,” Steve conceded, “But the point still stands. You definitely need to get this fixed. Have you thought, oh I don’t know, telling Peña? Or even Carrillo?”

“Are you crazy?” you stammered, “Do you have any idea what that would do to my career? Not to mention that Carrillo is...fucking married?”

“Well, he’s divorced now,” Steve clarified, “And nobody has to know. It’s nobody else’s business but yours. I’m just saying, think about it ok? You deserve an outlet, just like everyone else.”

Carrillo decided that it was best to not stay and hear what you had to say to that. Instead, he hightailed it out of the base, as quickly as he could, trying to keep his footsteps light so as not to alert you and Steve to his presence. Once he was finally in the safety of his car, he put his head back onto the seat and let out a long breath, trying to figure out what he was going to do with that information. He couldn’t deny that the idea of you having feelings for him was incredibly flattering. You were a very guarded individual and quite hard to read sometimes–not so dissimilar to him. He would have never, in a million years, guessed that you would be interested in him, and that was mostly due to your closed off persona.

But to find out that you had feelings for both him and Peña? That was an interesting development. Carrillo didn’t know how to feel about that. But he can’t deny that it intrigued him...more than it should have. His mother would be completely mortified if she found out that he was entertaining this--whatever it was.

But his mother was not here. His wife was gone, and had taken the kids with her. It was just him, and his large house. And now, apparently, you and possibly Peña. Carrillo tilted his head contemplatively and started the ignition of his car.

Maybe...just maybe, there was something to this whole charade.

**Scene Break 1**

Steve was tired. Scratch that, he was exhausted. Not physically, but mentally.

Javier had been looking at you for far too long, and Steve could taste the yearning and the tension that lingered around the office when Peña looked at you. It was maddening, and Steve had no idea how Peña had managed this long without jumping you. After all, he never seemed to have a problem getting a woman’s attention and keeping it. So, why were you so different?

And the worst part of this whole circus is that you were so blissfully unaware of it. It made Steve’s mouth foam with rage.

When he told Connie over the phone, the previous night, what you had said to him and how you had confessed to being attracted to both men, she actually convinced him to talk to Javi on your behalf. Because Connie knew you, and she knew you would just shut up about it, guard it as if you were a dragon with a treasure, never say a thing, and suffer in silence until your feelings went away. And if they didn’t. Too bad. Steve hadn’t wanted to get involved. After all, you were an adult, and Javier was an adult. You should be able to sort these things out yourself. But alas, that had not happened. And if Steve didn’t do something about it, it was going to get out of hand, quickly.

So when you got up from your desk and got out of the office, Steve walked to Javier and slammed his hand on a pile of files that Javier was almost hiding behind.

“Yes, Murphy, how can I help you?” Peña drawled, trying to keep his voice as even and unaffected as possible.

“Don’t give me that innocent bullshit, Peña,” Steve growled, “I’m so sick of you.”

“What could I have possibly done now?” Javier huffed, pulling a cigarette out of his pack and lighting it. He figured that if he played dumb, Steve would go away.

Alas.

“You, and her,” Steve said, emphasizing his point by jabbing his finger in the direction of the door you had just walked out of, “There’s something between the two of you. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

Javier decided not to answer that. Instead he just took a puff of his cigarette and stared at Steve, daring him to continue.

“I’m serious Peña, stop playing coy. This is starting to affect your working relationship, and I’m getting sick of it,” Steve grumbled, “Do something about it. Now.”

It took a few moments of silence, but Javier finally decided to concede to Steve. Truth was, Javier’s head was full of thoughts. Full of you. Truth be told, getting infatuated with you was just a matter of time.

You were just… frustratingly attractive, incredibly strong and so damn smart. A dangerous combination, you were almost perfect. And that, scared the shit out of him. It had been a long time since Javier felt like that; he didn’t like the vulnerability of it all, he didn’t like how it was way too apparent that whatever you did, for small that it was, affected him in some way. He didn’t like the fact that he wanted to be with you all the time, see you all the time, talk to you all the time. He wanted to protect you all the time even when he knew you could perfectly protect yourself. And he had been feeling like that for months.

Javier interpreted that as karma, getting so madly, deeply into you and getting absolutely nothing in return. Until Steve chimed in, nosy as ever, to speak about something that was clear as a water drop but he just kept denying from himself.

He replayed what Steve had told him while he puffed from his cigarette and for a split second, and let himself smile at the words of his partner.

Steve was right. He was aware of how much he had been missing and how affected his job seemed to be because of how much time he spent thinking about you. It was so unlike him, and it was very unprofessional. But he just couldn’t help it.

You and your strikingly beautiful being. You letting him hold you close. You, with your hands on him. You and how sweet your lips must taste. You and how your naked body must look in the dimmed lights of his bedroom. Fuck.

So he decided, after his partner all but scolded him about being too dumb to realize, that he was going to face you and just… make things happen.

Steve smiled to himself while looking down at a file when Javier stood up from his own desk and walked out of the office.

“Attaboy,” he mumbled to himself.

**Scene Break 2**

You weren’t sure what it was, but suddenly the air in that bullpen had become oppressive, and you just needed to get out. Well, frankly...you weren’t stupid. You knew what was causing you to feel this way. It was stupid Steve and his stupid way of being right all the time, how the fuck did he do that? At some point, you were going to have to tell Javier (and possibly Carrillo, as well) how you felt, but if you could put it off for longer, you were absolutely going to do so.

You sat on the concrete wall bordering the police base, observing quietly as the citizens of Medellín went about their day, getting lunch and catching up with their colleagues. There was a man selling arepas just a few feet from you, and the smell was amazing. But no matter how tantalizing the scent was, you just couldn’t bring yourself to eat. All you needed was some air. Yeah, that’s what you needed. You’d be fine after a few moments.

Unfortunately, your peace wasn’t to last long, and as you were soon to discover, your observational skills would need a check up because Colonel Horacio Carrillo himself had just plopped himself next to you, and you hadn’t even noticed. Carrillo, for his part, waited a few moments before clearing his throat, startling you from your thoughts, and successfully getting your attention.

Ah shit.

One of the exact men that you didn’t want to deal with right now was sitting right next to you.

Joy.

“Those arepas look fantastic,” he remarked in that lovely accent you really liked, “Do you want one?”

You shook your head.

“No thank you,” you mumbled, “I’m fine.”

Carrillo hummed.

“I’m sure we could find something else if you would prefer. There’s all kinds of food in Medellín,” he replied. But you refused again.

“No, really, I’m fine. I don’t want any food,” you said.

Carrillo tilted his head and clasped his hands together, leaning forward slightly. He gave a small, almost imperceptible smirk, and if you didn’t know him so well, you would have missed it.

“I see,” he observed, amusedly, “So, then, Agent. What do you want?”

You frowned, and furrowed your eyebrows. What...what was he doing?

“I–I don’t want anything,” you replied, completely flabbergasted.

“Hmmm,” Carrillo began, “I don’t believe you. I think you want something.”

You raised your eyebrows at that. You’d never known the Colonel to be so bold.

“I want Escobar dead,” you quipped, “Same as you, I suppose.”

“Ah yes, I certainly want that,” Carrillo agreed, “But I want something else. Something that I imagine might be the same as you.”

You scratched the back of your neck, nervously, not sure where this was going.

“All right, Colonel, I’ll bite. What is it that you want?” you questioned.

Carrillo adjusted his position on the wall, turning so that he was facing you squarely. He looked you straight in the eyes before taking a deep breath, as if he was working up the courage to say something.

“You.”

You felt the air leave your lungs, Carrillo’s face was a puzzle laid before you but before you could say something else, you heard a deep, timbered voice calling your name.

You reluctantly turned around and saw Peña walking up to the both of you, you felt Carrillo shift beside you and let out a sigh, as if he knew something like that would happen.

“I was looking for you,” Javier mumbled, almost as if he didn’t want anyone else to hear but you.

“So, you found me,” your voice was shaky after the Colonel’s admission, and you tried to control it “What?”

“Can we–uh–talk?” he said, and you looked back at Carrillo.

“Can it wait?” you pleaded.

“No,” Javier declared.

“I think I know what this is about,” Carrillo announced, and you frowned at him, asking with your eyes for him to elaborate. But he just stayed quiet, looking between you and Peña.

“What do you mean?” Javier huffed, “This is a private conversation that I need to have with her.”

“I think we all need to have this conversation,” Carrillo mumbled, looking at the ground for half a second before returning his gaze to you and Javier.

“What are you two on?” you asked, frantically, “I am so confused.”

Javier glanced at the Colonel, at the way he was all but shifting around like a nervous kid. He realized Carrillo moved like he was hiding something, like he had a secret he so wanted to confess.

“Do you know something?” Javier questioned him, furrowing his brow. The Colonel turned to study him and there was a small moment in which they said nothing, and their eyes just locked.

And there, Javier saw him, as he was. Colonel Horacio Carrillo was an honorable man, everyone knew that, but as he was honorable he was dark, and Javier had a small suspicion of what he knew and was badly hiding.

Javier felt himself smirk at the man and Carrillo smirked back, and Javi knew it. Because he never misses things like that. For him is like having a sixth sense, somehow enhanced by his career and his experience. He just knows. Javier had never been indifferent to men. After all, being honest with himself, he had a little crush on Steve before he saw the wedding band. And Carrillo was… just his type. He never thought he would have the chance to even get closer to the Colonel like that. In the end, the time was not right and he was quite sure Carrillo wasn’t like that.

Clearly, he had been mistaken.

“Okay you two, I’ve had enough,” you grumbled, “What is going on? I’m sick of these games.”

“This is not a game,” Carrillo said, finally looking at you, you felt your frown get deeper.

“Then what is it?” you demanded.

Javier shrugged and took one last look at Carrillo, as if to confirm his consent, and replied.

“An arrangement,” he deadpanned, “With both of us.”

“If you want it,” Carrillo added, quickly.

You shot up from the wall you were sitting on and turned to glare at both of them. Javier put his hands on his waist and leaned on a leg, and Carrillo stood up as well, clasped hands in front of him, just waiting for you to say something. Anything.

Javier glanced nervously at Carrillo from the corner of his eye, searching his face for any sign of hesitation. I hope this is gonna go how you were planning, Carrillo, he thought, Because if it doesn’t and she refuses to speak to me again after this...I swear to god–

“Where did you get this idea?” you blabbered, feeling the sting of nervousness and insecurity settling into your stomach. Along with something else in your lower belly you refused to acknowledge at all.

Javier sighed, and shook his head.

“Steve Murphy has a big mouth,” he murmured.

“Dios mío,” you exclaimed, “He told you both?”

“Well, he told me,” Javier said, running a hand through his hair, “I don’t know about our Colonel over here.”

Now it was Carrillo’s turn to look sheepish.

“No, he didn’t say anything to me,” Carrillo admitted, “I overheard the two of you talking the other day.”

“You eavesdropped on me?” you gasped, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Is nothing I say private?”

Carrillo at least had the grace to look ashamed.

“It was an accident,” he tried to assure you, “But–I don’t regret listening in. I haven’t stopped thinking about it. About you.”

You scrubbed your face with your hands, trying to figure out what you were going to do. It wasn’t that you were–unhappy–more so embarrassed. You’d been carrying this secret for a long time now, and to have it so out in the open made you feel more exposed than ever. And you hated the feeling.

“I’m gonna need a minute,” you said, “Can we talk about this later? I need some space.”

Without waiting for a response, you briskly walked away from the police base and in the direction of the city. You weren’t sure where you were going or when you were going to be back. All that you knew was that your privacy had been massively violated, and you needed some space to collect yourself. Alone. And perhaps when you had calmed down, you could think about Carrillo and Peña’s proposal, like a functioning adult. But right now, you were too embarrassed (and aroused, let’s be real), to think straight.

Javier turned aside to look at Carrillo when your figure had disappeared into the city.

“So,” Javier broke the not-so-awkward silence, “Are you okay with this?”

Carrillo huffed at the question and glanced at the agent, noticing in him things he hadn't noticed before.

“Are you?”

Javier felt his stomach drop at the Colonel’s question… interesting.

“I’m all in,” he replied, smirking at Carrillo.

“Yo también.”

**Scene Break 3**

It was later in the afternoon by the time you had calmed down enough to return to work. You couldn’t believe what had happened today. You absolutely wanted to smack Steve. What you had told him was in confidence, and he had broken that trust. But you couldn’t deny that you were happy with the result. The idea of having even just one of those two men was enough to get you going, but both?

Men like them?

The pool of arousal was already forming in between your legs.

You could not deny how much you had wanted this, and how much you had been dreaming about it. And for a very long time. For god’s sake, you had lost sleep over this shit. It made you feel dirty, filthy, unprofessional. But you just couldn’t help it. You’d done a decent enough job of keeping your feelings in check, but now the cat was out of the bag.

And not only did these two men know how you felt. Apparently, they felt the same way. And for some godforsaken reason, they wanted you.

Were you really going to say no to an opportunity like that? Were you truly that stupid? No matter how much you were angry with Steve.

Connie would lose her shit when you'd call her to tell her about her husband’s work.

You walked into the bullpen and saw the office door opened, the first thing you saw was Javier’s face buried inside a file, his posture rigid and his hands grasping at the folder as if it were a lifeline.

He looked up and his eyes went wide when he saw you walk in.

But then you saw Murphy, sitting like nothing had happened and you saw red. You rushed at him and without a word your hand flew and you smacked him on the back of the head.

“What the fuck?” he yelled, and you heard Javier laughing behind you.

“You asshole,” you hissed, “Exactly what made you think it was a good idea to tell him? I trusted you to keep your mouth shut.”

“Excuse me,” Steve groaned, rubbing the back of his head, “I did you a fucking favor. I got tired of hanging around with you two idiots, just looking at each other and not saying shit.”

“You should not have done that,” you growled, fixing him with what you hoped was your most intimidating glare.

“Perhaps not,” Steve shrugged, “But I don’t regret it.”

“Can I–say something?” Javier asked behind you.

“No. Shut up.” you hissed without looking back at him.

“You do something like this again, and I’ll kill you,” you threatened Steve before storming out of the base, and into the parking lot. You sat in the driver’s seat of your car and banged your head against the steering wheel. You had had every intention of finding Peña and Carrillo and taking them up on their offer, but now all feelings of boldness had been once again replaced by shame and embarrassment. No doubt you were the talk of the police base, what with your massive crush on two of your colleagues.

Although you knew it was irrational, you couldn’t help but feel as though Carrillo and Peña were making fun of you. You knew it was stupid. Both of them were grown-ass men. They wouldn’t be so immature. If they didn’t like you at all, they would have just left you alone. But you just couldn’t help the raging insecurity you were feeling. Perhaps if you had actually told both of them, directly, how you felt, rather than let Steve Murphy do the hard work, then maybe you wouldn’t be feeling this way.

But that was all water under the bridge now, you supposed.

Later that night, you were heating up a pitiful TV-dinner in your apartment, not feeling up to eating, but you needed something, when your phone rang. You froze with the fork halfway to your mouth. There were only a handful of people who had your landline number, and even then, only a few of those people would have the guts to actually call it. This wasn’t going to be a fun conversation.

Sighing, you trudged over to the phone and lifted the receiver to your ear.

“¿Sí?” you asked, quietly, and you heard the low voice of Colonel Carrillo on the other end.

“It’s me,” he said softly, “You left work rather abruptly. I called to see if you were fine.”

“As fine as I can be, given the circumstances,” you grumbled.

“I’m sorry that things transpired the way they did, truly,” Carrillo mumbled, sounding genuinely apologetic, “But I meant it when I said I don’t regret finding out.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” you snarked, “You’re not the one whose colleague breached her trust.”

There was a pause before Carrillo spoke again.

“Do you regret it?”

Now it was your turn to pause, contemplating your words and how you would respond. You didn’t want to hurt him, but at the same time, you wanted to make it clear that you weren’t pleased with the means---even if the end was fantastic.

“I regret how this started,” you replied, slowly, not trusting yourself to say anything further.

Carrillo hummed over the line, contemplating your words.

“I can’t blame you for that,” he said, “But forget about Steve for a moment, please. Have you thought about it?”

You inhaled and held your breath for ten counts, trying to calm down your racing heart. You couldn’t deny that just the mere thought of being in the same room with these two men, especially in a non-platonic setting, was difficult for you.

“I think you know the answer to that, Colonel. You aren’t stupid,” you quipped, “Have you discussed this with Peña? I must admit, I am surprised at you both. This doesn’t seem like something either of you would be interested in.”

“We’ve discussed this, absolutely,” Carrillo said, recalling the deeper conversation he had with Peña earlier that day after you had slapped Steve, “I think we’ve both surprised ourselves, if I’m being honest. But if the attraction is there, it’s there. But I want you to know, there is no pressure. This only goes as far as you want it to go.”

You frowned at that.

“What do you mean?” you pressed.

“Querida,” he sighed, “What happens between the three of us–well–Peña and I know where we stand–it’s up to you now. If you don’t want this, then just say the word. We’ll pretend this conversation never happened.”

You took a shuddering breath and tried to respond as best as you can.

“I–”

“You don’t have to give me an answer now,” Carrillo interrupted gently, “Think about it. Make sure it’s what you want. Then you can let us know.”

“I–ok,” you stuttered, for lack of a better response.

“I should leave you to your evening. But think about it, and let me know what you decide ,” Carrillo said, “Have a good night, querida.”

“Sure, good night, Colonel,” you mumbled, hearing the click on the other end, indicating that Carrillo had hung up.

You passed the rest of the evening in relative silence, going about your mundane business with an extra air of heaviness. Slowly you could feel the embarrassment from the day give way to desire. As you lay by yourself in your bed, clutching at your pillow, you couldn’t help the acute sense of loneliness that you felt. After all, you hadn’t really had anyone before you came to Colombia, and your job here certainly killed whatever chance of having a relationship you might have had. It was why you had so easily fallen for both of your colleagues.

You were lonely. And they were lonely too. But it wasn’t just out of loneliness. You’d seen what Peña was like when he just wanted to have a warm body next to him. Just as it had taken courage for you to confess how you felt to Steve, it must have taken just as much strength for Carrillo and Peña to admit the same to you. This wasn’t going to be a one time thing–born out of isolation and tragedy–it would be something much more meaningful than that. You could feel it.

You glanced at the clock, seeing that it was just past midnight. Although you knew that Carrillo usually stayed up late, you didn’t want to bother him, so you dialed the number of the only other person who you knew would be up this late.

“Hello?” Javier Peña gruffed on the other end, clearly annoyed at having been woken up.

“Javier, it’s me,” you said, by way of greeting. You heard some rustling of bedsheets, no doubt Javier was fully awake now.

“Are you all right?” he asked, concern coloring his tone.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you assured him, “I just–I’ve thought about your offer. Yours and Carrillo’s.”

You heard a sharp intake of breath over the phone.

“And what do you say, cariño?” he questioned, hope ringing in his voice.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself.

“Yes. I’m saying yes.”

**Scene Break 4**

You sat inside Javier’s car, silently, as he drove the two of you through the streets of Medellín towards Carrillo’s address. It was a Friday–exactly a week from when Carrillo had overheard you talking to Steve, and you were completely floored at how your life had changed that fast. You didn’t regret anything though, not one bit.

You were nervous though. Having one of these men was enough to make you swoon, but both? You weren’t sure what was going to happen. All you knew is that it would be a fantastic night. You just hoped that you could keep up.

A hand on your knee brought you back to the present, and you glanced over to see that Javier was eyeing you out of the corner of his eye as he drove.

“Relax, cariño,” he ordered, “It’s just us.”

You laughed.

“I know, that’s what I’m worried about,” you said, jokingly. But Javier wasn’t having it.

“Why would that make you nervous?” he asked, turning to face you when you had stopped for a red light.

“You two are my friends and colleagues,” you stated, “I don’t–want to disappoint you. Especially since we will have to go back to work after the weekend.”

Javier shook his head and pressed down harder on the accelerator, hoping that if he got you to Carrillo’s place faster, you’d stop your fatalistic thoughts.

“None of that,” he grumbled, shutting down your line of thinking as quickly as he could, “What happens between us tonight stays between us. That’s it. No pressure or expectations. Just enjoy yourself, okay?”

You nodded, not quite trusting yourself to speak. And thankfully, you didn’t have to say anything because you and Javier finally pulled up in front of Carrillo’s house. It was a much larger property than you had expected, with a beautifully-kept lawn and a mango tree just at the front of the house. It was a stunning place to live, and the thought that Carrillo had been staying there alone, with nobody to share it with, for the past several months just left you heartbroken.

Well. That was likely about to change tonight.

“You’re still sure, cariño?” Javier asked, taking your hand in his and staring at your knuckles, “If you’ve changed your mind, I can drive you back now. No questions asked.”

You shook your head.

“I’m completely sure, Javi. Don’t worry,” you assured him, and Javier nodded.

“Bueno,” he mumbled, “Let’s go.” And with that, the two of you walked up the path to Carrillo’s front door and rang the bell. Carrillo answered almost immediately, face relaxing at the sight of you.

“I hope you didn’t have too much trouble finding the place,” he greeted, stepping back to allow the two of you to enter his house.

“I have some wine if you would like,” Carrillo suggested, leading you and Javier into the kitchen after the two of you had kicked off your shoes.

Carrillo walked straight to the fridge and took out what appeared to be a pretty expensive brand of wine, but neither you nor Javier said anything in regards to it. Instead, you both sat down and exchanged a series of fugitive glances at each other.

You thought you needed the wine, the bitter, strong taste of alcohol to run through your veins in order to be able to process the moment in its entirety. But suddenly, as you glared at both Javier and Carrillo, there was no need for anything else. No liquid distraction to be drunk beforehand, no ridiculous and meaningless pleasantries or comfort words. You knew those men. You trusted them with your life every day when you went out there on the streets, and you trusted them just as much now. Their mere presence was sufficient to relax you and ease the tension, although you thought they would both agree that the tension was thicker than you could’ve imagined.

“I trust you both, and I care about you both, so damn much.”

It came out of the blue; you weren’t even sure you thought about it in your mind, and yet you said it nonetheless, standing up. Both of them seemed a little surprised by your impromptu confession, but patiently waited for your continuation, if there was any to begin with.

“What I mean is… why make this harder on ourselves? Why bother with small talk and awkward conversations when we can just… do it, enjoy the night?”

Javier was the first one who smirked. And of course he would, he was probably used to a lot of those moments, or similar ones, and had almost no issue baring it all, you thought. You swore, for a brief, almost too rushed moment, that you saw Carrillo hesitate with saying something and averting his eyes from both you and Javier, but you brushed it off. Instead, he looked tall and mighty at you, as his official position required, and smiled gallantly at you.

“You are the one in charge tonight,” he told you.

Simple, yet effective.

From the moment you heard that sentence, it did something to your ego. It gave you an unexpected boost of confidence, it sparked a desire, a flame so bright and hot you wouldn’t have believed it to be true in any other situation.

You took a few steps closer to Carrillo, all the while having Javier watch the scene unfold from the kitchen entrance. He stood up when you did, out of some long-forgotten courtesy that he didn’t used to care about anymore, and he just knew where it was all headed. He recognized the look in your eyes, the longing on your face. He knew what it meant, how much it must’ve consumed you, and he felt oddly enticed and captivated by it.

Just as swiftly as the night began, Carrillo’s hands rested on your waist while he kissed you. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he only brought you closer to him; his lips tasted surprisingly sweet, with just a faint tint of nicotine. Your chest was pressed against his, warm clothed skin found yours and you shivered against him. His hands gripped your waist as if saying farewell to them and he slid them up your body. You could feel Peña’s eyes fixed in your bodies, staring at the scene, and when the Colonel broke the kiss to nibble at your neck, you opened your eyes to see him next to you; half-lidded brown deep eyes, an opened bottle of wine in one hand and his lower lip in the other. Your skin was burning, and you had barely been touched.

You smiled at him when Carrillo took your jacket off, Peña smirked and took a sip of wine directly from the bottle, careless about any pleasantries.

Carrillo’s wet tongue latched softly at your pulse point and ripped a low moan out of you, you closed your eyes again when his hands gripped your ass over the fabric of your jeans.

“Colonel, please,” you muttered, sighing as you felt his large hands had fun with your flesh and grip it after hearing the way you called him.

“Words, querida” he just replied, putting some distance between your wet skin and his lips.

“More,” you bit your lip, Carrillo smirked at you and you noticed the way his eyes darkened with desire in front of you. He turned to look at Javier, who was still standing at the kitchen entrance, palming his erection over his jeans.

“Bring that,” Carrillo said, pointing at the bottle, then slid his hand from your ass to the small of your back and guided you towards the staircase.

Between your hazed eyes and the cloud of lust that had begun to invade your mind you looked around Carrillo’s space and wondered how a man like him could live in a place that big. You smiled to yourself when he put his hand on the small of your back and soon enough Peña caught up to you, you felt his ever so imposing presence behind you.

Carrillo opened the door to the bedroom and pushed you softly inside.

You didn’t even have time to take your surroundings in when you felt a pair of warm hands find your hips and a set of lips grazing at your earlobe. Your eyes closed by themselves and the sweet, strong smell of Javier’s cologne invaded your nostrils as he pulled your back flush against his chest.

“Sh–shit,” you let out, half a whisper, half a moan, when you felt Carrillo’s hands roam around your waist.

You were losing yourself between the touch of the two of them, you shivered when Carrillo cupped your breast as Javier nibbled at the skin of your neck, from behind, you tilted your head to the side to give him more room to do whatever–the–fuck he pleased with your neck.

“Mírate, chiquita,” Carrillo whispered, you felt his breath on your lips and when you re-opened your eyes you saw him inches away from your face “you’re already wrecked.”

You felt Javier chuckling against your flushed skin, and you bit your lower lip, bringing a hand to the Colonel’s nape to pull him closer and kiss him again.

One of Javier’s hands found itself under your shirt, his mouth was moving and his other hand pulled softly at your shirt over your shoulder to find more skin to lick and kiss. Carrillo found the hem of your shirt and broke the kiss to look at you, as if asking for permission and reassurance that you wanted what he wanted. Javier watched the silent exchange and smirked against the skin of your shoulder, he gave it a last brush of his mustache and a last kiss before you nodded to the Colonel and he helped you out of the garment.

Carrillo smiled to himself when he saw what you’ve been hiding under it, a black, only-lace bra that showed the shade of your nipples, you bit your lip again when you took in his disheveled figure, his notorious erection under his military green pants that made the pool between your legs grow.

“How are you this fucking beautiful?” Javier muttered behind you, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses behind your ear to your nape.

Your breath hitched when Carrillo kneeled in front of you and you felt your chest heaving with desire when his large fingers dextrely unbuttoned your jeans and his thumbs hooked on the hem. He looked at you again and you nodded for a second time. Javier looked over your shoulder at the Colonel slowly sliding your jeans off your hips then your legs and he left his hands roam around the now naked skin of your torso. Your hands landed on the back of his head, and he took the hint, attacking the skin of your neck once again.

Carrillo threw your jeans away once he helped you out of them and you moaned loudly when his lips grazed against your knee. One of your hands dropped to grab Carrillo’s head as his trail of kisses moved up, up, up until he reached the soft skin where your thigh and your hip joined. You were sure he could smell your arousal, you were sure he could feel it at that point and you didn’t care, for once you let yourself only feel and let all thought out of your mind while you felt two mouths, two men, take care of you.

There was no hesitation from Javier’s side as his fingers gently grazed up your spine, expertly unclasping your bra, taking in the image of the straps loosening on your smooth skin. He was damn near panting at the mere sight, but he had to remind himself that that was only the tip of the iceberg. The moans you were letting escape your mouth as Carrillo pressed gentle kisses on your inner thighs aided him in no way. He felt himself get harder and harder and fought off raging instincts to turn that moment into another one of his one-night stands.

Javier made sure he tasted your skin while he took the straps from both sides between his fingers and slid them off your shoulders, he felt you shivering under his hands and over Horacio’s mouth and you could feel the smirk on your skin, once the bra came off, Javier took your chin and moved your head to face him, he pressed his mouth on yours, his tongue hungry for your scent, invading your cavities and feeling your warmth rush through his body with the speed of light. Everything about your scent was intoxicating and consuming, and ever so addicting that he could barely find it in himself to stop.

But then his calloused hands found your breasts and oh–oh, shit.

That first squeeze, tantalizingly slow and powerful, took you out completely. You gasped, and you weren’t sure if it was Horacio’s warm breath in between your legs or Javier fondling your breasts, but you embraced the overwhelming effect both had on you. Javier squeezed again, and moved around to locate the sweet torture of his mouth onto your nipples, taking one in his mouth whilst his thumb moved over the other one, twisting it in between his fingers as he nibbled at your skin. His tongue left a glistening trail as he peppered kisses in between your breasts, moving up your sternum, collarbones and neck and focusing on one particular spot that seemed to drive you wild. So much so that you reached behind your back to grab a handful of his hair, pull him in closer however you could.

“Lay her down, Peña,” Carrillo cooed, and the man followed suit.

You saw the Colonel untuck his shirt and take it off while Javier kneeled on the bed and helped you lay down on it, the softness of the sheets embraced you and the coldness made you whimper softly.

It was a premiere for him to witness Javier Peña, of all people, being so submissive and attentive, but he had other matters to focus on at the moment. His mouth left your already glistening and plump lips to grab the bottle of wine, your eyes followed him as you felt Carrillo’s hands spread your legs open and kiss the inside of your legs again, Javier came back to the bed and kneeled next to you, his hand gripping the bottle and the other cupping your face, he smiled softly at you and took a sip from the bottle; you moaned when Carrillo’s hands worked to get you out of your lace panties and Javier leaned down to you, the hand that cupped your face moved to your chin and he opened your mouth with his thumb, letting the wine pour from his mouth to yours, the wine was warm and it tasted sweet, when you closed your mouth and swallowed, Javier’s thumb grazed your lips and you heard a hard pant next to you, you turned to see Carrillo’s lusted face, you gave him a soft smile and he all but threw himself to you, kissing your mound, you moaned again and Javier leaned back, bringing the chilled bottle closer to your body, letting the tip of it graze against your warm skin, between the cold sensation and Carrillo’s lips tasting you, you were about to scream, Javier looked at you, smirked and pour some of the wine all over your breasts and abdomen, immediately reaching down on your again to lick the liquid off. A bit of the wine had traveled down your abdomen to your lower belly and found its way into Carrillos mouth, the feeling of the cold wine and their tongues made you growl. You had two pairs of equally sinful and skilled lips teasing and licking deliciously well over your exposed skin, and you had half of mind to grab either one of them and get to business. You couldn’t recall the last time you felt so aroused, but it was all a masterful torture and all for a good time. If anyone else was allowed to have their downtime, why shouldn’t you?

It was somewhat futile to even attempt to please either one of the men in return; their own pleasure seemed to be revolving around yours and they were both doing such an incredible job out of it that you had a hard time trying to keep track of where did the waves of pleasure come from anymore. It was all one big tsunami of feelings, from overstimulation to lust and appreciation and love in some form.

Carrillo continued his ministrations while Javier licked the remains of the wine from your body, his tongue traveled to your sternum and he took a nipple on his mouth ever so briefly, then he stood up and quickly undressed, not bothering to be cool about it, he just threw his clothes to the floor while he looked at Horacio have the time of his life between your legs, you let out soft moans and whispers and while Javier took off his jeans he saw your hand grip Carrillo’s hair as your hips hatched against the Colonel’s face. You felt his tongue flicking your clit and he pushed a thick finger inside you, curling it around, building you up and throwing you off the cliff with the same force he had put you there. You came on his mouth with his name on yours.

As you laid on the bed, legs spread for Carrillo as he helped you ride off your orgasm, Javier kneeled back on the bed next to your face, his hand snaked its way around your neck, gently grabbing both sides and helping you take his erection in your mouth, which you were more than happy to do. You could tell he was somewhat tensed: he was doing his absolute best to control his motions and to keep it at a normal rhythm, but the more you involuntarily groaned as Carrillo began to glide his tongue across your slit once again, building up your second climax, the more Javier was slowly losing bits and pieces of himself. Within seconds, you could just tell you weren’t gonna last long, but neither would Javier as he picked up the face and jerked his hips forward more and more, thus obliging you to take more of him in. You couldn’t explain it, nor find any logic behind the action itself, but you swore you felt his release in Javier’s impatient thrusts and, sure enough, mere seconds later, he finally came, grunting as ropes of his seed dripped down your jaw.

Your moans returned when Carrillo added two fingers to his mouthy torture over your clit, and you felt like you could explode. Not long after that all-too familiar gut feeling, that almost persistent desire to burn, you came for a second time, eager to jerk your hips forward and meet as much as you could of Carrillo’s tongue, but this time, the man’s grip over your thighs was impossible to break. He held you in place ever so expertly and ate you out like you were his favorite five course meal, soaking up every ounce of juice that you provided him with.

You temporarily lost feeling in your arms as you tried to raise them to make at least Javier pay attention, but words also failed to leave your abused mouth.

“Que buena chica,” Carrillo said from somewhere down below. (What a good girl.)

Your brain didn’t register what he said properly. All you could feel was a fire so intense, so vivid, you nearly saw stars. And something told you that was only the beginning.

And you were proven right.

In the momentary lack of physical touch, you thought about the moment itself, having two of the strongest, most desirable men eager to please you–simultaneously, might you add–and the more you thought about it, the more it threw you off completely. Why? You weren’t really sure. Perhaps it was the idea in the back of your mind that you wouldn’t have thought yourself capable of that. Or them, really. The activity hadn’t been exactly on your to-do list over the past few years and yet now, you couldn’t have thought of a better way to figure out your feelings for them, and to spare time.

The freshly acquired ecstasy was not only enthralling, but efficient as well.

After your second orgasm at Horacio’s ministrations you saw him between your lusted, narrowed eyes, undress completely, Javier was next to you, trailing his fingers up and down your wet torso–wet with wine and his saliva, what a fucking thought– while the both of you saw Carrillo take the remains of his clothes off and took in his lean figure, Javier smirked when he saw him whole and thought to himself the things he would do to the man if he had the time.

Javier wrapped his arms around your waist and helped you roll over to the side to face him, licking his bottom lip in the process and made sure you watched as he did so. He had been eyeing you up and down the entire day, whether clothed or not, and every glance he threw you, ever so dark and desirable, filled with subtext and desire, made you weaker and weaker, just like Carrillo’s touches were.

You reached his face and took his lips in yours, his tongue slid inside your mouth and as he explored the insides and his hand grabbed fistfuls of your ass, you felt the bed shifting behind you, and another hand snaked from behind and found your breast, you were being pressed against and between two bodies and the wam of them was driving you insane, when Carrillo’s fingers played with your nipple you bucked your hips forward and you felt Javier’s erection graze at your lower belly. Javier moved his hand from your ass to your thigh and then he let it slide to your pussy, you bucked your hips backwards and you felt Carrillo’s erection graze at your ass.

“How are you still this wet, bonita?” Javier asked, while his fingers found themselves between your lips.

“Don’t you know the answer by now, Javi?” you muttered, feeling the way Carrillo’s mouth found your shoulders.

You glanced at him and Carrillo the same way Javier looked at you and you understood in an instant why he always preferred to be that way. It was enticing, addicting and sinful, just the way he was.

And by the looks of it, Colonel Horacio Carrillo was no saint either.

“How do you want this to go, chiquita?” Horacio asked behind you as you moved your leg up to allow Javier’s fingers to find a way inside you.

You sighed. Why was he asking you that question when you weren’t even sure something like this would happen? For a brief, brief second you wanted to hide, just grab your clothes and hide. But you found yourself sandwiched between the men that you most desired and you just couldn’t waste this opportunity for the life of you.

So you rummaged around your deepest, filthiest fantasies you’ve had when everything had just been a sinful dream, a product of your lascive thoughts giving into what you catalogued as your darkest secrets and desires and you found one you couldn’t stop think about after it had given you a stars–behind–the–eyes orgasm.

“I want both,” you muttered, feeling the way both men groaned at your sides, “both inside me, please.”

“You sure?” Javier asked, pulling out his fingers from your cunt and looking at the way they glistened, you nodded.

“Words, chiquita,” Horacio said and you turned to see him, he leaned down and stole a short, deep kiss.

“I��m a hundred percent sure,” you murmured against the Colonel’s lips.

“Let’s get you ready, then,” Javier whispered on your neck and you sighed when his fingers slid back into your slit, you closed your eyes when Horacio played your nipples around his fingers and then his hand roamed down your body, finding their way to your pussy.

“Déjame entrar,” Horacio said under his breath, Javier stopped moving his fingers inside you and you squeezed your eyes tighter when Carrillo slid two more fingers inside your cunt.

“Fu–fuck, fuck,” you gasped, Javier let open mouthed kisses around your face and the skin of your neck within reach while your walls tightened around their thick fingers.

“You okay?” Javier asked and you nodded a few times before your body relaxed and got used to the intrusion.

“Mo–move,” you pleaded, feeling Horacio’s mouth nibbling at your shoulder and your neck.

Javier and Horacio moved their fingers at the same time inside you, looking at each other as if marking a dancing pace. You didn’t know what to do with yourself as they moved in and out and curled their fingers in all directions inside you, making you moan and whimper and open up more for them as they somehow found an identical pace to torture you with.

“Eso, eso nena, lo estás haciendo muy bien,” Carrillo praised behind you, feeling the way your walls were giving into the attention and dilating around their fingers (That’s it baby, you’re doing great)

“Más,” you pleaded, rolling your hips against their hands “Más, más,”

They grinned at each other, Javier’s eyes landed on your face and took in the way your features quirked in pure pleasure. Their fingers moving at the same time, pacing in and out faster. Javier’s mouth landed on your shoulder and Carrillo only took in the lewd noise his and Javier’s fingers were making as they pulled in and out at a murdering pace.

“Oh, sh–shit,” you bit your lip and tried to hide your face inside the crook of Javier’s neck but Horacio pulled you away with his other hand.

“We wanna hear you, querida.” he whispered behind your ear, you shivered again at the feeling of his warm breath and then it became too much, their fingers were covered in your arousal as you spread your legs impossibly wider as your throat began growling and your hands landed on both of them, digging your nails on their flesh. Javier hissed against your shoulder and Carrillo bit the skin of your mouth, both of them throwing you together from the cliff and your body spasmed between them.

“Oh my god, oh shit, fuck!” you screamed between their bodies and they slowed their pace to help you ride down your climax “please, please, fuck me, please,” you let out, almost desperately, eager to feel the same with them inside you. They slid their fingers out of you and you shivered again.

Your body was already a mess, after three powerful orgasms you were panting for air, the only thing you wanted was them inside you, you wanted to feel every ridge and every vein of them, you wanted; you needed to cum around them both.

“What is taking you so long?” you opened your eyes, quite frustrated at the lack of attention to your bodies, but the sight that you took in was otherworldly.

Carrillo had his fingers, his covered–in–your–arousal fingers inside Javier’s mouth.

“Fuck,” you let out, dropping your head on the mattress, looking at the way Javier grabbed Horacio’s wrist to keep his hand on his mouth and lick them clean of you while Horacio’s deep gaze took Javier in with a smirk adorning his face.

Horacio pulled his fingers out with a soft pop and they both looked at you, panting and brushing a nipple with your fingers.

“Next time you’ll have to put on a show for me,” you teased.

“You’re ready?” Javier asked, leaning down to kiss your temple, you looked at Carrillo and smiled at him as he licked his fingers.

“Very,” you replied, softly, your voice was already hoarse because of the moaning and screaming they had pulled out of you, they got comfortable on each of your side and you took a deep breath when Horacio lifted your leg and hooked it on his hip.

Javier was the first one to tease your entrance with the dripping head of his cock, when you felt it sliding up and down your slit you gasped and as he pushed himself inside you you grabbed his arm and licked any part of his skin available for you.

“Oh my god,” you cried out softly.

Javier was having a hard time staying still when your walls were warm and wet around him, his hands roamed around your body as Carrillo lined himself with you and him as well and then he pushed.

“Holy fucking shit,” you had close your eyes at the feeling of Horacio making his way inside of you, you breathed and panted and tried so hard to relaxe but they were thicker than their fingers and your pussy was clenching already around them. Javier took your hand and you squeezed his as both of them bottomed up inside you.

Horacio put his hands over the entanglement of yours and Javi’s and the three of you gasped and panted until your body stopped squirming between them and your walls stopped closing themselves at the feeling of two thick cocks making their way inside.

Javier had to close his eyes as well when he felt how your cunt clenched him tight closer to Horacio and he felt himself throb inside you, when he opened his eyes he saw you, open mouthed gasps leaving your body as it got used to being that full, and then his eyes traveled to Horacio, that buried himself in the crook of your neck, he supposed he was feeling the same way as him, trapped in a oh–so–tight hole with him.

“Move, move, move,” you all but begged, the initial sting of being filled like that disappearing and being replaced with the darkest, deepest, hottest desire you had ever felt, “fu–fucking move already!”

Horacio smirked against the skin of your neck at your demand and moved slightly to look at Javier, who nodded once and then, murdering pleasure; Javier pulled out and as he was thrusting slowly back in, Horacio pulled out and moved in as Javier moved out and you gasped and the air in your lungs left you for the time being as your cunt was filled with the two men you wanted the most.

It was pleasure delivered in a delicious swing of two hips rocking back and forth, back and forth, back and forth into you, making you impossibly wetter, incredibly hornier, and way too lost in the haze to even care about anything else.

The way that they were fucking you was shameless, the noises were lewd and your moans invaded the room as soon as they picked up the pace and kept driving into you at the same pace but in different directions.

Four hands caressed your body, two sets of lips nibbled at your skin, two tongues tasted the salty sheet of sweat that had covered your body, two thick cocks used your body at their will, making you want to explode; it was an eager combination of feelings and sensations pulled out of the most sensual, lechery, degenerated dreams you could ever had.

“Harder, please, pleasepleaseplease,” you panted out, gripping any skin and limb your hands could find. Your hips started rolling and rolling and rolling with them as they thrusted and pounded inside you.

“Mierda,” Horacio gasped behind you, biting at your skin, making you whimper.

“You’re so fucking tight, so fu–fucking good, baby,” Javier cried out as your pussy clenched around them and you absentmindedly rolled your hips harder.

It was an entanglement of limbs and wet skin, mouths clashing against skin, hands gripping and grabbing available flesh, a swing of bodies and a symphony of licks, kisses, hums, gasps, pants, begs and praises.

“Shit, sh–shit,” you panted harder and clawed at Javier’s arm when you felt the well-familiar tug on your belly of an incoming orgasm, you hummed and moaned and you felt lips in your ear, licking and nibbling at your earlobe, “I’m so close, más,”

Javier gritted his teeth when you demanded more and angled his hips to pound inside harder, Horacio followed his lead, dropping his hand on Javier’s shoulder for leverage. Carrillo’s touch burned in Javier’s skin and he felt his body stiffen with the feeling of his second release.

“Por dios, querida, me estás matando.” Horacio cried out behind you, feeling as well his body falling from the cliff. (My god, you’re killing me)

Javier’s free hand slid through your wet, glistening skin and his finger circled your clit slowly, you screamed his name, your legs buckled and your entire body squirmed with the sea of sensations your body was feeling and flooding with.

“Cum inside me, please, please,” you panted again, feeling the way your legs started to shake as both of their thrust became erratic and Javier’s finger kept circling around your bundle of nerves you exploded around them, gushing out and soaking them as your orgasm made you scream both their names.

“Mierda, querida, mírate,” Horacio grunted before he gave into the lustfulness of it all and came inside you and around Javier.

Once Javi felt the warmness of Carrillo’s release and the way you soaked both of them and his hand, he locked his hips with yours and spilled himself inside as well, gasping out your name.

“Ohmyfuckinggod,” you let out as a sigh, feeling your legs tremble with the strength of your climax.

The three of you stayed like that, joined, for a while. As your bodies relaxed you finally opened your eyes and saw the way Horacio’s hand was resting on Javier’s shoulder, wrapping you as well between them. Both of them breathing heavily, eyes closed, recovering from whatever the hell you had done was called. You sighed and smiled to yourself. If it weren’t for the four orgasms you had and the way your cunt was throbbing after the abuse and dripping with their seed, you wouldn’t believe it was real at all.

“How was that, cariño?” Javier asked, grazing a hand up and down your arm.

“That was–magnificent,” you gushed, not sure how else to describe that positively euphoric experience, “I think–you two have worn me out.”

Horacio chuckled and moved your head to press a kiss to your forehead, and shifted to allow all three of you to lie somewhat comfortably under the covers. You whined when they pulled out of you, solely because at the loss of them, you felt empty.

“Rest now, querida, we’ll be here in the morning,” he whispered into your hair, and that was all the permission you needed.

“We should–” you brought a hand to your mouth to cover a massive yawn, “–do this again sometime.”

After that, it didn’t take long before you had succumbed to the tempting pull of sleep. Horacio sighed and glanced over your shoulder at Javier, who looked rather worn out himself. Tenderly, Horacio reached over and brushed aside a small strand of hair that had fallen in Javi’s face.

“So, same time next week, then?” Horacio asked, giving Javier a lazy smirk, which was returned in kind.

“Yeah,” Javier mumbled, turning over to drape his arm around your way and bury his face in your neck.

“Absolutely.”

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fraks · 3 years

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LEVERAGE REDEMPTION 1X13 THE HURRICANE JOB

- this half season splits up the team a lot. both literally by putting them in completely different locations and figuratively by having episodes very focused on certain people. breanna wasn't in golf job AT ALL. i'm not sure i like it. i'd enjoy it more if they split the team up in a way that put h/s alone together and there's only one bed.

- why yes, i had a little freak-out. for a hot second, harry and soph just made it sound like they pulled a job, just the two of them. but the others were there, too. they did, however, fly home together, WITHOUT the others. 👀

- i think this means that THEY'RE GONNA BE RIDING OUT THE HURRICANE TOGETHER AT THE OLD THEATRE. JUST THEM.

- lol "as long as they're nowhere near the gulf, they should be alright." a++, leverage.

- "i've taken every truth serum known to man and i come out smiling." LMFAO ELIOT. but also, wwwwow. they're really fucking with the ot3, aren't they? i mean, i get why hardison can't be there. frankly i'm amazed they managed to get three of the previous main five, and good for aldis for being popular! but without john rogers at the immediate helm, it feels like tptb are really trying to tear the ot3 apart, and while they've never been my main ship on this show, i a) do love them, and b) am ABSOLUTELY not here for tptb fucking with a giant part of the fandom community. from the episode summary, this ep was supposed to be "eliot and parker stuck at a hotel", would make for at least SOME ot3 content. but now that eliot has called the marshall, that's utter bogus, isn't it? "eliot and parker pretend to be siblings while eliot's gf is with them"? NO THANKS. and i like the marshall, and in my own personal headcanon, she can totally be involved with eliot without it invalidating the ot3, but DO NOT FUCK WITH THE OT3 FANS. i take that personally.

- huh i expected it'd be the old white guy (hotel owner?) they'd end up conning, but apparently not!

- eliot told the marshall about parker, but they "don't talk about work". what did you tell her, eliot? 😏

- fhakfhsjfbje ELIOT AND PARKER GESTURING IN SYNC. 🥰

- lmao parker pretending they have ""bosses"" at the ""agency"" they work for. that's so interesting to see, how parker's grifting style varies from sophie's. i mean, she's obviously gotten really good at the acting part of grifting, but it will never come naturally to her like it does to sophie. sophie inhabits a role completely, she BECOMES the character she's playing, because she loves grifting. for parker, it's a necessity. parker loves picking locks and cracking safes, crawling through vents and jumping off buildings, but not grifting. we already know parker can learn just about anything she sets her mind to, but burglary stuff is always going to be the thing that she enjoys the most. and i love that. i mean, don't get me wrong, i absolutely love that parker became the new mastermind at the end of leverage. it was perfect. but it had me worried that tptb would turn her into a superhuman version of herself, i guess. being the thief AND the grifter AND the mastermind at the same time is close to, if not actually, impossible. and there's no way to make that happen on screen, from a storytelling perspective. she physically cannot be conning a mark while at the same time cracking a safe while at the same time running around behind the scenes, rotating problems in her head. which is i think the storytelling reason for why sophie gets to run a lot of the cons this season, beyond the canon "sophie needs a project/distraction" explanation. anyway. i love everything about this. as much as i enjoy parker as the mastermind and grifter, i'm so happy she doesn't have to give up crawling through vents and jumping off buildings.

- HARRY AND SOPHIE STILL STUCK AT THE BASE TOGETHER. AND THEY HAD PIZZA. AND THEY'VE BEEN ALONE FOR HOURS.

- eliot just found the radio. so far, nothing has happened at the base yet. all we know is that, at some point, sophie will radio eliot to tell him harry's going to the hospital. I WONDER WHY. what are you doing to harry that he needs medical attention, soph? 👀

- "we should have some kind of bat signal." HARRY YOU RIDICULOUS DORK. 😍 but also i think you mean "eliot signal".

- "you're on an island in the gulf; you gotta get out of there!" oh harry. harry harry harry. you lovely man.

- HARRY AND FANTASY FOOTBALL. i really don't get the appeal of that, personally, but LOOK AT YOU USING YOUR GAMER AND GAMER-ADJACENT SKILLS, HARRY. and sophie's pretty impressed.

- eliot suddenly showing up out of the dark like that (and not for the first time) is equal parts amazing and terrifying. he's like one of those weeping angels from doctor who that move when you're not looking (idk, i don't watch doctor who, don't ask me about details, but i am terrified of those angels).

- ok the marshall is badass and i love her and she should totally be another leverage team's hitter. just not... eliot's (exclusive) girlfriend.

- harry wilson really just out there in 1b, throwing "sophie"s around left and right. 👀 i wonder why. i wonder what's made him suddenly start using her name all the time. like, there's a DEFINITE, noticeable difference after bucket job. he didn't use her name ONCE until unwellness job. and we never did see that conversation they had in bucket job. 👀

- LMAO AND THERE IS DOCTOR HARRY. awwww this must be so cool for noah. if you think @cminerva and i didn't make a "playing doctor" joke here, you'd be very much wrong.

- SOPHIE JUST CALLED HIM DOCTOR WILSON!

- and omg i have been counting "sophie"s and it's... impressive. it's like... they are so OBVIOUSLY endgame i'm worried it's TOO obvious. i mean, nate and sophie were endgame from the VERY first scene sophie was in. and it feels weird to like, have this repeat?

- "why are you protecting these people?" - "because you are supposed to." jfc eliot i already love you to the moon and back, there's no need to make me love you even more.

- "refill, doctor wilson!" - "indeed." why are you trying to get harry alone, soph? 👀 i mean, i know it's so eliot and parker can have a scene by themselves, but canonically, why? huh? harry letting sophie go first, his arm outstretched. HE'S SUCH A GENTLEMAN. where can i get my own harry wilson plsandty?

- "how do you know all that medical jargon anyway? - "tv." jsjfjsdjfjsjfjsjchejdjsjfwjxhw

- and they walk off together. 😍

- parker being worried eliot is going to leave them!!!!! and ARM OVER HER SHOULDER. 😭 i love them so much. and i have all the feelings anyone has ever had about the fact that parker thought eliot might leave them. TIL MY DYING DAY. they're forever.

- lmao the very last shot of the episode ends with a slow camera pan across and then almost under the counter they always sit at, and for a hot second, i expected the pan to go even further and show like, sophie's bra under the table or something. but then, harry would never let that happen. he'd make sure any and all stray bits of clothing were either very well hidden or back on his (or sophie's) person.

#leverage #leverage redemption #the hurricane job #sophie devereaux #harry wilson #tv: leverage #liveblogging #ship: harry x sophie #redemption spoilers #leverage redemption spoilers #leverage spoilers #spoilers

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schrijverr · 3 years

Text

Eliot's High School Reunion 1

Chapter 1 out of 10

Hardison and Parker convince Eliot to go and take them with him to his High School reunion. In this chapter he gets his invitation.

On AO3.

Ships: Thiefsome OT3

Warnings: mentions of homophobia

~~~~~~~~~~~

The Invitation

It all starts with a missed call.

Well, it isn’t a missed per se, just one Eliot doesn’t pick up while it’s his number. Instead, it’s Hardison, who is bored and hopes the call will be interesting at least. It’s not like it’ll be the first time he’s picked up for Eliot. “Hi, this is Eliot’s phone.”

“Hi, it’s Aimee. Aimee Martin?” a female voice greets him and she sounds familiar. “I don’t know if you remember me, it’s been a few years. You helped my daddy with his horses?”

The pieces click together and Hardison smiles: “Ah, yes! How is he doing? The horses all okay, did something happen? Do we need to come?”

“Oh, no, no,” Aimee assures him. “He’s fine. As are the horses. I’m actually calling because I’m the only one who still has Eliot’s contact information, he dropped of the map before you came to help me, you know.”

“Yeah, sure,” Hardison nods. “Why did anyone need it?” It never hurt to be careful with these sort of things, especially in their line of work, as well as Eliot’s past line of work. Though he doesn’t think Aimee is much of a threat.

“I have his invitation for our twenty year High School reunion,” Aimee informs him and Hardison already knows this is gonna be good.

“Really?” he can’t get the glee out of his voice. “I’ll be sure to inform him. Here, why don’t you give me the details and I’ll write ‘em down and make sure he gets there. Say he’s bringing two guests.”

“Sure,” there’s a smile in Aimee’s voice as well as she kindly gives him the details.

The first thing he does after hanging up is contact Parker. If they’re going to convince Eliot to go to this High School reunion, Parker needs to be enthusiastic about wanting to go. Hardison’s puppy-eye game is strong, but no one rivals Parker, especially when it comes to Eliot. He swears the hitter melts each time and always gives in, no matter what.

Luckily, Parker’s interest is piqued the moment he explains it to her and she immediately clears their schedule the week before it to minimize the chance of Eliot showing up injured.

When Eliot shows up with groceries, he sees their faces and is immediately suspicious. He puts down the bags and frowns: “Okay, what happened? Did someone die? Is anything on fire? What’s with the faces?”

“You got a call,” Hardison starts and regrets it as Eliot tenses, he remembers how he was in DC five years ago and that is not his intention. He quickly adds: “From Aimee. All is good by the way, as with her father and all the horses.” Eliot relaxes again, so Hardison hits him: “You got your invitation to your High School reunion.”

“Okay and what does that have to-” Eliot starts to say before cutting himself of when the realization of what that has to do those faces hits him. “No. No, I’m not going. High School reunions are stupid, okay. And I’ve not really been the kinda person I want to brag about. No.”

And honestly, he expected the protests, but the last part gets to him. Eliot is a good person. He has a shady past, sure, but he’s more than made up for it and Parker and Hardison both see each day how much he cares.

“You’re perfectly braggable,” he tells him. “I mean, come on. You got two amazing partners, you’re the chef at your own brewpub with a food truck company as well, you traveled the world, help veterans. You’re living the dream.”

Eliot shoots him a look and raises a brow. “Traveled the world isn’t really descriptive of what I did, now is it, Hardison. They’re all normal people. The ones that managed to stay and make something out of themselves in the same town I couldn't stand to be in. It’s not the same. I’m not going.”

Hardison looks at Parker, who steps in with a small pout and earnest eyes. “But we already told Aimee we’d be coming. And I never got to figure out what High School is like the last time we went to a reunion. Plus Hardison also didn’t go to prom. I wanna see it. It’ll be fun to see a bit more of who you used to be, like when we went to visit Nana for the first time.” Eliot doesn’t say a thing, but Hardison can tell he’s breaking. “Come on,” Parker pleads, “we never get a chance like this.”

“It could be dangerous,” Eliot says, but it feels like a token protest.

“I’ll double check everyone in attendance,” Hardison promises. “You can see all the faces so that you can spot one if they’re not supposed to be there.”

And they all know Eliot is out of arguments. He still tries, of course, mumbling something about it being unnecessary showboating and a waste of their time, but then he looks at Parker again and his shoulder sag. “Alright, but we��re making rules.”

The rules consist of not being weird and not embarrassing Eliot, as well as not endangering them (that one speaks for itself and was already obvious). The other two, well, Hardison and Parker take those as more of a suggestion that’s up to interpretation.

They also start to work on a cover. Eliot is understandably a bit scared about all that he’s done, and the fact that all of them technically should be in many prisons, will come back to haunt them, even if it’s just at a High School reunion.

So, they make up a story, not much just a general outline.

Eliot is head chef at the Bridgeport Brewpub, which Hardison owns (those are facts and easy to remember) while Parker is Hardison’s partner, also involved in the business. It’s all simple, but something they can fall back on, should it be necessary.

When they decide that last thing, Parker says: “Why can’t we all be dating? That’s not something dangerous we have to lie about.”

“Parker,” Eliot starts gently, “it’s- it’s a small town in Oklahoma, a red state to boot.”

“So?” Parker cocks their head in confusion and Eliot bites the bullet: “So, they’re not really the sort of people that like people in the relationship that we have.”

“Polyamory is not really considered ‘normal’, babe,” Hardison supports Eliot. “It’s part of the queer community and small towns aren’t known for being accepting.”

“It’s the sort of town the Democrats write off and where the marginalized people still living there get fucked over,” Eliot sighs. “I might not have been aware of my queerness back then, but it definitely didn’t help in any of it. There was a reason I felt like I had to get out.”

“They don’t like us?” Parker asks. She knows about queerphobia, of course she does. Even in thief circles it’s hard to avoid and they’ve heard their fair share of bullshit in different foster homes, but hearing how it impacted Eliot, well that always sucks.

When they first got together, Eliot had the most issues about PDA with Hardison. He was fine in the bedroom (years in the army and under Moreau had made exploring that quite unavoidable, but sex was different than emotions. Years of repressing that part and telling himself it was bad, well, it was messy, but they got better).

That had been difficult, but that was in the past. They don’t want him to go back to that. Softly she asks: “Do you not want to go because they’ll be mean to you? We can not go if you want. I don’t want you to get hurt just because me and Hardison want to see your High School.”

He smiles gently and she’s grateful for that. “Hey, it’s okay, sweetheart. Nothing I didn’t get over or used to. I’m fine with ignoring what they think, they don’t know shit. All I’m saying is that we maybe don’t want to flaunt it, if we’re gonna have a bit of fun there. No need to make it more miserable.”

“You still want to go?” Parker checks in anyway.

“Course, darlin’,” he tells her earnestly. “Just don’t expect that.”

“But I won’t get to kiss you for an entire night,” she pouts.

“You can kiss me now to make up for it,” Eliot offers and while Parker takes him up on that offer and kisses him senseless for a moment, though she’s still a bit pout-y after.

“Look, mama, it sucks, but at least we’ll get to mine embarrassing stories about this doofus here for an entire night,” Hardison tries to cheer her up.

“Psh, you won’t even know who to ask,” Eliot says, but he gives Hardison a nervous one-over anyway.

Hardison promises he’ll hack into all their everything so that they can compile a list of targets. And the two of them laugh at his misery, though Eliot doesn’t feel too bad about it once Parker is smiling again.

After that, the subject is mostly dropped. They’ve decided they’re going and they’ve made a plan on how to tackle it. Now it’s just waiting until the event.

A/N:

Thanks to everyone who motivated me to write this as well as to @dame-c, @onyxbird, @toomuchtoomuchtomention & @alannaofroseswritesfanfic for inspiring parts of this <3

#RR writing #tw: mild homophobia mention #leverage #eliot spencer #alec hardison #parker leverage #aimee martin #eliot's high school reunion #eliot's high school reunion part 1 #leverage ot3 #thiefsome

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soyforramen · 3 years

Text

28. i’ve been crushing on you for so long and when i get your name in secret santa i decide to write you a love note except there’s a last minute shuffle with people trading and my gift is given to someone else (bonus: ot3! ot3!)

I know this was a prompt sent in by @arsenicpanda, but lord help me if I can find the ask.

“So, who’d you pull for Secret Santa?” Fangs asked.

Betty picked at her sandwich. The reminder of Cheryl’s forced Christmas cheer drove away what little appetite she had. Nervously, she glanced over at Jughead who seemed oblivious to her internal struggle. When he glanced at her, she smiled and shoved her sandwich towards him.

“Veronica,” he mumbled through bites. He shot Betty a glance, a concerned warning that he’d be making sure she ate later.

“Cheryl,” Betty said miserably. “I don’t even know what she’d want.”

While she and her cousin had been on better terms now that the babies were older, it was still rocky. Alice Cooper and Penelope still hadn’t learned how to co-grandparent, forcing Cheryl and Betty to work together to avoid a Hatfield and McCoy situation for every holiday."

“Something red,” Fangs said with a laugh.

“Or stupidly expensive,” Jughead added.

Betty sighed and stared out at nothing in particular. Between finals, editing the school paper, and Christmas shopping for her own family, not to mention the long list of things she hadn’t managed to get to this month, it looked more and more like she wouldn’t be getting much sleep until the New Year.

“If you wanted to stare at me, all you had to do was ask. I'll send you as many pictures as you want.”

Betty’s eyes refocused to find Toni sitting across from her. Her knowing smirk made Betty flush. Suddenly, Toni was all she could see, bright eyes twinkling with mirth and her lips temptingly full and pink. Before Betty could stammer out a response, Jughead laughed and slung his arm across her shoulders.

“Toni, are you flirting with my girlfriend?”

At the reminder of his presence, Betty squirmed and stared onto the old picnic table. Guilt crawled across her skin; after all, Toni hadn’t been the only one flirting lately.

“Have been for a while Jones,” Toni shot back with a wicked grin. “You gonna do something about it?”

Betty held her breath, waiting for an irritated response or jealous sulking, but instead Jughead threw his head back and laughed. The sound shook out the tension that had suddenly risen within in her, and she couldn’t help but join in with him. When she glanced across the table, Toni shot her a wink. This time Betty’s skin crawled with something far different than guilt.

It was the last day of finals, and Cheryl had finally rounded everyone up. A vast array of presents, the wrapping of each a reflection of the giver, was piled in the center of the common room. Betty’s was meticulously wrapped, a hand made bow sitting on top. Archie’s was wrapped with more tape than paper, and Jughead’s had been thrown into a plastic shopping bag. Veronica’s was wrapped in expensive, holographic paper, no doubt wrapped at a chic New York boutique, while Kevin’s sat in a reusable tote that proudly thanked him for his donation.

“Can we get this over with Cheryl,” Veronica said over a latte, “I have an economics test in fifteen minutes.”

“So much for holiday cheer,” Kevin said in a soto voice.

“She’s even wearing Grinch green,” Fangs added.

“Do any of you humbugs have any holiday cheer?” Cheryl asked. She set her hands on her hips as she surveyed them. “No? Then how about we make things extra interesting. We’re all redrawing names.”

A collective groan rang out. Not to be discouraged, Cheryl picked up the first gift, a small package topped off with tinsel.

“Archie, pour vous.”

Before he could take the package, Toni leapt forward and grabbed the package.

“Sorry Red, you'll have to take a rain check,” she apologized, ignoring Cheryl’s harsh look. When Cheryl started to object, Toni said, “You’re the one who changed the rules on us.”

Cheryl huffed. “Fine, I’ll allow it just this once. But anyone else who tries it -“

She let the threat hang in the air before reaching for the next present.

“And this one will be for …”

Betty watched Jughead pack from the comfort of her bed. Outside the snow fell, it’s soft plinking noise lulling her back to sleep.

“Are you sure you have to be in Ohio the whole time?”

He turned, smiling, and kissed her on the forehead. “Jellybean’s been threatening me since August that if I didn’t come up there she’d drag me there herself.”

Betty reached out and grabbed his flannel shirt, pulling him back for another kiss. “I’m sure I can fend her off.”

“I’ll miss you too," he said.

His eyes were so soft when he looked at her like that. It was almost enough for her to volunteer to drive him to his mother’s. Almost. Knowing that they had holidays to spend together years from now made it easy enough to let him leave today. That, and the fact that if she did go she’d miss the twins’ first visit Santa. (And, worse than that, she'd have to hear about it all second hand from Cheryl).

“Why don’t you ask Toni to hangout? She wants to go see that weird alien movie you've been gushing about,” Jughead said, turning back to his luggage.

All of the warm, gooeyness that she’d felt evaporated immediately. Desperate to relieve her discomfort, Betty pulled the blankets tighter around her. There wasn’t really a reason she could give as to why she could say no; after all, they were part of the same friend group and they did get along splendidly. Not to mention the inappropriateness of admitting to one’s long term boyfriend that you had a maddeningly, infuriatingly, deep crush on someone else.

“Maybe," Betty said while she picked at a loose thread.

Then again, maybe spending more time with Toni would cure her of this crush; after all, it had happened with Veronica and they’d settled into a close friendship, one Betty wouldn’t give up for anything.

“Don’t have too much fun while I’m gone,” Jughead said, picking up his bag and helmet.

He kissed her cheek and Betty mumbled out an ‘I love you’ that felt just as real, just as strong as it ever had. A few minutes later Betty’s phone chimed and she saw a text from Toni. Betty groaned and burrowed deeper into her bed.

“It’s fine, really. I can walk. It’s only a few blocks,” Toni repeated as she pulled on her jacket.

Betty glanced out the diner window. Outside, drifts of snow were quickly growing.

“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should,” Betty replied.

Despite the tension that had been building up within her, despite the fear (exhilaration? increasing desire?) of being alone in such a close space with Toni, Betty couldn’t let her walk home in this kind of weather. Even if their friendship hadn’t grown deeper over the past week and a half she still would have made the offer.

“Are you worried about me, Cooper?” Toni teased.

“Yes.”

The smile fell from Toni’s face. She searched Betty’s face, and finding what she was looking for, smiled softly at her. It was so similar to the one Jughead had given her before she left that Betty had to look away.

“Alright. Lead the way,” Toni said.

Pop’s bid them a good night on their way out, and they braced themselves for the cold. Impulsively, Betty slipped an arm through Toni’s. After all, they were friends now, closer than they had been. She did this sort of thing with Veronica all the time, though unlike with Veronica, Betty only found her crush on Toni growing deeper.

“So, what are you doing tomorrow?”

Toni shrugged and stepped closer to Betty. “Same thing we always do. Watch reruns of It’s a Wonderful Life with Grandpa and eat too much. You?”

“The Blossoms invited us over for Christmas dinner.”

“Yikes,” Toni said with a slow whistle.

Betty pulled out her keys and opened up the passenger side door. Toni nodded her thanks and sat down. A minute later they were pulling out of Pop’s parking lot.

“I take it you and Cheryl are running interference?” Betty nodded and turned on her blinker. Despite there being no one on the street, it was a ingrained habit that made Toni smile at her.

“Something like that. Mom’s convinced they’re going to cancel last minute to make us host it, so she’s been on a cleaning and decorating rampage this past week. But the kids love that Cheryl’s been staying with us.”

“That’s good. I'm down there. ” Toni pointed to the right side of the Sunnyside Trailer Park. “The most drama we get is when some idiot decides to shoot off firecrackers at 4 am.”

Betty laughed and pulled in next to the trailer surrounded by half rebuild cars. She sat on her hands to keep from rushing out of her car and checking the models of each.

“Well, this is me,” Toni said.

Betty nodded, unsure of what else to say. In her peripheral vision she saw Toni pull something out of her bag.

“You were supposed to get this at Cheryl’s Christmas exchange,” Toni said.

She held out a package with crushed tinsel wrapped around it. When Betty looked closer she realized there were different kinds of vintage cars driving along a highway, each with a pine tree strapped to the top. Glancing at Toni, she gently pulled the paper apart. She almost fainted when she realized what it was.

“Toni, this is too much, I can’t -“

Toni held up a hand. “It’s really nothing. I just got lucky at the thrift store and thought of you.”

Betty stared at the first edition copy of The Secret of the Old Clock, scared to open it least it fall to pieces in her hands. A paper peeked out of the pages, and she gently tugged it out.

‘Merry Christmas Betty!

Thought you might like this (and don’t forget to check the inside cover before you put it under glass).

From,

Your Secret Admirer.’

Upon reading those words, Betty couldn’t help but keep the smile from her face. Something like this was so heartfelt, so personal, she couldn’t help but want to take Toni into her arms and thank her profusely. Opening the book ever so gently, Betty gasped at the author's faded signature.

“Toni -“

Her voice had taken on a tone of anguish. Torn between her loyalty and the sudden tenderness she felt, Betty was at a crossroads without a map.

“Is this about Jughead?” Toni asked. Betty whipped around to look at her. With a gentle smile, Toni wrapped her hands around Betty’s.

“Call your boyfriend.”

Betty squinted at Toni, unsure. Was Toni asking her to choose between them? As if reading her mind, Toni laughed. She slipped the book out of Betty’s hands and set it on the dash.

“Call your boyfriend, Coop.”

Frowning, Betty pulled out her phone and dialed Jughead. With every ring, her heart beat more painfully against her chest.

“Hey, happy Christmas Eve eve,” came Jughead’s sleepy voice.

“Hey, I didn’t wake you did I?”

She could her him shifting in the background. “No, we were just watching the worst movie of all time.”

Jellybean yelled out in the background and there was a scuffling as the phone exchanged hands.

“Break up with him, Betty, he has no taste.”

“Santa’s Slay should never had been made,” came his tinny voice. A second later and his voice was as clear as if he were sitting next to her. “What’s up?”

“Toni’s with me, and -“

“Oh, she finally gave you her Secret Santa gift?”

Betty’s eyes drew together and she glanced over at Toni. “You knew she drew my name?”

“Actually, I drew it, but -“

“You?”

Jughead’s chuckle was throaty and deep. The sound of it sent shivers down her spin in much the same way that Toni’s look did right now. “She wanted to trade, and neither of you have been subtle.”

“But -“ There was a silence that hung in the air as Betty processed what was happening. “Do you mean -“

“I’m secure in our relationship Bets. If you want to, then you have my blessing.”

“Oh.”

He laughed again. “Merry Christmas Betts. I love you.”

“I love you too,” she said, her voice sounding far off.

The line went dead and she sat there, watching the falling snow. It felt as if her chest were going to explode. The world had expanded three times since she’d first picked up the phone and suddenly it felt as if there was a wealth of new possibilities open to her.

“Well?” Toni asked, breaking Betty out of her reverie.

Betty turned to her slowly, taking her all in. Setting her hand on the console between them, Betty slowly leaned in, hesitantly touching her lips to Toni’s.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “I really like my Christmas gift.”

Toni wrapped her hand around Betty’s and tugged her closer. “Than you’re going to have to do a better job of showing it than that.”

#toni/betty/jughead dynamic #ot3 #listen this took far too long to get done #but here's christmas in june

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iturbide · 3 years

Note

If you are still up for character asks, how about Sumia. I was sad no one asked about her yet.

And your latest fan art got me interested in also hearing your thoughts on Takumi. If you feel ok answering since I know you haven't played Fates.

I’ve been sad about that too so thank you for rectifying that situation ❤

How do I feel about this character?

My girl. I love Sumia so much, she is one of my absolute favorite characters in Awakening and one I will never pass up an opportunity to write. I love her and how passionate she is about books, how deeply invested she gets in the stories and characters and how she uses them both as an escape from her own life (where she can’t help but dwell on her own shortcomings) and as a source of inspiration and courage. There’s something intensely relatable about wanting an escape like that, feeling outclassed or useless and getting lost in a book as a way to cope -- and yet she’s so capable, even if she doesn’t recognize it herself. She seems so used to people looking down on her or criticizing what she does or making fun of her slip-ups that she’s started to really believe all of it, when the reality is that her mistakes have never been her defining trait: seeing her learn to embrace her own skills and talents is so heartwarming and I find myself constantly rooting for her to succeed in everything.

Who do I ship this character with romantically?

Sully!! Sully and Sumia is one of my favorite ships in all of Awakening, honestly: I love these two ladies who are so gung-ho about horses and bond over that mutual interest and I love the idea of them getting together and learning more about each other, bolstering one another’s confidence (Sully reassuring Sumia that she’s more capable than she thinks and offering to train her if it would make her feel more assured, Sumia insisting that Sully doesn’t need to be girly to be a woman and gushing about how she admires the cavalier) and falling for one another in the process. It’s just really warm and I love it a lot, and given how encouraging they are in their supports, I really think they’d be a fantastic match for each other.

Also, I do love her with Chrom, and I feel like she’d be an encouraging influence for him, doing what she can to give him confidence and help him keep moving forward in spite of the obstacles; she’s such a bright and refreshing character and I think they could end up working really well together, leveraging their individual strengths to make the halidom a better place. And I really enjoy her with Robin, too, considering how they bond over their mutual love of books, and I think Robin would be one of those people who really can see her for who she is, rather than the klutz she sees herself as. It’s especially good when it’s both of them together with her though (yes I love my OT3).

Who is my brOTP for this character?

Robin and Sully, when I’m not shipping them! Their relationships are so strong and they’re founded on such deep rooted friendship that even when I have them in other relationships, those bonds remain. Also, even though she doesn’t have any supports with him in the game (which is criminal), I love the idea of a Sumia and Kellam friendship. Kellam is someone who struggles to be noticed, Sumia’s someone who often seems to wish she could disappear. The idea of them coming together and overcoming their obstacles together is really heartwarming to me.

What’s my Unpopular Opinion™ about this character?

She’s so much more capable than fandom wants to give her credit for. Most people seem to write her off as stupid, passing over her as a brainless klutz in favor of the “genius” Cordelia -- but this is such a disservice to Sumia and her character. She’s a fantastic fighter if given the chance, outrunning and outmaneuvering enemies, and while the game loves to play her off as comic relief, she’s a character with interesting, thoughtful support conversations whose life clearly doesn’t revolve around getting a man’s attention. She’s her own person with hopes and dreams, hobbies and interests, unique skills and charming quirks, and bothering to get to know her really allows her to shine.

And personally, I don’t think she’s actually that clumsy. Sure, she can be a little scatterbrained sometimes, but even the smartest and most capable people can be; when she has too many things to juggle she slips up in comic ways, but when push comes to shove she’s incredibly capable; if she weren’t, she never would have been able to rescue Chrom at the Longfort (sometimes I think people forget that she’s the one who swept in and got him clear of the javelins).

(And for a bonus unpopular opinion: I hate Cordelia and Sumia as a ship. Cordelia is so mean to Sumia in their supports, banning Sumia from telling her flower fortunes because she personally doesn’t see value in them -- she doesn’t even bother trying to understand what Sumia’s doing or why, she just decides that her own way is the only right way, which is not how friends should act; putting them in a relationship is out of the question for me.)

What’s one thing I wish would have happened with this character in canon?

Why does she have so few supports? It’s not fair that she can so easily end up alone because the game limits her options so much; aside from Chrom, she has the fewest marriage options, but unlike him she doesn’t have an auto-marriage after a certain point. It’s not fair that the game treated her that way, and I wish canon had given her more supports, platonic and romantic both. Again, seeing her with Kellam would have been incredible, and I really wish they’d bothered to give her a support chain with Maribelle, too, considering how Maribelle treats her early on; it would have been amazing to see them work things out.

and you know I was wondering if people forgot my favorite Fates character

How do I feel about this character?

I have never played Fates. I know about these games purely through fandom osmosis. And yet I will say, in no uncertain terms, that Takumi is my absolute favorite Fates character. Fallen Takumi is still one of my very few units at +10 merges in Heroes because I love him that much. And it’s kind of hilarious how it came to this because it’s kind of Heroes’ fault that I’m in this situation.

I remember when the game first launched how much of a pain he was in the early Arena before Skill Inheritance was a thing, and how the only reliable counter I had for him was Hector because I’d never gotten Takumi myself. And then one day he randomly showed up in a summon, and I was so excited I ran off to train him immediately...and realized as I did that this guy has some massive self-esteem problems. It’s what got me interested in him in the first place, enough to do some digging in the wikis, and I kind of fell in love with his character: he’s smart, he’s capable, but he has a massive inferiority complex since he’s grown up in the shadow of his older brother -- something Corrin’s return manages to make worse, since everyone kind of loses their minds over it and pushes him down and away despite the fact that he’s the only one being sensible and questioning whether they can really trust Corrin after they were brought up in Nohr. While he has an attitude problem that needs to be addressed (though it’s nowhere near as bad as Felix’s), he can get better and gain confidence in himself and his abilities...but in Conquest, his fate is an absolutely tragic one, where his self-doubt and anger allow Anankos a foothold, something to prey upon, and ultimately lead to his loss of control, loss of self, and loss of life. His story just really hits me in the heart, kind of like Lyon, and I just want to see him grow and overcome his doubts.

Who do I ship this character with romantically?

Okay so this is probably where my not having played the game is going to bite me but I have no idea. There are so many characters in Fates and I don’t even know half of them. I know Leo is a popular partner for him but I’ve never really seen the chemistry there so I can’t say that’s for me; I could always cheat and say I ship him with happiness because honestly that is true, I really do want him to be happy first and foremost, but I don’t have an actual character answer whoops.

Who is my brOTP for this character?

Azura. I love the idea of the two of them coming together as friends, both haunted and hounded by nightmares and terrible thoughts they can’t seem to shake, and finding ways to support one another through it. I get the feeling that Takumi might have treated Azura with some distrust early on, but despite the fact that she came from Nohr, I honestly think they could have ended up having a close bond in Hoshido growing up as they struggle with their own problems, and it would have been amazing to see them come together to overcome them. Also, I love the idea of him and Sakura being close as siblings, with Takumi protecting Sakura and helping draw attention off her when she’s feeling especially shy while she tries to encourage him and give him a place where he can relax with and get away from all his issues for a little while, someone he can enjoy himself with and not have to think about his problems.

What’s my Unpopular Opinion™ about this character?

I actually don’t know what kind of popular opinions there are about Takumi so I have no idea what kind of unpopular opinion I could have. Honestly I don’t see anywhere near enough to Takumi in general since he seems to be eclipsed by not only his older brother but the Nohrian royals in fandom-wide popularity; is it an unpopular opinion to want more people to give him a chance, rather than writing him off as just an angry nay-sayer? Because honestly, he is the only one with any sense, since he’s the only one who thinks to distrust Corrin when they return.

What’s one thing I wish would have happened with this character in canon?

Okay so this is really really niche but I really wish they’d made Takumi Corrin’s half-brother rather than just a step-brother. It honestly would have made so much sense? Takumi’s the only other character who has the same kind of pale hair that Corrin canonically does, even if it’s not the exact same shade, so if that came from Mikoto it would fit perfectly with not only Corrin’s and Takumi’s hair color, but Sakura’s hair being that super pale pink compared to Hinoka’s vibrant red, which is what you’d probably expect from Ikona and Sumeragi after Ryoma inherited his father’s very dark hair. I get the feeling they didn’t do it because they wanted to make all the royals available as romance options, which is both cheap and gross (and after what they did with Azura in Revelations it’s worse), but I think it would have been a really interesting plot element if they’d taken the time.

Give Me a Character

#answered #alerawolf #meme #fire emblem: awakening #fire emblem: fates #sumia #takumi #two of my favorite characters in one ask #you are my hero for requesting these two #i love takumi so much now i want to draw him again

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thisbluespirit · 3 years

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Fic Writer Tag Game

I was tagged to do this by @allegoriesinmediasres but it had already gone round Dreamwidth this last week, so I did it there. I’ll try and c+p it over here, too!

1) How many works do you have on AO3? 620 (but I've been writing a lot of short things since around 2006-7, and there might even still be a couple of the 1994-98 fic from the newsgroups up). 2) What’s your total AO3 word count? 1,476,147 (but this does include about 300,000 words of origfic for RaTs and rainbowfic that are collected into three works, so it doesn't affect the works no too much, but it does affect the wordcount.) 3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they? Too many to list here! A lot. *nods* 4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos? People, it's still Miss Marple. Maybe one day it won't be Miss Marple, but today is not that day. (ETA: whenever i do my top AO3 fic on these memes, it’s disproportionately Miss Marple. I am bemused.) Miss Marple: The Spirit of St Mary Mead So We Meet at Last Not Miss Marple: it's the rain that will strengthen your soul (SW Prequels) Five Times the Doctor Got in the Way of Captain Janeway (and One Time They Got Along Just Fine) (DW/ST) By the Book (Origfic) (Oh, wow, By the Book keeps moving up. It must get recced sometimes, somewhere, mustn't it? 0_o ♥) 5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not? Yes. Fanfic is a lot my way of being social, which is why I don't get along with the new push-button web much. Like, kudos is fine, ok, but I just wanted to talk to people, and via fic always seems to be one of the nicest ways to do it. 6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? Oh, I don't know. I like being bleak sometimes when I feel like it. It might be the EatD one with the two Generals, but honestly there were a few in my mid-illness old bleak telly watching years, and the Level 7 one or the one from Children of the Damned might be even more so? Or some S&S stuff, too? I mean, I wrote S&S plane crash fic and weird drabbles. (I blame my fandoms! It's not my fault! *innocent*) Also I keep doing Clara splinter fic, so I keep killing Clara and it's always sadder than I expect when I get there. You'd think I'd learn by now, or just not kill this splinter, but, nooo, hey, how about MORE Clara splinter death, self? /o\ Oh, no, wait: it's probably Spooks! Spooks is also bleak and how about my tiny ficlet of death, Litany of the Fallen? Oh, actually, if I listen to people who aren't me, it's that B7 Avon/Servalan one, which I was always a bit: BUT I WROTE ONE WHERE THEY WON about it and everyone else was all THIS IS THE WORST in the comments. Sorry? The Quality of Mercy (Is Most Definitely Strained) (I still think the ending of Compendium is more angsty! It has double death!) (Ok, it's me. I like being bleak and angsty when I'm doing it. I'm less sure when someone else is doing it at me, of course. ;-p) 7) What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending? I honestly don't know. I'm usually kind of gen and happy and sometimes even humorous, and keep canon's tone, and DW is fairly light most of the time. I tried searching on Happy, but I have never tagged anything as happy. But probably it is an AAL! thing, because AAL! is happiness in b&w TV form basically. Maybe of Of Human Bondage (or Five Times Adam and His Friends Found Themselves All Tied Up)? But I like all the AAL! ones I wrote for Yuletide, because they were the ones where I tried to be closest to an episode, and that makes them the most fun to re-read. 8) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written? I have a crossover in my top 5, so yes. I'm a DW fan; crossovers are just far too obvious a temptation when you've got a TARDIS. What DW fic writer hasn't managed at least one once somewhere? And I might have, um, written a lot of them. (AO3 says 126). I did once, way back in newsnet times, when we were having a debate over what you could and couldn't cross DW over with (and I was on Team You Can Cross It With Anything You Cowards), write a DW/Rainbow drabble. But I don't think I put that on AO3. I think it might be on Teaspoon. In AO3 works, I think by far the silliest is the Baldrick/Steed one, which AstroGirl said I couldn't write. (It was an Unconventional Courtship summary, not that they randomly dared me to write Baldrick/Steed. I mean, some of my flist totally would have done if they'd thought of it, but not in this case.) 9) Have you ever received hate on a fic? Not really. I've had some weird comments, but the nearest I've come to hate was one of the comments that time I tried to write Swan Queen fic and it wasn't happy enough for people. (I wrote a happy one after, but the ifrst one was set quite early, Regina was still kind of evil!) 10) Do you write smut? If so what kind? Alas, no. Although, ish, if we count my experimental elemental shipping phase, which included The Cornfield (Silver/Steel/(Sapphire)), which is the only time anyone called any of my fic sexy. I would totally have that comment made into a medal or something. 11) Have you ever had a fic stolen? Other than the random scraping things that have gone round over the years, no. 12) Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes! Several people have been kind enough to do this, usually into Russian, and usually (but not always!) Miss Marple. 13) Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes, and no - in adwc days we all co-authored round robins, which were a blast and highly frustrating. I think it'd be fun, but barring the odd bit of drabble tennis with various flisters back in the day, it's not really something that's worked out. (I'm thinking, I could have all the ideas, they could do all the writing, I could criticise?? XD) 14) What’s your all time favorite ship? My Relationships count is very misleading here, because I think it actually is (including in terms of things written for it), Sapphire/Silver/Steel, but it's a weird thing, so sometimes I tag it platonically, and sometimes I don't necessarily tag it at all for that reason, and also I think it puts people off unnecessarily. (But it's a Lie when I don't tag it. All my Sapphire & Silver & Steel is inherently OT3 even if no one else can see it.) 15) What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? None. I have unposted WIPs, but I do hope to finish those, and the only posted WIP is a very old one only on Teaspoon that was begun before I was ill and I can't even really say at this point that I would want to finish it. 16) What are your writing strengths? Character/dialogue, I think? I am actually not that bad at plot, but currently I lack the stamina for long things. I like to think I can be quite funny when I'm in the mood. 17) What are your writing weaknesses? Description, action. Argh. Yes, let's just talk some more, okay? 18) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? I was going to say I would never, but actually I did! I wrote Y Gwyll | Hinterland fic, and it wouldn't be right not to have some Welsh in that. However, while I may be a 1/4 Welsh and know some Welsh words, I don't actually speak it, so I had to turn to Llywela who was very kind and translated the sentences I needed. (I added the English translation in the footnote.) This was the fic, but basically language is important in canon (ironically maybe even more so in the Eng-lang version I watched than the original Welsh), and so it was also important in the fic. So, probably if it was a canon where it was required, then I would do what I could to get help to get it right? The good thing about the internet is that you can usually find someone, although usefully for me, I already knew someone. 19) What was the first fandom you wrote for? Doctor Who! 20) What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? I'm going to wimp out on this along with everyone else. Although... if any of you have a fave fic of mine, that would be very cool to hear! (But I don't expect anyone to.) Sometimes I'm pleased enough with the latest to feel it's that, but that's not always the case, and it isn't currently. (No, offence, Latest Works! I like you, it just only happens once in a while, usually when I've managed something I've wanted to do for years.)

I won’t tag anyone, because I know lots of people also did this on Dreamwidth, but it’s always VERY cool to see people’s answers to these things and memes are for stealing.

#fanfic #writing #memes #writing meme #ao3 #fannish nonsense #long post #rambling about fic #replies #allegoriesinmediasres #the c+p worked even with the links!#\o/

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smallblueandloud · 3 years

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some leverage: redemption reactions

i finished leverage redemption today! and i don't have anyone to talk to about it so, here we have my reactions for all eight episodes, both positive and negative. please feel free to reblog/comment -- discussions are what i'm here for! (under a cut because spoilers and also this ended up being 2k. whoops!)

EPISODE 1: the too many rembrandts job

the "aww, this guy is trying to pull his first heist! how cute" job

what they chose to do with nate was... interesting. it might just be that i read too many of those cracky "here's how they should explain nate's absence" posts, but i was expecting something funny. the grief permeating this episode -- it makes SENSE, but it was still weird. leverage doesn't usually have sadness like this. pain, yes, rage, certainly, but sadness? not usually

the way sophie immediately spots the signs of a con and slips into a character? phenomenal. i'm here for EXPERTS BEING EXPERTS and this show does NOT disappoint

harry wilson is a really solid character! most impressively, he's not flynn, which is impressive enough that i'm making a whole bullet point about it. i was worried that noah wyle was kinda a one-trick pony, but it appears not! good for him tbh

i'm LIVING for the ot3 moments in this episode. "what happened?" "we happened" YESSSSS!!! i wish we'd had more domesticity, but i know they did what they could

"he gets it from his father" FUCK!!!!!

the discussion about redemption in this episode is FANTASTIC but personally i am still delirious with excitement about "my nana leads a multi-denominational household" so expect those thoughts in 3-5 business days

EPISODE 2: the panamanian monkey job

the "flash electropop concert" job

BREANNA INTRODUCTION! i love her so MUCH, y'all. we only got to see her dynamic with hardison in this one episode, but man, it manages to be one of her best dynamics anyway. i just! i love her! i love the way the team works with her!

"in our field, you're one of the best. but there, you're the only one." god we have ELIOT/HARDISON rights and i am NOT OKAY. just!! them!!!!!! being supportive!!!!!! they have learned how to be sweet with each other! they work together so much better (in part because we're seeing them from harry's outsider pov instead of nate's insider pov, but STILL)

midway through this episode, i thought "huh, leverage always focuses on specific people, when really the problem is systematic, and pretending it's anything different is just an excuse to not fight for change". and then at the end harry talks about how the system itself is broken! i love knowing that john rogers and i were reading the same tweets last summer. it's a good feeling to trust the people making a piece of media

who let noah wyle speak spanish. whoever it was, they need to rescind their permission

god, the parker/hardison in this episode. THE PARKER/HARDISON IN THIS EPISODE! they KILL me friends they KILL ME!

also just like, hardison in this episode in general. he made a star trek reference! he made a doctor who reference! he decides there are other people who need him more! the way they wrote around gina bellman's maternity leave in s2 was good but this was phenomenal.

also i'm here for ot3 crumbs so "is this like the time when eliot wanted us to say no" is going on my ot3-is-canon conspiracy board

this is a tiny detail but eliot taking out the drone with a goddamn ORANGE was so good. he's so good at his job!! they're all so good at their jobs!! i know i literally just talked about this but AAA

EPISODE 3: the rollin' on the river job

the "sometimes you just want to rob a vault wearing a floofy dress, and that's valid" job

i did... not. like. how the villain in this one was an immigrant whose exploitable weakness was a "desperation" to be included in the upper crust. and the fact that they beat him with a literal southern belle who explicitly beats him BECAUSE her family has been in the area for "hundreds of years"? it just feels Iffy.

also iffy about this episode was breanna's characterization. it felt inconsistent. she feels inconsistent across the whole season, but this episode in particular... she tells harry she's only with the team because she's desperate, that she doesn't believe in hope, and then at the end of the episode she tells parker she wants to be there to change the world. and like, even in the first place, she's not here out of desperation! SHE asked to join the team! like, i can see how it all kinda fits together, but it just feels... inconsistent. idk. i think these scripts all could've benefited from an extra round or two of editing.

anyway! i loved the way they tied hardison into these episodes, even though aldis hodge couldn't be there. he has binders! breanna doesn't want to read them! parker did! he put in big letters, "when in doubt, trust the person in the van". i'm just so !!! about how much i love him and how much he loves his team and how much his team loves him. FOUND FAMILY, BABY!

all inconsistencies in breanna's characterization aside, i really liked her speech at the end. i know how she feels! it's really nice to have someone on the team who's from -- not my world, really, but a lot closer than any of the others. it's a nice feeling! i love her a lot. i hope her writing gets more consistent

lol, parker ate eliot's carrot cake. i love the parker/eliot rights we get in this show, they're so domestic and it's wonderful.

EPISODE 4: the tower job

the "hardison made his partners learn klingon" job

watching this episode was what made me go "they're not going to make us sit through a harry/sophie romance... right? right?"

i'm still not sure they're gonna let us avoid it but it COULD work so... i've decided to just not worry about it for now

i liked the number of ways the con goes wrong! it was fun to watch them work on the fly like that. i think them not having a dedicated Mastermind(tm) is a good watsonian explanation for their plans being pretty haphazard in general, but it's good, they think well on their feet

nate was a chessmaster. he had the whole situation in his mind from the beginning, accounting for every possible outcome. parker and sophie are much more adaptive, and it's cool to see. they can rely on their respective skillsets a lot more than nate could

a really solid episode! probably one of the strongest ones in the season. i liked it a lot.

(ALSO as mentioned above the klingon lines were fantastic and not just because they were a star trek reference -- every time eliot and parker both mentioned hardison, together, it added a year to my lifespan)

EPISODE 5: the paranormal hacktivity job

the "sophie was worryingly prepared to fake her death" job

i know why they characterized the client as a skeptic, i really do, and i loved the format of this episode, but also. But Also. she should've been a love interest for breanna and I'm Right.

having a girl's episode was the CORRECT choice. they do crimes in their free time! they fleece newbie, cruel criminals! it's so good!

it would've been cool to have eliot around for the assassin guy, but it was also cool to see the others take him out without having eliot to rely on. it's like getting to see how they'd take out eliot, if they were ever on opposing sides.

PARKER CANONICALLY USES SCRIPTS IT'S THE BEST THING EVER

breanna bristling about letting the criminal into the theater's electric system was so good god i love her so much. she knows hardware! i bet she likes to work with her hands. i bet she stims. i bet she has adhd

actually, sidenote, but i LOVE these headquarters. they look so nice! the stage is so nice! i loved having an episode set in and around it, it was such a good choice.

EPISODE 6: the card game job

the "FINALLY AN EXPLICITLY QUEER LEVERAGE CHARACTER" job

QUEER BREANNA QUEER BREANNA QUEER BREANNA QUEER BR

UNFOLLOW ME NOW THIS IS GONNA BE THE ONLY THING I POST ABOUT FOR THE REST OF TIME

GOD, what a good way to reveal it. it's fully about her! i love queer romances, of course i do, but i don't think i've ever seen a character come out without a romance being their reason for doing so (however indirectly). i still think she should've gotten a date with the client from 1x05, but i really liked this too.

this episode just felt like a love letter to fandom, and i love that. i love how much it shone through. i'm used to writers specifically going out of their way to make fun of fans and laugh at them, so it was just. really nice to have someone stand up and go, no, this is important for a reason! people love this for a reason! it MEANS something!

very fun to watch eliot swordfight. very fun to watch sophie recite a sonnet in her classic fashion. very fun to watch parker work at being a good mentor. breanna was so excited about the card game! they're all so good!

oh, and i guess harry's here too.

EPISODE 7: the double-edged sword job

the "harry is addicted to mobile games, which is a mood" job

hot take alert! i think this is the weakest episode of the season by a LOT. it needed so much more editing. it felt so disjointed, so all over the place. the plot was haphazard but in a muffled way, where you had no idea why they were doing what they were doing. the climax was sudden and didn't make any sense. it was just weird.

i'm not the person to comment on this but it feels kind of lazy to cast an east asian guy to play a socially-awkward tech genius. just a thought.

oh, of course jonathan frakes directed this episode. sometimes his stuff is really good but other times (ahem, ds9 3x02) it's disjointed and all over the place. i'm not even surprised it was him.

idk if i have anything else to say about this. oh! some of the team moments were great -- mostly involving eliot. i loved the moment of him recognizing the headshot, i LOVED the ten seconds of everyone teasing him. he and parker talked about the wellbeing of their friend, the woman whose ex tracked her down!

separate bulletpoint to say how much i LOVED his conversation with breanna outside the house. he's so good at reassuring! he could go deeper there, talking about being better than your worst day, but he knew when not to push! it was so good.

"first off, this guy can't TOUCH hardison" deserves its own bulletpoint because like. y'all. Y'ALL.

EPISODE 8: the mastermind job

the "eliot is more than just a pretty face" job

oh man this post is so much longer than i thought it would be. okay just one more episode and then i'm done.

the callbacks to original leverage were SO well done and made me feel emotions without feeling overbearing.

i didn't like the central premise -- that nate would share so many details with a random insurance agent -- in the first place, but i did like how it allowed them to bring back nate without actually hiring timerty mcasshole.

i liked eliot's insistence that he's more than just the muscle! he is, and it's really good to know, textually, that the writers do too!

me, watching the resolution of the episode: ah, yeah, insurance fraud. a classic!

harry bonding with his guard had "they don't even have dental!" energy and i am SUCH a fan. i know it was all for the con but also give me harry, unable to stop advising people, even when they're actively holding him hostage

parker! on the phone with hardison!!!! ADORABLE

is it just me or was someone else expecting the accountant's name to be something significant? with the way they led up to it, i was waiting for a "sterling" or something else. my sensors were pinging for another tara reveal. i'm still convinced we're gonna get this guy dramatically revealed in the season finale.

a really nice episode! i had a lot of fun with it. and now i want to rewatch the rashamon job, but tbh i ALWAYS want to rewatch the rashamon job.

and that's a wrap! overall, a fun season, i enjoyed it a lot. not as solid as original leverage, but it's the very beginning, and it was put together during a global pandemic, so i'm cutting them some slack. also levar burton is gonna show up at some point. that's a big reason of why i'm cutting them so much slack.

my personal ranking of the episodes is 1x04, 1x06, 1x08, 1x01, 1x02, 1x03, and finally last (and least), 1x07.

what did you guys think of the new season? what was your favorite episode? do you agree with any of my opinions? disagree with any? let me know, please, i'd love to discuss!

#leverage #leverage redemption #leverage spoilers #redemption spoilers #leverage redemption spoilers #sb and l rambles #sb and l watches leverage #levred #this is so much longer than i thought it was gonna be #i shouldn't be surprised but ughhhh i'm so tired

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cakeandpi · 3 years

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Parker!! spoilers abound

hm, so Harry (aka Lawyer) has been fired/let go and no one gave him the memo on it. Is his old job/boss going to be this episodes mark?

oof, Harry is bad at being subtle with his ‘okay look in [place]’ comm directions

ah okay so isn’t a legal firm that’s about representing their clients to the best of their ability. it’s a firm whose about smoothing bad things over for rich clients so that there’s little to no consequences.

“I remember when you wanted to change the world.”/“World did change. We just went along for the ride.” So the world changed the boss, the boss gave up on changing the world because he saw a way to profit from it and didn’t care that he hurt others along the way.

The way that car drove up onto the curve, I thought that was Sophie in a big hurry at first. (I would have thought Parker but there wasn’t enough time for her to crack the safe, get to the relevant files, get out, and then drive there.) But no, it’s Maxwell’s thugs because the man holds a grudge apparently. So I’m going to guess he’s going to be the season big bad? Or is he just a 2-episode bad guy and we’ll find out who the real big bad is later?

Hardison: listing various problems on various international efforts he’s helping with Eliot: let’s make this a restaurant metaphor Hardison: *very much regretting ever buying Eliot that brewpub*

Nuts and bolts about bad guy details

Also that bit about Hardison being distracted by problems is definitely a distraction, there’s no way he’d pause on making sure their safehouse was secure

Eliot is not so much pissed as insulted that the world is at the point of advertising the corruption rather than him needing to beat it out of someone.

drone!!

*snort* eliot's usually the grouchy one, and he’s carrying a trashcan right now. there’s no way hardison doesn’t make some oscar the grouch joke once he sees that.

“It’s like you never stopped.”/“Yeah. Quite the act.” Sophie slows down at Hardison’s comment, then sighs and sits. She’s finding this tiring now. Is it because she’s out of practice? Or because after so many years of retirement, her hearts not in it anymore? And Hardison notices. He doesn’t say anything concrete immediately, because Sophie hasn’t really elaborated on what’s going on with her. When she does - it’s her grief, and how its affecting her grift now - there’s this concern in Hardison’s face. There’s absolutely going to be a meeting between the OT3 about how to straddle not straining Sophie too much and not babying her should she stay on for another job after this.

“But I can’t work forever, can I?” There’s a defeated tone to this, and it’s true - Sophie’s just human, one day she too will pass on. Her grief for Nate (and how being back with the team keeps reopening that wound) is coloring her view on this for sure. (Did Nate work himself to death?) It’s also, very distantly, a remark on the OT3 - they too can’t work forever. They were Sophie’s and Nate’s proteges. And it’s not that the OT3 doesn’t have anything in place if they go down - they’ve got small teams running all over the world. But they don’t have their own personal proteges. Harry’s a decent start, but they’ll need to recruit and open up their circle to at least one, maybe two more before they’re ready to retire. Before they, too, burn too hot for too long.

“You hear that? That’s a very distinctive sound.” YES

Another Basil & Brick truck! This one has.... empanadas, ropa vieja, sancocho, and I think the last one is yuca frita. Mm, yuca fries.

BREANNA!!!

Parker! Taught Breanna to tail people! (Hardison in particular?) When she was 11! Wait does that mean Parker’s met Nana?! Also Parker is so smug and satisfied that Breanna paid attention to her lessons.

“I teach every kid I meet how to do crime.” <3 be gay do crime

This is a big ‘I’m telling mom!’ argument and I love it, especially the “I think she’s napping” LMAO

“How you saved Eliot’s life all those times” Oh man Hardison is sleeping on the metaphorical couch tonight. But also I need to come back to this later because honestly and really? Hardison has - as part of a group team effort - saved Eliot’s life from himself. By giving him a way to work through his anger issues, by caring for him, by showing Eliot he’s needed and that he’s more than just a hitter. The team saved Eliot’s life. (And there’s probably a bunch of erasing digital trails/etc where Hardison did more directly save Eliot’s life but that's besides the point.)

“But hacking’s kind of old school anyway.” And as she goes on, Eliot goes from aggrieved to ‘oh, a new best friend’ because now he has someone to help him annoy Hardison.

Parker pulls Hardison into a side room (by his ear, but he’s not protesting in pain so that’s got to be just for show). And then pushes him up against the wall and Hardison is like ‘okay whatever lecture is coming can it not be like this?’ If it weren’t for the glass walls that’d be some makeout stuff right here.

LOL at Parker’s standard for a ‘normal’ person being ‘uses Uber, pays taxes, and has a birth certificate’.

“Wait is this like that time in Paris?” I... don’t remember an episode set in Paris with a robot and explosions so this must be during the time skip. And - “... but you didn’t want to hurt Eliot’s feelings so you secretly wanted us to agree.” I’m going to scream if there’s no confirmed ot3 by the end of the season. And cry. And read a whole bunch of fic.

Look at these two being honest with each and communicating and respecting each others opinions, they’ve grown so much from pretzel metaphors.

“You’re not mad. You did the Picard tug.”/“I am mad.“/“Did the tug. You know I like that.” Parker might be mad (at Hardison? Breanna? Both?) but not so much that she’s completely shutting out Hardison, giving him a nonverbal signal that she’s not pissed, just needs some time to be upset before everything’s okay.

“One. Job.” Parker says. And we the viewers know it’ll be more than one. But really what that means by now is that this is an audition. Parker may have taught Breanna some things, but now Breanna has to show that they do better with her rather than without, that she’s an asset and not a liability or dead weight.

I laughed so hard that because this shit’s illegal, there’s no cutting corners on the paperwork.

“And you didn’t get tortured.”/“Not this time.” I can’t tell if Eliot wants Harry to get a little bit tortured or if he’s just reminding Harry that this time around people were in a good mood and showing off.

Breanna stops herself before suggesting something, and Hardison, for all that he isn’t delighted at her presence and protested her being here, encourages her to speak up. If she’s going to be part of the team, even for one job, she’s part of the team and that means speaking up and throwing ideas out there for others to bounce around, even if it winds up being a football that can’t be dribbled.

OT3 TEAM JUST GOT DUBBED ‘DRILL TEAM’. (why is that also somehow a dirty joke i’m dying here)

Oh one of the baddies is a Com4r4t fan... oh wait no this is the beginning of a plan backfiring.

Aww Breanna is so proud of what she’s done! It’s very much like season 1 Hardison. So Sophie and Hardison go to do their own thing, only that means the baddies are here to talk to Breanna and she doesn’t have backup.

THE 'LET ME GET MY BOSS’ THE SPIN AROUND AND THE ‘WHY ARE YOU BOTHERING MY STAFF’ I LOVE BREANNA.

“I’m your neighbor who runs a business built on discretion.” This is going to go very badly depending on how Breanna plays this. At least she gets the earbud in to call for help!

Another Brick&Basil truck! Etoufee and jambalaya, dammit eliot stop choosing delicious food to advertise.

“I monkey-shamed the DJ” I. Love. Her. Also Sophie’s already read Breanna as having the skills to just need general guidelines for an impromptu grift rather than needing to be fed specific lines.

“Okay here’s the thing.” And there’s a pause, we’re thinking he’s about to come down real hard on Breanna, and then we get “I love Com4r4t.” he is a fanboy I guessed it right!! And then he does go through with the threat, but not as a ‘cancel it or die’ sort of threat, but a ‘if i’m disappointed you die’ way.

Breanna nails the impromptu grift though she’s understandably a bit shaken by the threat at the end. (What newcomer wouldn’t be?) But the threat is what pushes Parker into deciding Breanna should go home ASAP. This is Hardison’s family, from before the team, and Parker isn’t about to risk messing that up. If she pushes for Breanna to stay when Hardison doesn’t want Breanna to, and something goes wrong? Parker would never, ever forgive herself.

But as Sophie has pointed out, they’ve all been out of their depth at one point or another. That doesn’t mean that someone should be sent packing.

Lmao Eliot being possessive of the drill.

“Then you ain’t got no more problems ever again.” There’s a certain sense of morbid humor with the team, one that’s both necessary but also a reality. They deal with this level of danger on a semi-regular basis. Harry just hasn’t caught up to that fact yet.

I have a feeling this particular baddie is going to end up dead for managing to drive a 40% cut.

“I’m just saying dude.” I love that Eliot and Hardison don’t have to rehash their entire arguments anymore unless they’re really enjoying themselves, that they can just be all ‘you know I’ve said my piece’.

“Don’t get distracted by the side gig.”/“Is it a side gig?” For all that the team has been their main focus for so long, for all that they all have side projects and gigs, this has been eating up more and more of Hardison’s time. What I thought was him pretending to be distracted earlier may have been a real distraction. And Eliot’s noticed, and he’s noticed that Hardison hasn’t noticed, that Hardison needs to make a choice here.

“In our line of work, you’re one of the best. But in that line of work you’re the only one, man.” Eliot has a soft smile at the end of that, and it's a bit painful, even as I saw it coming, to hear Eliot suggest that Hardison begin to step away from the team’s day to day.

“It’s okay to grow up, to realize you’re not the person you used to be.” None of them are the person they used to be. Not Sophie, not Parker, not Hardison, and certainly not Eliot. They can see that in each other if not in themselves. (Eliot, being the most grounded of all of them, already knew he’d changed eight years ago.)

“You never grew up.”/“Yeah. I achieved perfection pretty early, huh?” Even as Eliot’s the most grounded, even though he’s the one saying that there’s no one else that could fill Hardison’s role in that other work, the idea that Hardison might actually choose to step away from the team is too raw to handle without turning to humor.

Harry’s a bit jumpy, but he’s learning to play it off. I like that he’s a very different character from Nate, that it’s not his anger or ego driving him so much as a desire to make restitution.

And a “Dammit Hardison”

Ooh, Eliot’s in the vents too, just in time to help Parker. (She doubtless has her beloved taser but that would take time away from getting into the vault.)

“I smell lasers” Ahahahahaha

“You’re going to compare me to Eliot right now?” (’over the comms, where others who aren’t Eliot can hear?’ Hardison did not say out loud.)

ouch, okay, Hardison hurting his back like that might be what actually makes him choose the other gig over the team, or at what makes him take a little vacation so he can heal from that. (back injuries are nothing to play around with!)

how did Maxwell get past Eliot? but it’s all good, Eliot’s right behind to disarm him. And Parker’s been doing her hitting lessons, she didn’t even need a taser or to stab anyone!

Oh Harry, the bomb will be used, it’s just not time yet.

New Orleans gumbo is its own food group.

Okay so Hardison’s done a lot of work getting this place in order... WAIT IS THAT A PUNCHING BAG? That’s a punching bag! It might not be the love-letter the brewpub was but it’s definitely a thing added specifically for Eliot.

Oh no, Eliot might realize what Hardison’s doing with this, but Parker hasn’t caught up yet that Hardison’s going to be taking a break from the team.

Parker’s blindsided by this, and she’s upset, but she’s not mad because why didn’t she see this coming she should have seen it, so she leaves to deal with her emotions alone. Hardison follows, naturally, she knew he would, but she can’t face him because then he’ll see her crying, and Parker doesn’t do emotions easily. She’s torn between wanting him to help people and wanting to be with him (and she can’t go with him, she needs to be helping people too).

And Parker doesn’t want Breanna there without Hardison. Again because it’d put Hardison’s family in danger and that’s a step too far for Parker if Hardison doesn’t okay it. And also because with Hardison leaving, Breanna’s just going to be reminders of what Parker’s missing. And Breanna doesn’t have Hardison’s skillset, can’t fill his shoes - not that she should but she can’t, and Parker, I think, is already mentally preparing herself to go it alone again. Because if this job needs Hardison so bad, then surely Eliot’s got some project that needs his specific attention, and it was just one job for Breanna, and Sophie’s been adamant that this is one last job for her, and Harry’s still new and will probably decide to do his own thing given time to think... I think that’s where her brain is at, at least for the next thirty seconds, before she catches up with herself and realizes that more like the time she busted her leg than the team dissolving around her. (This kind of went weird places but that’s stream of thought for me)

And as they come back in Parker’s already cheering up some, because that wave of despair has already blown over. Yeah, she’s not a parent, but she’s good at teaching when she tries.

“It could be a reunion tour.”/“No. I’m retired.” It’s very different from Nate’s old protestations. He was not a thief. Whereas with Sophie it’s not ready. And while they all point out that she’s been happier while doing cons, that they could use the help, it’s not forceful or overpowering. It’s still Sophie’s decision. They’re not going to make her house their new base and taunt her with it; they’re not the sort of people who’d do that anymore, and anyway that’d be cruel instead of a fun sort of goading.

And because they give Sophie space to make a decision, while she doesn’t want to make a long-term commitment, she’s willing to take on ‘just a few more’.

#leverage redemption spoilers #leverage spoilers #spoilers #redemption 1x02 #MAJOR SPOILERS

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soartfullydone · 3 years

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No. 3 - STICKS AND STONES MAY BREAK MY BONES BUT… taunting | insults | “Who did this to you?” Delethil/Riven/Eravin requested by @editoress

More of the OT3, we cannot be stopped

The saw cut through the wood with too much jagged force. If Eravin didn’t stop to take a second and breathe, he was more likely to lose a finger than trim the branches off this fallen tree. But pausing might mean he’d start to examine why he was so angry, and Eravin didn’t do introspection. Better for the feelings to boil and seethe like a pot of water over a fire and then fade away like steam as they always do.

One of the branches cracked under his hands. Eravin lowered the saw and brought up his leg, snapping the branch the rest of the way off with a swift kick of his booted heel. That felt good. He definitely hadn’t pictured anyone’s face he was stomping in instead. The leaves rattled and sighed as he dragged the limb away from the trunk.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” said a bright voice through his tetchy mood. “Are wood elf tempers more behavioral or cultural at this point?”

The briefest chuckle huffed out of him. “Shouldn’t ye know?”

He tossed the limb, watching it land at the foot of a rough tangle of trees behind his property. It would be able to rot there peacefully. Eravin brushed his hands off on his pants and returned to the tree. Riven was there, a foot against the trunk and inspecting his saw between her hands.

“My temper’s better than yours,” she answered lightly.

“Your temperament, maybe.” He tugged the saw away from her and crouched down to get back to work. “When you’re angry, though, up in arms doesn’t cover it.”

“You’re supposed to say it makes me fiery and exciting.”

The tips of his ears were hot. “Del might say that because he manages to be worse than ye. And he’s a fool. Me, I know a threat when I see one.”

Arms straining, Eravin pulled the saw back and forth through a thicker branch. For a moment, that was all the sound that was between them. Finally, Riven asked, “What’s made ye all fiery today, then?”

Eravin’s neck was warm, or maybe that was the afternoon sun beating down on it. He paused to wipe the sweat off his brow. “Nothing,” he said gruffly. “Tree fell, is all.”

“Aye, trees fall,” Riven agreed, “but it didn’t fall on your shop or anything. No wasps around to sting ya or owls to bother ya. So what’s wrong?”

He sighed, contemplating leaving the saw stuck in the limb and retreating to his workshop. But that would just confirm Riven’s suspicions, and she would follow him anyway. Instead, he sat back on his haunches and insisted, “It doesn’t matter, so—”

“It matters to me. Who did it, then? Did Del say something to piss ya off?”

“Wasn’t Del.”

“Tell me who I’m beating up then! We can get Del in on it, too. It’s important for new, uh, triples to have bonding activities.”

Right, and have Del disappear his own men the way he used to terrorize Riven’s suitors. Absolutely not, not for something as idiotic as this.

Aye, Eravin thought the whole thing was idiotic. His hurt feelings, Riven’s concern, all of it. But she wasn’t going to drop it. Eravin resumed sawing with abandon. Maybe she wouldn’t hear him over the noise, his words directed at the wood chippings falling to his feet. “Just a few of the lads acting the maggot.”

Silence fell again. Eravin didn’t continue. Riven didn’t ask. The beats stretched on and on.

A rough, impatient sigh. “And?” Riven sounded frustrated, probably with the both of them. She hadn’t quite learned how to force him to say more than he wanted to. “What did the worms say? I’m hoping it’s good. I haven’t gotten to throw as many punches as I thought I would comin’ home.”

“It’s really not important, Riven.”

“Oh. So it was about me then.”

She’s pretty, all right, Cashal had said, but Delethil’s had plenty of pretty. He’ll get bored with her soon enough, and me arms will be right here, wide open.

The saw snagged on something. Eravin was distracted. “No! No, it wasn’t that. They were just…” He left the saw stuck in place and rose to his full height. Swiped a hand over his face and dampened his hair with even more sweat. “They were just being arses, and it got on my nerves. Tha’s all.”

“Was it about Del?”

“If it were, he wouldn’t give two shites.” He leaned over the tree, looked deep in her eyes, and said, “And if you’re not gonna help with this, ye can go, lass. I’m busy.”

Riven glared right back at him and slowly drew a dagger from behind her back. Rather than plunging it into his chest, she crouched down and started carving something on the other side of the tree.

Eravin cursed under his breath. Well, he hadn’t specified how she could help, had he? He yanked the saw free and stepped closer to where the break had occurred at the base of the trunk. He cut away the thin strips that still tethered the tree to its stump, keeping time with the steady thunk, thunk of Riven’s blade on the wood.

“Well, whatever they said,” Riven continued nonchalantly, “it’s not true. Or it’s not worth gettin’ into a twist over. Or maybe they are right, but fuck ‘em. Who cares?” She shrugged at him from the other side. “Hard to know which sympathies to give when I don’t know the details, but… I had to hit one of them, aye?”

She looked at him so hopefully, it made him embarrassed, ashamed. Not for the first time, he wished he had Del’s eloquence, only without the bullshit. He wished he had Riven’s warmth, her willingness to be vulnerable over and over no matter how many times she got hurt for it. He wished he could see himself the way these two people so clearly could.

He wished he could tell them everything he thought and felt easily, without any embellishing, or self-deprecation, or stumbling. But he couldn’t bare himself like that, not yet. Eravin didn’t want to make trouble, especially not to the two people who, beyond all reasoning, had chosen him over everyone else.

The words he’d overheard came back so loudly, he nearly flinched.

But what about Eravin?

You’re taking the piss. Boss got his throne. What’s he gonna need with Glenmere after this? I’m not even sure why he bothered with ‘im in the first place. We’ve better archers—and better looking.

He doesn’t even want to be here, does he? Wants to just live and die in that little shop of his. I say, let him. No fun to be around, and the drink makes him worse!

Eravin picked a few young leaves off a scraggly vine growing up the trunk, flicking them to the ground one by one. “Del’s gonna stay true to ye, y’know? He’s wanted ye so bad for so long, he’d never think about another lass.”

Riven’s jaw slackened, surprised. Her response was wry. “I should hope so, or else his reign’ll be the shortest in Aeranth’s history, it will.”

Too late, Eravin realized how the sudden topic change had come across. Too late, he realized that he should’ve added that he’d be the one to kill Del before Riven could. “No, I—What I meant was, ye don’t have anything to worry about. That includes Del. And that includes me.”

“That’s good. For a minute there, it was nothing but worryin’.” Riven cocked her head thoughtfully, focusing on her carving. “It’s the same the other way around, y’know. Del’s not gonna let you go, either. And ya won’t scare me away.” Her teeth flashed in a grin. “So I guess we better keep making sure we all really, really like each other, aye, Erry?”

His entire face turned beet red. Ducking his head, Eravin answered, his mouth quirking up despite himself, “Aye, Riv. That we will.”

#whumptober2021 #oc: riven arnor #oc: eravin glenmere #oc: delethil aismere #campaign: last resort movers inc #cue scene #for inquiring minds: riven is carving all of their initials in the tree like a sap #she'll carve a dick somewhere else

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eyrieofsynapses · 3 years

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so today I just watched the first episode of Almost Paradise! And I’ve gotta say, I am impressed. I already had it on my watchlist but I was planning to wait to watch it for a while until I could let Eliot fade a bit from memory, just so I wouldn’t automatically think of him while watching Kane. But I ran into an article this weekend about how it was filmed in the Philippines and the details of that, and my curiosity was piqued considerably more, so I figured... why not?

(I also started White Collar this weekend and that was very enjoyable, but that’s a post for another day.)

Anyway, my brain’s buzzing now, so have some first impressions and reactions, plus initial meta-analysis because I am intrigued. In hindsight I probably should have recorded first impressions while I was watching, but I’ll do my best to remember the bits that stuck out. Warning for... exceedingly long post.

ooo, okay, so he’s got a medical condition. I faaaaintly remember reading about this in the summary but I didn’t pay much attention to that, oops.

telling a guy played by Chris Kane not to get his heartrate up! that’s definitely gonna happen. definitely. one hundred percent. not like this guy loves fighting or anything

(also tbh the joke about, ah, sexual dysfunction admittedly left a sour taste in my mouth, because I do not go for that kind of thing, but... this is Devlin and Kane, so I’m trusting, based off Leverage experience, that they aren’t gonna be too inappropriate. [In hindsight there are actually interesting meta reasons for this so the sour taste has dissipated somewhat.])

this poor doctor. she’s so done with him.

...he’s definitely not gonna pay attention to the monitor is he

that journal’s gonna get zero use oop

(I was duly impressed when he actually did use it later)

huh, liking how we immediately dive into the effect tourism has had on the Philippines. so we’re getting some commentary here too? I can deal with that

...wow. bad shop. eek

I’m sorry but I am loving the touch with the floorboards and such breaking beneath Alex. the look on his face is just perfect

and the monitor goes off! for tbh the last reason I expected it to first go off for, excellent

MOTORCYLE? did they give him a motorcycle?!

awww no it’s the baddies who have the motorcycle :(

hmm this should be interesting. loving the look of this leader guy tho

--aaaand good asthetic guy is dead! with an ice pick! creepy and creative!

bar. no way this could go wrong

internal battle! understandable that Alex wants out, buuuuuuut if he’s anything like I suspect he is--

--yup, picking a fight, with a damn pool cue--

--not picking a fight?

...picking a fight. by being friendly. *sigh*

yuuuuuuuup. that’s definitely good for your heart

badass fighting scene! with a pool cue, that’s a new one! love seeing Kane take ordinary objects and turn them into fighting tools

(ngl this had Eliot vibes. that said I am thrilled to see how damn good these fight scenes are and this is making me even more excited for Redemption)

aaaaaaaaaand oh fuck this was a police setup. which. I actually did not see coming, huh

ahahah they’re pissed! because he messed up their bust? or because he just saved their asses?

...probably technically the former but I suspect the latter is also true

refusing to get Involved being foreshadowed by his indecision earlier! of course he’s going to get Involved anyway, only question is how

“hitter” I SEE YOU. I SEE YOU AND YOUR REFERENCES. I SEE YOU DEVLIN AND KANE

pfffffffffffFFFFFT the meditation, oh gods

that voice. oh Alex.

I genuinely cannot tell if this is him actually trying or if this is him begrudgingly making an attempt because he has to

lacquering(?) the doors, which, hey, actually look pretty nice--this place is gonna look good when it’s done isn’t iii--

oh fuck Alex is being attacked

(this is definitely something to be concerned about. yes. totally. not like we haven’t already seen him take down a bunch of guys.)

with a garrot! this is definitely totally not how he’s gonna get Involved

oh my gods the detail with the paint. nothing says Competent like getting irritated at how the baddie interrupted your house restoration

hehehehe Involved

oooh, hmm, he thinks they sent the guy after him? what kind of corruption has Alex faced? I mean it’s not an unreasonable fear, but jeez, it sounds like this has happened to him before. doesn’t say much good about the DEA...

huh, this is a level of disturbed I haven’t seen from Kane before. which, granted, I have only seen him in Leverage, but I’ve never seen him pull this out before. the voice crack is an excellent touch

also, worth noting, Alex is definitely a notable level of... hmm, paranoid? this is just a tad bit frantic, though that’s understandable from a guy who almost got killed while in the middle of an attempted meditation

oh god being cocky in the middle of a briefing. poor Kai

--being cocky and competence porn! of course he takes the watch and turns it into a lesson

...he must be a hell of a teacher

(also, bonus points for actually using the journal. maybe he’s taking this health thing more seriously than I thought he would?)

may I repeat: COMPETENCE PORN

uh-huh, you’re so not involved, definitely, Alex, not like you’re gonna get pulled straight into this or anything

Ernesto is just watching to see how things play out, Kai is... trying to do things the right way, and Alex...

...Alex gives precisely zero fucks. buddy you are so not subtle

right, walking straight into the lion’s den! radiating confidence! terrifying

this is a disturbing level of truth he’s sharing for this lie. I mean, best lies are crafted from truth, but... jeez

hm. so is Alex also a “I don’t like guns” type guy?

(probably not for the same reasons as Eliot doesn’t [his is definitely more in the “they make it too easy to kill” department whereas I would guess Alex has either more tactical or PTSD reasons], but, hmm. this is something to watch for)

(did they know they were bringing back Leverage when they set up Almost Paradise? I’m genuinely wondering if they didn’t write some Eliot traits into Alex specifically bc they knew Kane missed playing him)

this is a fantastically confident level of grifting--what exactly did he do in the DEA, precisely?

...ah. cool asthetic guy. stuffed in the freezer. gotta admit, I definitely didn’t see that one coming. creepy!

(and it looks like you actually managed to shake Alex a little, hah)

aaaaaand in the meantime we have Kai following his advice! in an... interesting way. hm.

(surprisingly this does not annoy me that much in hindsight. not sure why)

and understandably, this does not go over well! except, oh, fuck, DEA guy. this ain’t gonna be good

...worse. worse than I thought. what happened to you, Alex? former partner? whaaat

“attacks”?

this gonna be the typical “traumatized white dude has Anger Attacks” type thing?

honestly I immediately went “probably not” given how it was handled in Leverage. wasn’t sure though. but that does leave the question of what sort of attacks? it doesn’t seem like it’d be meltdowns, so what does that leave?

hmmm. DEA guy is an Ass. we Do Not Like him. I’ve known Alex for less than half an hour but you do not do that to him. you do not use trauma against your guy, Jerkface.

cutting a deal? this should be interesting

...well shit. I. am sincerely hoping Kai isn’t about to walk in on anything too bad

this definitely isn’t gonna be a fight though, that I called right off the bat

--bottles. dammit

oh, Christ. attempted OD or just drunk?

just drunk! good! well, very Not Good, but better than the other thing

pffffft dunking him in the water and then him going straight back to the water when he sees her, that is both absolutely hilarious and deeply concerning

aaand I’m agreeing with Kai but also, poor guy just got confronted with a hell of a lot of things that would raise his trau--

...mm. yeah. that’d be it.

...I. was. not expecting that much backstory info straight off. holy cow, Alex. that is. messed up. someone get this man a hug

“one of the guys that cared too much”

(...like you?)

(or is that why you won’t let yourself care now?)

fuck, there was a lot more to that boat scene than I thought. ow

partner who betrayed him like that? I’m just. gods.

Trust Issues is definitely gonna be a Thing isn’t it

can we just take a second to appreciate how Christian Kane is playing the absolute hell out of this character

aaaand Kai brings him back to the city for a Heartwarming Reminder of why he was in the game! this is very tropey but it is, as John Rogers has pointed out, an instance of the “well-worn writing tool” rather than feeling cheesy!

holy crap Kai has lost. a lot of people. oh man

ahahahaha classic “why did you bring me here?” line! you know why, Alex. you know why

oh, and Ernesto gets a chance to help him out! I’m already enjoying this so much

awww and Kai shows up to help encourage him! with coffee! supportive friend and very obvious but honestly okay love interest! good!!!

(what the heck is with Devlin and his crew and sticking Kane with two besties? based on Ernesto’s dynamic with him I’m guessing this isn’t gonna be an OT3 but. I am loving the trend)

“I’m gonna regret this in the morning” pfft

huh, working with the DEA agents. not like he’s gonna go off script or anything. that’s totally not gonna happen is it

hehe irritated look while they’re putting on the mic. he is so very unimpressed

--”little episodes”--episodes?

moment of appreciation for the un-forced-feeling diversity in these police squads

“how’s the anxiety?” I’m sorry what

hold up, when we say “episodes”--are we talking panic attacks? does Alex have actual goddamn anxiety?

...actually with PTSD? that would make complete sense. I am... intrigued. I am really hoping that that’s the case, actually, because having seen how well they handled Parker and her PTSD in Leverage (as well as Nate’s and Eliot’s) I have a lot of faith that they could pull that off really well, actually. That would be good.

ppFFFT TAKING OFF THE WIRES RIGHT OFF THE BAT

wait what. you’re telling them everything? what’s your game here?

“get that frikkin gun outta my face!” yup, not a fan of guns! no disarming though? huh

(also can we just. appreciate how Kane manages to make “frikkin” sound just as much like the cuss it’s replacing?)

(LET ALEX SAY FUCK)

oh. OH

hi Ernesto! hi Kai! I see what y’all doing

ohhhhhhhhhh Alex you goddamn genius. Getting rid of all of the drugs so there’s no way the precise thing he was claiming to be doing can happen. I like this

THE MEDITATION COMING ON ON THE RECORDING I CAN’T--OH MY GODS

Alex please tell me you know how to disarm a gun. please. guns are not effective at that distance

OH. OH I DID NOT SEE KAI COMING.

got ‘em! murder confession, how did I not see that coming? good stuff

Kai can fight!

KAI CAN FUCKING FIGHT WOW

I am very much appreciating Kai right now

also is that a FLYING KICK from Ernesto?

they better give these people more fight scenes

aaaaand straight into the water, oh god. I’m assuming this was a choice made because Alex is familiar with this territory? ...I do not think I want to know where Alex learned to fight underwater.

(I really really really want to know.)

how the fuck has your monitor not gone off by now Alex

choking him out underwater, okay, wow

what size are your lungs? this is long

extra kudos for excellent underwater filming and wow I am hoping the actors actually came up for air

(this is also unreasonably beautiful for a scene where you’re choking out a drug lord. the water is so pretty)

Evil DEA guy (no I am not going to learn his name, he doesn’t deserve it) is gonna be Alex’s Agent Sterling, isn’t he? this should be interesting

heh, police chief is taking his side! good stuff, good stuff

(it is very nice to see Alex getting some people in his corner after knowing what hell the DEA put him through)

Alex has fallen so damn hard for Kai. this is very very adorable actually

awww he’s really getting into fixing up the shop, isn’t he? I’m sincerely looking forward to seeing how he gets this up and going, it really looks like he’s enjoying himself

somehow I am starting to wonder if the cocky “oh yeah I’m opening up a gift shop how exciting huh” thing at the start wasn’t... actually genuine. he... is enjoying this, isn’t he? good. very good

I am unreasonably invested in this man’s wellbeing for one episode in

!!!!!!!!! HE GETS HIS PARADE

AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

giving him his reason to keep going! yes! yessss

oh Alex you are attached now. you are very attached. good luck my dude and don’t let the trust issues get in the way

this is a good show. this is a heckin awesome show.

also, side note, it is SO PRETTY

I am just loving loving loving all of the scenery. competence porn AND landscape and city porn. beautiful. perfection. excellent

...that was. much longer than I anticipated oops

anyway, conclusion: hot damn this is a fun show! I am very excited to keep watching this. Alex officially has my heart, even if he’s a bit of a cocky bastard sometimes. Kane is fucking hilarious. (More reasons to be excited for Redemption!) Kai and Ernesto also have my heart, and I am extremely interested to see their character development.

Honestly, the beauty is surprising. I didn’t expect to just enjoy how pretty it is. The blues of the ocean, the intense tropical colors, even the run-down gift shop--there’s such a gorgeous aesthetic to it all. If I wasn’t already invested in the characters and plot, I’d be invested for that alone.

So... I have some thoughts on Alex and the show structure.

He’s obviously very disillusioned. There’s a lot of nods to the idea of war--he’s commonly referring to himself as a soldier, as a veteran, maybe as a casualty. I’m gonna take a totally wild guess here and say this show is going to be focused on the drug issues in the Philippines. (Wow, Synapse, how the heck’d you guess that?) I do find describing the war on drugs as a war, and going into the terminology that comes with it, very appropriate, and I like how this show is actively calling this to attention rather than using it as a convenient plot. They’re actually addressing the issue and discussing its impact. And given how overlooked certain aspects of the impact of the drug war on the Philippines is, this is a good choice, especially in order to alert American viewers to the issue. I’m curious to see how they handle that.

Again, interesting drawing parallels to war, too, and comparing it against the likes of WWI and Vietnam. It really gives that sense of weight to the issue and defines a vital aspect of it: the impact of the war on drugs on the people involved. It emphasizes that the people who are fighting it suffer consequences and PTSD just as a soldier in the field does, and it also emphasizes, with Kai, that it isn’t just the people actively fighting who bear the consequences. It’s also the people on the sidelines--it’s the families, the people on the streets by the gunfights, the economical impact, etcetera.

But there’s also an element to Alex’s character that automatically makes him relatable to a lot of people... and it has nothing to do with the PTSD, nothing to do with the war on drugs, nothing really to do with the main issues. It is, simply, the intense hopelessness and depression that comes with trying to make a difference. In his case it’s making a difference on a severe worldwide issue. But the vast majority, if not all, of Almost Paradise’s audience should be able to relate to a feeling of never doing enough. And there’s certainly a large section of that group who can relate to being part of a fight that never seems to end. Doesn’t matter what you’re doing--if it’s driven at helping, it rarely ever feels like you ever do enough. But the advice given is excellent. One of the best things to do, when you’re feeling hopeless over this, is to focus on and take deep joy in the impact you do make.

Alex is an expression of a frustration that a lot of people deal with. This, I think, is one of the reasons why he instantly drew me--and presumably the rest of the audience--in (outside of a fantastic actor and great humor). He’s relatable. He’s something that most people can see a part of themselves in.

Anyway, symbolism and real-world talk aside, this is just... fun. It’s genuine fun. We’re covering rough issues, but there’s a lot of well-written tropes in here too that are written in that way that makes them enjoyable to relive rather than painful. The humor is delightful and plentiful. There’s a lot of beautiful feel-good moments. I’m suspecting this’ll be a comfort show, and I am perfectly all right with that.

Onto the next episode!

#Almost Paradise #Almost Paradise spoilers #Almost Paradise 1x01 #reaction post #christian kane #(please please please let these be the right tags)#synapse reacts #this is a new thing!#hopefully y'all like the new thing!#even though I am exceedingly long-winded #I mean this is basically the equivalent of me yelling into the void #but I need SOME void to yell into #so this might as well be it #and perhaps someone'll get a kick out of it #so why not?

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drivingsideways · 3 years

Text

k-drama rec list

Prior to 2020 I’d maybe watched 2 k-dramas in my entire life, but this year I got sucked in, thanks to some great recs, and y’know, *gestures * everything.

I think I’d held off watching kdramas because my impression of them was limited to romances that I didn’t enjoy at all. But this was the year I discovered the equivalent of “gen fic” kdrama- dramas that had wonderful ensemble casts, strong story lines that weren’t entirely romance focused and also a variety in terms of themes and styles. A big plus was that I found so many of these dramas had women leading the writers’ room, and seeing the effect of that in the story telling. (Notable exceptions: a certain “star” writer who should please stop inflicting her badly written, formulaic crap on the world, yes Kim Eun-Sook, I mean you, and whoever wrote that trashfire Flower of Evil)

So here I am with my own rec list! Caveat- these are mostly not the dramas released in 2020, I’m still playing catch up! :)

Under the cut for length

My Mister/ My Ahjussi (2018, Written by Park Hae-Young, Directed by Kim Won-Seok, starring Lee Sun-kyun and Lee Ji-eun aka IU)

This was definitely my absolute favourite of the shows I watched this year across western/ asian media. It’s a story about the thread that binds us all and the ineffability of human connection. It’s also a story that deconstructs ideas of masculinity and honour and shame in a non-western context, but with an extremely compassionate touch. It’s a story that doesn’t shy away from showing the consequences of material and spiritual poverty; and how one can so easily feed into the other. It’s a love story that isn’t a romance, except that it’s a Romance. It’s about finding salvation in one another and in the kindness of strangers. It’s about choosing life, and picking yourself up off the floor to take that one last step and then the next and then the next. The one quibble I have with the series is that it could have been better paced, it does get extremely slow after the half way mark. But god, do they land the ending. Both Lee Sun-kyun and IU turn in absolutely heartbreaking performances, and fair warning, be prepared to go through an entire box of tissues watching this series.

Life (2018, written by Lee Soo-yeon and directed by Hong Jong-chan, starring Lee Dong-wook, Cho Seung-woo, Won Jin-ah, Lee Kyu-hyung, Yoo Jae-myung and Moon So-ri.)

Medical dramas are very much not my thing, and I wouldn’t have taken a chance on it except that @michyeosseo said I should, and she was right! It’s a medical drama in the sense that it’s set in a hospital, but rather than a “case-fic” format, this is actually a sharp commentary on the corporatization of health care, and the business of mixing, well, money and what should be a fundamental human right. Writer Lee Soo-yeon was coming off the global success of Stranger/Secret Forest S1 when this aired, so I understand that expectations were probably sky-high, and people were disappointed when this show didn’t give them the adrenaline rush that they wanted. On the other hand, I thought that this outing was really much more nuanced in terms of the politics and also how the ending doesn’t allow you the luxury of easy-fixes. This show has a great ensemble cast, and while it took me a while to get used to Lee Dong-wook’s woodenness (i ended up calling him mr.cadaver after watching this and was surprised to learn that he’s very popular?), in the end I was quite sold on his version of angry angst-bucket elder-sibling Dr.Ye Jin-woo. His best scenes were with Lee Kyu-hyung who turns in a lovely, achy performance as the paraplegic Dr. Ye Seon-woo who just wants to live a normal life. The love story between the two brothers is actually the emotional backbone of the story, and I think they landed that perfectly.

My one quibble with writer-nim is that she ended up writing in a forgettable and somewhat (for me at least) uncomfortable romance between the characters played by Won Jin-ah and Cho Seung-Woo. I think part of my uncomfortable-feeling was that I got the strong sense that the writer herself didn’t want to write this romance, it was as if she was being made to shoe-horn it in for Studio Reasons, and she basically grit her teeth and did the worst possible job of it. I do wish we could have absolutely had the OT3 of my dreams: Moon So-ri/Cho Seung-woo/Yoo Jae-myung like, c’mon TV gods MAKE IT HAPPEN, just...look at them!!!!

Anyway, that apart, I think this was a very engaging series, and by engaging, I also mean thirst-enabling, see below.

Stranger (aka Secret Forest or Forest of Secrets) S1 & 2 : (2017-, Written by Lee Soo-yeon, directed by

2017′s smash hit aired a much anticipated second season in 2020, and I managed to catch up just in time to watch that live, so that was thrilling :D . Writer Lee Soo-yeon mixes up thriller/office comedy/political commentary in an ambitious series. I think S1 is more “exciting” than S2 in terms of the mystery and pacing, but S2 is far more dense and interesting in terms of political commentary because it takes a long hard look at institutional corruption and in true writer-nim fashion doesn’t prescribe any easy solutions. Anyway, please enjoy public prosecutor Cho Seung-woo and police officer Bae Doona as partners/soulmates kicking ass and taking names in pursuit of Truth, Justice and just a goddamn peaceful meal, along with a stunningly competent ensemble cast. Also yes, Han Yeo Jin is a lesbian, sorry, I don’t make the rules.

Search: WWW (2019, Written by Kwon Do-Eun, directed by Jung Ji-hyun & Kwon Young-il, starring Im Soo-jung, Lee Da-hee, Jeon Hye-jin)

GOD. Where do I start? +1000 for writer Kwon Do-Eun saying “fuck the patriarchy” in the most grandiose way possible, i.e. absolutely refusing to acknowledge that it exists. Yes, this is that power fantasy, and it’s also a fun, slice-of-life tale about three women navigating their way through work, romance, national politics and everything in between. It’s true that I wasn’t entirely sold on the amount of time spent on the romance, and I really wish they’d actually had a textual wlw romance, though the subtext through the entire series is PRACTICALLY TEXT. But still, it maintains that veneer of plausible deniability and I think queer fans who are sick of that kind of treatment in media have a very valid grouse against the show. On the other hand, personally I felt that the queer-platonic vibe of the show is very wonderful and true to real life, and it was only reinforced by the ending. This is a show written by a woman for women (like me), and it shows.

Hyena (2020, Written by Kim Roo-Ri, directed by Jang Tae-yoo & Lee Chang Woo, starring Kim Hye-soo and Ju Ji-hoon )

Those of you who’ve been watching hit zombie epic Kingdom are probably familiar with Ju Ji-hoon’s brand of sexiness already. I had not watched Kingdom and got hit in the face by Mr.Sexy McSexyPants’ turn as a brash, privileged-by-birth, up and coming lawyer who gets completely runover by the smoking hot and incredibly dangerous fellow lawyer/competitor from the other side of the tracks in the person of Kim Hye-Soo. When I say they set the room on fire, I mean it, ok. Every single scene between these two is an actual bonfire of sexual attraction and emotional hand grenades, and they’re both absolutely riveting to watch. “Flower of Evil” wishes they had what this show has- an actual grown up romance as opposed to a thirteen year old twilight fan’s idea of an adult romance.

The “lawyer” shenanigans and the “cases” are hit or miss, and I think the occasional comedy fell flat for me. But that’s not why I mainlined like 6 episodes of this series overnight like a coke addict, and that’s not why you’re going to do it either. It’s so RARE, even in these enlightened days to find a female character like Jung Geum-ja: hard as nails, unapologetic about it, and not punished by the narrative for it. The best part for me is that she feels like a woman’s woman, not a man’s idea of what a Strong Female Character should be. Anyways, when I grow up I want to have what Kim Hye-soo has ok?

Other dramas that I watched this year, quickly rated:

The King: Eternal Monarch (3/10 and those 3 points are only for the combined goodness of second leads who deserved better- Jung Eun Chae, Woo Do Hwan and Kim Kyung Nam. Please head over to my AO3 and read my attempts to fix this garbage fire and rescue their characters from canon)

Flower of Evil (-10/100, dont @ me)

Tale of the Nine Tailed (5/10, I think it succeeds at what it set out to do, which is a light hearted, sweet fantasy-romance-melodrama, plus “second lead” Kim Beom will make you cry as the hot mess of a half human/ half fox spirit ALL TEARS character. I think if you’re into kdrama romances as a genre, this is probably a good bet?)

Signal (7/10, This was the first full kdrama I watched this year and would definitely recommend. It’s a police procedural with time travel shenanigans and has an engaging plot, good pacing, texture and compelling performances. My one disappointment with it was the way they wrote Kim Hye-soo’s character. As literally the only female character to survive in any way, she was given short shrift, and toward the end it really began to grate on me.)

Six Flying Dragons - (7/10, also would recommend if you’re interested in Korean historicals. It definitely already feels a bit dated in terms of styling and production values, and even scripting and acting choices. But it has a good balance of fantasy and history and political commentary. I was not a fan of Yoo In-Ah’s performance in this series, but it’s not anything that would make you want to nope out of the series. It’s GoT , if GoT was thoughtful about politics and characters and not the misogynist, racist trashfire that it became.)

My Country: The New Age - (3.5/10, and that’s 3 points to Jang Hyuk’s fan and 0.5.points to Woo Do Hwan’s heaving bosom. If you like your historical drama/fantasy with very pretty men, very gay subtext -seriously RIP to show makers who thought they could hetero it but didn’t account for Woo Do Hwan’s Tragic Face- lots of blood and tears and very nonsense plot, this is right up your alley. I probably would have enjoyed it more in other circumstances, I think? But this one just annoyed me too much at the time!

I have a couple of more dramas to watch on my list, that’ll probably carry me over into 2021, so see ya on the other side! :D

#k-drama #kdrama rec list #2020: A YEAR #i'm a queue for you

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thompsborn · 4 years

Note

I'm ~indecisive~ so either parkner, parksborn, or ot3 (Peter/harley/harry), OR just something Harley centric pleeaassee love you hope you're doing well 😊💗💗

wasteland, baby by hozier

be still, my indelible friend

you are unbreaking

though quaking

though crazy

that's just wasteland, baby

[send me a character/ship/dynamic/etc. and i’ll put my music on shuffle and write a drabble/one shot based on the first song that plays!]

i have literally no clue what happened with this, literally i saw the song and was like wow yes hozier song for a harley centric ot3 one shot? perfect! and then it just. devolved? evolved? developed. somehow. into this gay panic lonely tennessee boy meeting two dumb fucked up and traumatized boys on a road trip before they start college and ??? i have no fucking clue tbh

tw: internalized homophobia, classic southern rose hill homophobia, a much thicker version of southern accent typing than i usually do, vague mentions/hints of toxic/abusive home life via one mr harry osborn, basically just canon based trauma but only talked about in passing

Harley feels life like a pressure pushing down on his chest.

It isn’t heavy, per se, but it isn’t light, either - rather a constant weight, comfortable at times, overwhelming at others. He will carry it down the street like a backpack strapped around his shoulders and pressed into the dimples at the base of his spine and he may wince and he may want to whine, but he’ll just smile with the warmth of sunshine radiating from his skin like he is the sun itself, and he will nod his head in greeting at any lonesome soul he passes.

Lonesome as him, at least. Lonesome as lonesome could ever really get.

He’s got his Mama, is the thing—and he loves his Mama with all he’s got, feels it seize up in his chest sometimes, his heart palpitating rapidly as it tries to process just how much love he holds in his chest like a secret he can’t quite share. Got his Mama and his sister, Annabelle, and her missing teeth that she loves to show off with every dimple cheeked grin that she flashes them, a nine year old girl who loves to have her hair braided back and resting between her shoulder blades like a signature, something that is solely hers. Harley can’t see braids without thinking of Belle and her crinkly nose and the laugh lines around her eyes when she can’t stop the chortles that rise from her chest. Belle and their Mama are all that he’s really got, and he wouldn’t trade them for the world.

But he wonders if there’s anyone out there who would really understand what he means when he says, “Life just feels a bit heavy today.” His Mama tries to, but she doesn’t get it, feels the pressures and the struggles of life differently than he does, because he knows she feels the aches and pains just as much as him, if not more so, but she has an energy that he doesn’t seem to have access to, an ability to chime a laugh without feeling like it’s too heavy in her poor lungs to make much of a sound. Belle doesn’t show any of the signs that Harley did when he was her age of any sort of weight pushing down her shoulders, because he felt it early, early, early—far too early than any child ever deserves, but he saw his father walk out that door with a half-assed smile and an unconvincing promise to return and that weight appeared like a lump in his throat and a stinging of tears behind his eyes and it’s only grown and shifted and intensified since then, really, but Belle doesn’t seem to have that weight, or any weight at all, and Harley hopes to the heavens above (that scare him shitless on a good day, really) that she never has to feel like him.

Because he is horribly, terrifyingly alone, sometimes. Sitting on the sofa with his Mama sitting to his right, his sister curled up in between them, letting out endearing little snorts when something funny happens in whatever show they’re watching, and his Mama could be brushing back his hair like she did when he was a kid, Belle could be snuggled in his lap and laughing into his chest, he could be surrounded by the two most important people in his life, the only two people in his life, and he could still stare at that television screen and feel a gaping wound in his chest that nothing can fill. There’s weight, pressure, heaviness--and an emptiness, in the center of it all. A vacancy that may never be filled. Like the eye of a hurricane that never seems to rest.

Then a far too fancy looking car rolls up in Rose Hill, parks itself in the dirt lot of the only motel in town, and everything seems to shift.

“I’m Harry,” one of the oddities tells him, when Harley stops by Rita’s Diner because his Mama is taking Belle to a doctor’s appointment in the next town over but wanted him to pick up her paycheck for her. The guy looks nothing like anyone in Rose Hill ever has, a sleek black blazer over a white shirt with a slogan that Harley can’t read from where he’s standing, dark blue skinny jeans and a fancy kind of tennis shoes that don’t have a smudge of dirt on them, his hand extended towards Harley, head tilted to the side, eyes green and piercing as they scan over Harley in some kind of intrigue.

Harley’s been born and raised to be polite, so he shakes the guys hand and says, “Harley Keener. Nice t’meet you, Harry...?”

The ends of Harry’s lips curve, twist. “Lyman,” he fills in, brow quirking. There’s a quiet snort that fills in the gap of silence that follows, and then Harry is turning, hand still clutching Harley’s in an almost hand shake, looking at the guy sitting beside him and reading the menu with amusement on his features. “What?”

“Nothing,” the guy says, glancing towards Harry before immediately looking away and having to smother a laugh in his palm. Harley takes a moment to examine this guy, too - sticking out just as much as Harry is with his beige skinny jeans (kind of like khaki’s, but nothing like them, at the same time) and a dark grey hoodie, looking far too thick for the sunny day outside. His hair is swooped across his forehead in wisps of curls, brown eyes glimmering. “Nothing,” he says again, more insistent, though it doesn’t sound convincing as he giggles more.

Harry rolls his eyes, turning back to Harley with a grimace, though his eyes shine in a way that makes it obvious that he isn’t actually annoyed. “Don’t mind him,” he says, gaze flickering down to where Harley is still clasping his hand. Harley pulls back as soon as he notices, yanks his hand away a little too fast. It makes Harry’s nose crinkle, for a second, and then smooth. “That’s Peter.”

Giggles waves a hand vaguely in Harley’s direction, then looks away. Harley isn’t sure what to make of that. “What’s he laughing at?”

“Nothing important,” Harry assures with a shrug. “You’re from here, I’m guessing?” Then, with his newly freed hand, he gestures towards Harley’s clothes, the smudge of dirt on his cheek, the slight sunburn on the bridge of his nose and the freckles dotting his skin. “I don’t mean to assume, you just look a lot like a local.”

“Well, I’d bet I do, since you definitely don’t,” Harley muses, brow quirking, resting a hip on the edge of the counter and crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t mean to assume either, but neither of you are from ‘round here, huh?”

Harry’s smile widens while Peter flips a fork round and round between his nimble looking fingers. If Harley looks closer, he thinks he can see those fingers shaking, yet it doesn’t seem to hinder Peter’s ability to spin the fork with a flawless sort of ease. It makes him intrigued. Confused, too. A bit unsure. He doesn’t get the chance to voice any of it, though.

Julianna, the manager that’s working today, brings Harley his mama’s paycheck, wrapped up in a neat white envelope with Keener scrawled across the front in scratchy script. Harley tips his head in parting when he leaves, and he catches a glimpse of Peter leaning towards Harry with something forming through a whisper of his lips, so close that he brushes against Harry’s ear as he speaks.

He thinks of them the rest of the day. He isn’t quite sure why, but he does.

(Maybe it was the hand in his, or the way Peter couldn’t stop giggling under his breath like there was a joke that no one else knew but him. Maybe the curiosity that Harley felt bubbling in his chest had, for even just a fraction of a moment, filled that cavern the slightest bit.)

“You seem distracted, honeybun,” Margaret Keener says over dinner that night, swooping blonde bangs out of her eyes as she glances towards her eldest child, her eighteen year old son with his shoulders hunched down on himself as he uses his fork to push his food around his plate. Maggie keeps her eyes on Harley, but turns her head to address Belle as she says, “Doesn’t he look distracted, Tinker Bell? Looks a little lost in his head, don’t he?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Annabelle responds, nodding her head politely before shoveling a bite of broccoli salad into her mouth. She speaks around her food, using her own fork to gesture towards her brother, and tells their mama, “Candy Jones was tellin’ me that her daddy saw Harley talkin’ to those city boys stayin’ at the inn.”

Harley shoots his sister a sharp glare while a flicker of understanding sparks in their mama’s eyes. “I see,” she drawls, setting her fork down to prop her chin in her hand, resting in the curve of her palm as she smiles at her son.

“It’s nothin’, Mama,” he grumbles, shrinking in his seat under her knowing stare.

Sounding amused, Maggie says, “Doesn’t sound like nothin’, honeybun. If Annabelle can tell me about her crushes, then you can tell me about yours.”

Instantly, Harley is looking at his sister in bewilderment. “You got crushes?”

Annabelle shovels more food in her mouth. “Maybe,” she says around it all, brows raising in a way that challenges him to say something about it.

“But you’re a baby,” Harley says.

“I’m almost ten,” Belle corrects. “Mama said it was okay, Harls. Right, Mama?”

Maggie nods. “Yes I did,” she says, though her eyes are glued to her son. “’Cause there ain’t nothin’ wrong with having crushes. It’s a natural part of life. So, Harley, why don’t you tell me about these city boys?”

“There’s nothin’ to tell,” Harley insists, looking at his mama with wide eyes. “Honest, Mama. I talked to ‘em for a few minutes while I was waitin’ for Julianna to bring me your check, but nothin’ happened. We just talked. I don’t even know how y’all know that they’re from a city.”

Belle lets out a huff. “Word spreads fast in this town, Harley,” she tells him. “You’d know that if you had any friends that you could talk to.”

“Annabelle Ray Keener, you watch yourself,” Maggie scolds, turning her eyes to her daughter with lowered brows. Belle ducks her head, looks away with red creeping up the back of her neck. “You say sorry to your brother. That was uncalled for, little miss. We don’t talk to each other that way, you hear me?”

Belle sighs. “Sorry, Harls,” she murmurs.

Harley’s head is bowed, ends of his lips tugged down in a frown. “S’alright,” he mutters in response, glancing up at Maggie through his lashes and sounding like nothing but a boy rather than the fresh adult that he is. “I ain’t got nothin’ else to say, Mama. We just talked for a few minutes. They seemed weird, but nice.”

“If you say so, baby,” Maggie softly replies, smile gentle and kind.

He doesn’t say much else for the rest of dinner.

Only a few days later, as Harley is strolling down the streets leading from his house to the mechanic shop that he works at part time during the summers, he sees them again. It’s a particularly hot day, and the weight of life is particularly heavy, and he sees them in the only park resting near the center of Rose Hill, small and meek but all that the town really needs. Peter is siting on one of the swings on the old rickety swing set that Harley has personally had to fix dozens of times since learning how to at the age of eleven, and Harry is pushing him, the two of them looking bright and happy under the sunlight. Laughter chimes in the air when Peter says something that has Harry doubling over, and the smug sort of grin that grows on Peter’s face says that he was hoping for that reaction.

Harley stands there for a few short moments, just watches in silent curiosity, and then he walks over without a second thought. Takes his time, doesn’t want to interrupt but can’t stop himself as he approaches, until they spot him, no more than ten feet away, and they quiet quickly, watching as he slows to a stop just a short distance from them. “You’re from the city,” he says - first thing that comes to mind, and the silence makes him itch, so he throws caution to the wind. Adds, as an afterthought, “My sister heard people in town talkin’ ‘bout it. Is that true?”

There’s a short pause, where Peter looks over his shoulder and Harry meets his eyes briefly, and then they’re looking back and Peter is saying, “Yeah, it’s true.”

“Which one?” Harley questions, curious. He makes a point of raking his eyes over their outfits, which still stand out just as much as the ones that they were wearing last time did. “Doesn’t look like anywhere in Tennessee, I assume?”

“Good assumption, cowboy,” Harry grins. “We’re New York, born and raised.”

Harley tilts his head, brows raising. “Cowboy?”

Peter clicks his tongue, tilts back on the swing until he’s practically hanging upside down, hair brushing against the wood chips of the playground, and then he kicks out his legs and uses an odd sort of momentum to swing back up until he’s sitting, grin wide and toothy as he meets Harley’s eyes. “Southern people use nicknames,” he says with a light laugh. “We thought cowboy suited you.”

“It does?” Harley asks, even more confused. “Y’all were talkin’ about me?”

“Y’all,” Harry repeats, an overjoyed and amused sort of look on his face.

Peter cocks his head slightly to the side, brows quirking, just a bit. “Of course we were talking about you,” he says. “Not everyday you meet a cute cowboy, right?”

That makes Harley freeze, heart stuttering over a beat in his chest, and it feels like what he always thought a stupid high school crush should feel like, his lungs weak and his face warm as he looks away, brings up a hand to run his fingers nervously through his hair. “Oh.”

Harry yanks Peter’s ear lobe lightly and snarkily asks, “What happened to subtlety, Parker?”

“What happened to transparency, Osborn?”

Instantly, Harry is shoving Peter’s shoulder, not too harsh but not exactly kindly, either. Peter exaggerates the push and falls out of the swing dramatically, tumbling into the wood chips with a bright laugh. Harry murmurs, “You’re such a dick,” even as he rounds the swing to help pull Peter to his feet, brushing off the dirt from Peter’s shirt and shaking his head with a sigh.

“You chose me,” Peter counters, grinning.

Harry rolls his eyes, but a smile pulls at his lips, like he can’t quite fight it. “Dumbest decision I’ve ever made,” he says, pulling Peter closer to him, until they’re chest to chest. “And I let you talk me into this trip, so that says a lot, Pete.”

Peter huffs. “Play the part of the Negative Nancy,” he says, leaning in until their noses brush. “Act like I don’t know any better. As if I don’t know you better than you know yourself.”

“Cocky,” Harry grins. “Y’know, we could put some of that confidence to work if you—”

And then Peter kisses him.

Harley feels like he’s intruding on a moment that was never meant for him, standing a few feet away, feeling frozen and unsure. Part of him knows that the proper thing to do would be to walk away, to leave the situation before it can get too awkward, but there’s a pull, something in his gut that tugs and insists he stay exactly where he is. Not that he could resist that insistence even if he wanted to, because his feet are rooted to the ground like a tree that’s been growing in place for centuries, an unwavering and unmovable object.

Warmth climbs up his neck, blossoms across his cheeks as he simply watches, unable to do much else, while Harry brings up a hand to cup Peter’s jaw, as Peter rests his hands on Harry’s waist and they mould together, like they’re filling in the spaces of one another. It looks as natural as breathing, the way they lean together, the way they pull away in sync, how everything seems to be perfectly timed with one another. Harley feels it clog in his throat, that suffocating lonesome feeling he carries around so much—has to clear his throat in order to breathe around it, but the noise just draws two pairs of eyes to him.

There isn’t any surprise or embarrassment, like they had forgotten he was there—rather, there’s an equal sense of content, as if they were happy to see he hadn’t fled. He clears his throat again, looks over Harry’s shoulder to stare unseeingly at the trees behind the swingset. “I didn’t know...” he trails off, tongue tied.

“We don’t usually flaunt it,” Harry offers, hand sliding from Peter’s jaw to his shoulder, keeps it there even as they step apart. One of Peter’s hands continues to clutch the fabric of Harry’s jacket, like he simply refuses to let him go.

Harley swallows roughly. “Usually?”

A smile tugs at Peter’s lips. “Usually.”

“Huh.” Harley looks away, over his shoulder, rubs at the back of his neck. They’re intriguing, is the thing—something about them is pulling him in, making it impossible to walk away. He can’t place his finger on it. “Um, I... I heard—you said trip? That’s why y’all are here? On a trip?”

“A getaway,” Harry offers, tilting his head back and forth, nose crinkled. “Of sorts. I’m emancipated and told Pete that I was thinking about spending a few weeks away from the city, just to take a break before we start our first year at college. He thought of a road trip, and we just... we just started driving. No destination in mind, you know? Just enough shit to last a couple weeks and enough money to keep the tank full, and then we ended up here.”

Harley looks back at them suddenly, because that... he has always wanted to do that. To leave, if just for a little bit, and take a break from how empty and lonely he feels in Rose Hill. He’s always wanted to drive to the nearest city, drive out of the state, explore. But it costs so much, it takes so much time, and his mama... his sister... leaving them, even temporarily—

That’s why he stays. For them. Always.

It takes a moment for him to string together a response, struggling to remember the conversation, what he wanted to say. Eventually, he manages to ask, “Why here?”

Peter rakes his eyes over Harley, the farthest thing from subtle. “Seems interesting,” he says.

“Why not?” Harry asks, his grin wide, toothy.

Harley smiles back—slow, careful, but he does.

There’s an old backpack thrown over his shoulders, dusty and dingy from sitting in the hall closet for so long, but it’s stocked up with snacks, jams and jellies and crackers and a couple jars of his mama’s homemade lemonade, lids screwed up tight.

He tells himself he grabbed so much food because he knows he’s gonna spend the whole day at the pond near the edge of Mr. Samson’s property, the one that Harley helps maintain during the winter months that he’s been given permission to go swimming in whenever he wants. He tells himself that he goes to town first to grab a loaf of bread because he has the feeling he’ll be craving jam sandwiches later, too. Tells himself all these lies until he finally comes across them, sitting besides the road with ice cream cones in hand, chatting to themselves under the warm sun.

As soon as Harley sees them, he freezes, doubt creeping into his mind. None of this was for him, he knows—he packed so much and came up with excuses to wander around town in the hopes of seeing them, of inviting them, but now that they’re in front of his eyes, nerves start to crawl up his throat and lock his jaw shut. He tightens his fingers around one of the backpack straps, knuckles turning white.

Harry happens to see him while glancing around, and then he grins, featuring lighting up as if he was hoping to see Harley just as much as Harley was hoping to run into them. As soon as Harry’s posture changes, Peter spins around, scans their surroundings until he finds Harley, too, and then it isn’t a matter of Harley approaching them—rather, the two of them scramble to their feet and make their way towards him, instead. The hands that aren’t holding their ice cream cones are twisted together between them, swinging lightly.

“There’s—” Harley falters, scrapes his teeth over his lower lip and looks around anxiously. “I just... there are a lotta not-so-friendly people here. People that... frown on—on gay people, y’know? I dunno—I just... if you care, I, um—”

The sun bounces off of Harry’s emerald eyes on a way that might have been menacing, if it weren’t paired with the small smile gracing his lips. “People can think what they want,” he says with the wave of his hand. “We don’t care.”

Harley shifts his weight from one foot to the other, keeps glancing around nervously. “I don’t think you understand. They’ll get violent, if they see—if they see y’all holding hands. They’re ruthless. You could get really hurt.”

There’s something sharp and understanding in Peter’s features. “Have they hurt you?”

“I’m not—” Harley stops, bites back the instinctive denial that tries to claw it’s way out from the back of his throat. It’s been years since he told his mama and his sister, since he spit bloody globs of saliva onto the contrete and cried because the bullies weren’t just ruthless, they were right, they knew, somehow, what he refused to admit for so long. It’s why he hides it now, from everyone other than Mama and Belle. He never knows if they’ll hurt him or not. But there’s a genuine knowing reflected in both Harry and Peter’s eyes, like they could see his pain, like they’ve felt it. He doesn’t feel the need to lie to them.

That fact terrifies him endlessly.

He clenches his jaw, juts his chin up in a choppy sort of nod. “They used to,” he says. “Before I learned how’ta fight back. Still spout shit ‘bout me all god damn day, but words don’t matter. I know better ‘en to listen to ‘em. But y’all... you’re city boys, right? The guys in town, they’ll think you’re weak. They’ll start shit, and they always finish whatever shit they start.”

“I can take ‘em,” Peter assures.

Harley pauses. “Um...”

“He looks scrawny,” Harry says, “but he’s right. If anyone bugs us, he’ll win.”

Harley wants to protest that, mostly because Peter is at least three inches shorter than him and looks like he’d struggle to do a push up underneath the sweatshirts he keeps on wearing, but there’s so much confidence in both if their voices that Harley feels like it’d be stupid to disagree. Instead, he adjusts his backpack and wets his lower lip, battling internally for a moment before blurting out, “Do y’all wanna go swimming with me?”

There’s a short pause, before Harry shares a smile with Peter. “Come again, cowboy?”

Harley flushes, just a bit, and stares down at the toes of his shoes with narrowed eyes. “There’s a pond,” he says, tone almost defensive, already expecting this to go wrong somehow. “It’s a little bit out of town, but it’s nice, kept clean and looked after, y’know? And it’s never busy like the lake out past the school. I was gonna go, and it was brought to my attention that I don’t have any friends and I don’t wanna go alone, and I—I thought—”

“We’ll go,” Peter says. “Right now?”

Harley shifts the weight of his backpack again, glances up in surprise, but knows better than to question a miracle. “If y’all aren’t busy.”

Peter looks at Harry. “Are we busy?”

“Not at all,” Harry answers with a grin.

It takes a quick stop at the motel for them to change into something they can swim in and multiple stammered out reassurances that there’s plenty of food and drinks in his bag for them to share, but they eventually amble over to the pond on foot, Peter and Harry scanning over the place in appreciation while Harley sets down his backpack and starts to unload it all.

“Christ,” Harry says with a laugh when he sees just how much there is. “Were you planning on having a party or something? That’s a lot.”

Harley shakes his head, feels his face burn, just the slightest bit. “Nah, jus’ wanted to make sure there was plenty to last all day.” Then, holding out the loaf of bread, Harley asks, “Sandwich? I got blackberry jam, and raspberry, and—and some apple butter, and there’s—peanut butter and almond butter, so if either of y’all’re allergic to peanuts, I—”

Peter reaches over, settles nimble fingers around Harley’s wrist and smiles. “You packed all this food for us, didn’t you?”

“I...” Harley has to swallow the lump that forms suddenly in his throat. “I just wanted to make sure that there were plenty of options.”

“You’re so sweet,” Peter coos, bringing Harley’s hand down to rest against his chest, palm settled over his beating heart. Harley feels his own heart start to march over the contact, features burning with a bright blush that must look even more sharp under the summer sun.

Harley settles in that for a long moment, breathes in slowly, glances through his lashes to see the way Harry is watching them with intrigue and interest in his eyes. Not knowing what else to do, Harley just clears his throat and croaks out, “Y’all wanna go swimmin’ now?”

With a playful grin and something sharp shining in his eyes, Harry says, “Sure, cowboy,” and reaches down to pull his shirt off.

Harley should have thought this through.

He should have—Christ, does he feel dumber than all hell right now, looking like those idiot pre-teens that burn scarlet at the pool parties in all those stupid movies, the blush reaching the tips of his ears in seconds as he immediately turns his eyes upward to stare at the clouds, almost holding his breath until he realizes that’ll just make his face even redder than it already is. How had the fact that swimming would likely entail a lot of bare skin not crossed his mind? He could have thought of anything else, like going to a movie, or—or roller skating, at the rink a couple towns over, or—

Anything other than this, because it’s a lot harder to act like he isn’t a (mostly) closeted gay dumbass when the most attractive boys he has ever seen are standing five feet away from him, shirtless and grinning like sharks, powerful and hungry and knowing the power they hold.

At least, that’s what it feels like when one of Harry’s hands wraps ‘round Peter’s wrist while Peter’s other hand taps a knuckle lightly against Harley’s chin, a gentle gesture that encourages Harley to lower his gaze—which he does, after a few moments, having to remind himself to breathe normally as he brings his eyes down to glance between swirling chocolate’s and dazzling green’s.

“You can look,” Peter tells him, head tilted, corners of his eyes crinkled with a lovable, boyish sort of grin. “We don’t mind.”

Harley’s mouth feels dry.

Before Harley can try to string together an attempt at a response, Harry cuts in, sounds matter of fact and damn near professional when he informs Harley, “And you can like what you see. It’s okay. We like what we see, too.”

“That’s...” Harley trails off, looks away and looks back because there’s a gravitational pull that he just can’t seem to fight. “That’s... allowed?”

With his nose crinkling up, Harry laughs. “Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be?”

Harley wets his lower lip. “‘Cause y’all’re... you’re together, yeah? And on a trip, gonna be leavin’ soon, I bet, and I’m—I’m the idiot from the close minded Southern town. And you don’t... y’all don’t know me. I don’t know you, either, really, jus’ that I—I, um—uh—”

It’s Peter that steps forward, head tilting to the side, just slightly. Almost puppy like, if it weren’t for the sharpness in his eyes. The ends of his lips pull back, until he’s sporting a soft and gentle sort of smile, but something about it feels damaged, too, in a way that Harley can’t quite put a finger on. “Give yourself some credit, cowboy,” he says. “Harry thinks you’re hot and I can’t get enough of your accent, and that’s just what we thought after three minutes of talking at that diner, alright? Sure, we don’t know you, and, fuck, you definitely don’t know shit about us, but there’s something, right?”

The thing is, Harley isn’t an articulate guy. His brain is capable of endless things, he’s smarter than anyone will ever be able to give him credit for, sure, but when he’s nervous, in a situation that’s unfamiliar and hard to maneuver, his instinct is to duck his head and change the subject. Which is why he freezes completely, even though he knows this is an opening, even though Peter and Harry just fully and openly admitted to being attracted to him, at least on a surface level, and Harley—he’s never had anyone interested in him before. None of the girls at school ever swooned over him, none of the boys tried to woo him with flowers and cheesy dates. He was just the Keener boy, with the blond waves that sometimes dry in ringlets that hang in his eyes when it rains, the sloped nose that’s just a bit crooked from breaking it a few too many times over the years (clumsy, at times; unlucky run ins with bullies, for the most part), the jean jacket that almost always has on, pulled over plain t-shirts in the summer, thick flannels in the winter, dark blue jeans that are old and ripped at the knees, but he can’t bother to replace them. He’s a graduate barely two months out of high school and his future’s already set, laid out and chosen for him.

Stay in Rose Hill. Die in Rose Hill. Maybe grow old, somewhere in between. Hopefully content, at peace, but he ain’t bettin’ money on that. Probably work at the mechanic shop full time once it becomes clear that he’ll never afford to go to college and he won’t get anywhere without a degree. Besides, Mama says that Rose Hill is home, and he says that home is wherever Mama and Belle are, so there’s no real harm in just going with the flow of things.

But it feels like being offered a taste of forbidden fruit (and, Christ, would his Catholic grandma turn over in her grave if she heard him using such a phrase, daring to reference the holy text in his sin) when gentle fingers brush across his cheek, bringing him back to reality as he sucks in a sharp breath and finds green eyes looking into his, brown ones scanning over his features just as closely, as intently.

Harry smiles, all lopsided. “Wanna swim?”

It’s an offer, an ability to ease the nervous (excited?) churning in his stomach. Harley swallows roughly, waits until his tongue no longer feels tangled up and knotted in his mouth, before saying, “Y-Yeah. Okay.”

(They’re swimming ‘round the pond like little kids until sunset, and Harley walks them back to the motel, ‘cause it’s the nice thing to do, and by the time he gets home, his hair still hanging in his eyes in damp ringlets that Harry had called cute while Peter brushed gentle fingers through them with a grin, there’s a swelling feeling of contentment in his chest.

For a moment, it makes the pressure, weight, heaviness, and that chasm of emptiness in the center of it all that so often overwhelms him, pains him so much, seem like nothing.)

They go to the movies the next day, and rollerskating a couple days after that, just because Harley keeps wandering around town while his Mama is at work and Belle is with her friends, going to the lake and having sleepovers because it’s summer and she’s nine and, in a place like Rose Hill, kids start to wander off on their own around the place as soon as they hit first grade. Harley’s got the occasional part time shift at the mechanics, sure, but it’s only ‘bout fifteen hours a week if he’s lucky—five hour shifts, up to three days a week, and with his Mama working so much and Belle having the kind of social life that Harley has never been capable of grasping himself, it’s safe to say there isn’t much else to do to fill up his summer days. Usually, this leaves him terribly lonely, even more so than usual, spending most of his summers in the garage with things to tinker with and a haze over his every thought.

This year, though.

It’s that gravitational pull that Harley thought of before, an otherworldly source guiding him towards these city boys like it’s where he’s supposed to be. He’s always been in the belief that there isn’t a place for him, that he’s just a floater drifting his way among those who really belong, and these two... Harry and Peter are dating—have been for over two years, now, told Harley that they started dating when they were sixteen—and with them is, logically, the last place Harley should feel the most welcome. But, it’s like there’s a space with them, somewhere for him to nestle in, and it feels like it’s purely his own. It feels like his.

Peter is the first to kiss him.

It’s after a day where he wakes up feeling heavier than usual, brain hazed just a bit, chest caving in on that void of emptiness at the center of it all. Mama has a graveyard shift tonight so she passes him in the hall when he shuffles towards the bathroom, presses a kiss to his forehead like he’s a little kid and then makes her way to her room to sleep until it’s time for her to get ready for work, which means that Belle—and her plans to go a few towns over, to go to the sorry excuse for a mall that’s over there, with a couple of her friends—becomes his responsibility to drive around. Which is something he agreed to over dinner last night, but maybe he would have fibbed a bit and said he had his own shift at work if he knew he would wake up feeling like this.

But he takes them, Belle and her two best friends, and spends hours walking ‘round the mall, making sure they’re safe and don’t get lost, holding their bags and offering to pay for all their food when they get hungry at about lunch time, just ‘cause that’s how he was raised to be. By the time he finally parks in the driveway again, all of them having been dropped off at one of the the other girls’ house for a sleepover, his arms are tired, his limbs feel like lead, everything is unclear and slow in his grogginess. He sits behind the wheel for a long time, just trying to breathe like a normal human being, before making his way inside, being greeted bu lights off and silence—Mama already left for work, then. He’s alone.

He’s lonely.

This isn’t anything new—he’s been lonely his whole life, felt it carved into the cavity of his chest like a brand—but it really resonates as he stands there in the entryway, the only light in the room being the slowly setting sun as it shines through the window, illuminates the room with a golden sort of glow. His turns his head so that it’s angled down, curls falling in front of his eyes like a curtain, but even when blocking his vision he can feel it, can hear the distinct lack of sound like a gun shot, save for the distant sound of the washer spinning a load of Mama’s comfy clothes that echoes within his school like an eerie reminder of the fact that no one else is there, and it shouldn’t matter, he’s felt this before and been just fine, but he’s been getting all these little tastes and hints of feeling like he actually belongs somewhere when he’s with Harry and Peter, and knowing what a fraction of companionship feels like...

Harley doesn’t have a cell phone, ‘cause there ain’t no signal in Rose Hill unless you’re on the main road, but that main road is where the diner is, where the bars are, and, of course, the motel. And he happens to have the numbers of two city boys staying at that motel scribbled on a napkin from the rollerskating rink that’s sitting on his nightstand, only just upstairs.

There’s barely a minute of thought before he starts moving towards the staircase, grabbing the house phone along the way, and, a mere fifteen minutes later, he isn’t alone anymore.

He gives them a quick tour of the house after letting them in, mostly because he didn’t actually think of something to do, had only been aching with the need to have someone there, and now he’s basking in the warmth of their presence while trying to figure out something to do in order to not give himself away, but Harry seems a bit more softspoken, Peter keeps brushing fingers against Harley’s shoulder’s, the small of his back, and—

(“I just...” Harley had said over the phone, completely unaware of the empty tone to his words, unable to see the way that the couple had looked at one another, concern and worry and troubled fondness in their eyes. “I’m not busy,” is what Harley had settled on saying, not a lie, but certaintly not the truth. “Are you?”

Peter had been sporting pinched brows and a slight frown. Harry had said, “Never too busy for you, cowboy. What’s the plan?”)

And they end up outside, because Harley takes them out on the backporch for a quick view of the yard and the garden that the Keener’s split responsibility to tend to, and Peter had seen the little campfire set up and insisted they get the stuff for s’mores and have a bonfire. There’s such a simplistic sort of innocent excitement that lights up his features, and it makes Harley wonder— “Have y’all had a campfire b’fore?”

Harry shakes his head. “Always wanted to,” he says. “Pete’s Uncle was actually gonna take us both camping for Pete’s fifteenth birthday, but... um—it didn’t work out, I guess.”

“He passed away,” Peter supplies, when Harley’s brows quirk just slightly, curious but unsure if he should ask. Even Harry looks mildly surprised by the admission, giving Peter a wide eyed look, to which Peter just shrugs and says, “What? I can tell when not to trust someone.” Then, back to Harley, he explains, “My parents died when I was four, so I was raised by my Aunt May and Uncle Ben, but Ben got shot when I was fourteen. I tried to slow the bleeding enough to keep him alive until the ambulance got there, but—yeah. Wasn’t able to, I guess.”

Everything else from before—the heaviness, the loneliness, the ache—it all goes away in an instant, morphing into a shocked sense of dread as he looks into the eyes of the guy he literally called giggles in his head when they met. His tongue is tangled. He has to untangle it slowly before he can ask, “You were there?”

Peter shrugs again, but he looks away.

“Christ, Darlin’,” Harley chokes out, shaking his head. “Yeah, we can have s’mores. We can—so many s’mores, as many as ya’want. Jesus.”

“Shit cards,” Peter says. “They happen.” Then, perking up like they weren’t just talking about him witnessing his uncle’s murder, he looks back to Harley and asks, “Do you maybe have some of those jumbo marshmellows?”

Harry rolls his eyes and groans, and, just like that, it’s like the heavy topic never came up. Not in a let’s just ignore that and let it fester uncomfortably below the surface sort of way, but in a that’s all that needs to be said for now so let’s just move on kind of way instead. It feels natural and comforting rather than cold and dismissive, and it makes that chasm within Harley’s chest feel a little less empty.

It’s after the sun has set, when there’s a fire that’s glowing across them and softening their features in the gentle, flickering light. Harley is sat in the middle because they always seem to want him there, the corner of his mouth sticky from melted marshmellow and the taste of chocolate on his tongue, feeling warm and full. Harry’s leaning into Harley, just a bit, but Peter is sitting a couple inches away, features a bit pinched with a thoughtful sort of expression.

Before Harley can voice his curiosity, Peter glances over at them, practically melts at the sight of Harry settling his head to rest on Harley’s shoulder, and slowly says, “Har...?”

“Mm?” Harry responds, eyes fluttering shut.

“I think—I mean, I wanna—do you think—?”

Harry huffs, one eyes squinting over to look at Peter. “Just do it, Parker. Don’t be a pussy.”

Harley barely has time to murmur a confused little, “Um,” before Peter’s brushing gentle fingertips beneath his chin and turning his head and Harley sees beautiful brown eyes getting closer and closer and—a few freckles, dotting along the bridge of Peter’s nose.

And then they’re kissing.

It’s a basic kind of kiss—lips pressed to lips in what often is only a meaningless point of skin on skin, but Harley’s heart races in his chest as soon as he realizes what’s happening, a tingle running down his spine and—warmth, so much warmth that envelopes him in somethiny soft and cozy and his, it’s his in a way that nothing ever has been, and he pushes in, presses into Peter with a hitch in his breath and kisses back like his life fucking counts on it, ‘cause it does.

Christ Almighty, it does.

(Harry kisses him next, while Harley is still dazed and blinking away the stars in his eyes, but Harry is half asleep and doesn’t do much more than hum against his lips before slumping back down, head on Harley’s shoulder, eyelashes brushing against his cheeks, and it’s so much different yet entirely just the same.)

He didn’t invite them to stay the night.

He also didn’t tell them to leave.

When Harley blinks awake, rising with the sun like he was raised to do, there’s hair ticking his nose and a weight pressed up against his side. It takes a moment for him to clear his eyes of grogginess and make them really focus, but when he does, he finds Harry’s head resting on his chest, curled up against him, snoring softly.

Peter is separate from them, curled up on himself on the far corner of Harley’s bed, wide awake and shivering lightly. Harley feels choked up with the moment and everything that it is, everything that it can be, but the worry clouds over that when he hears Peter’s teeth chatter.

“Cold, Darlin’?”

Instantly, Peter’s head snaps up, wide eyed and sheepish. “Um—I, uh—I’m good, I’m—”

Harley lifts the arm that Harry doesn’t have pinned beneath him, shifts the blanket that they must have fallen asleep on top of and somehow manages to maneuver it from underneath them to over them without moving too much, then keeps a corner held up as he looks to Peter. “C’mon,” he coaxes. “I’ve heard I’m like a heater. C’mere, s’alright.”

Peter hesitates, but then he’s moving, crawling under the blankets and curling into Harley with a shaky sort of sigh. “Thanks,” he murmurs.

“Dunno how you’re so cold,” Harley mutters back, because you’re welcome feels a bit too obvious. “Summertime in Rose Hill can be brutal. Surprised we’re not all dyin’ of heat.”

“M’not actually cold,” Peter tells him. “Just had a nightmare. Almost drowned, once, and I always feel cold after I dream about it.”

Christ, Harley thinks—remembers so suddenly that he doesn’t really know these guys, feels it shock him like a taser. He doesn’t particularly understand why Peter is telling him this, or why he told Harley about his parents and his uncle last night—remembers the shock on even Harry’s face when he had—but it doesn’y feel scary or overwhelming. Just a bit hard to process, feally. Peter doesn’t really act the way Harley suspects someone would after that.

But Harry also doesn’t act like he’s all that traumatized, either, yet Harley can feel the exact moment he goes tense in the shoulders and his breathing takes a hitch. Peter lets out a hum, all too knowing and sad, and reaches out a hand to comb through Harry’s hair. “There he goes,” Peter practically whispers. “Almost had a full night’s rest, too. That would’ve been a god damn miracle, but he needs it, eventually.”

“What happened to you two?” Harley founds himself asking—not maliciously, not demanding, but curious and... upset, maybe, but not at them, of course, rather at the fact that he’s only know these two for a handful of weeks—a month, almost, which is just an odd thought to linger on—and if anyone deserves to never face a bad day in their life, it’s them.

Peter puffs out a sigh as Harry really starts to struggle, brows furrowed, features pinched. “I think we’ll tell you,” he says softly. “One day.”

Harry lets out a pitiful sort of cry in his sleep, and then that’s all that matters, Peter coaxing his partner awake while Harley tries to offer a soothing presence and coo calming words.

Even now, it doesn’t feel like Harley’s an intruder. It feels like he was always supposed to be right here with them, good mornings or bad.

Mama comes home from work with grizzy hair that’s sticking up at random spots and finds three eighteen year old boys curled up together on the sofa with a morning children’s cartoon playing on the screen. Despite the shock and the exhaustion etched deep into her features, she only blink once in surprise before smiling wide at them. “These’re the city boys, I’m guessin’?” she asks, plopping her purse down on the coffee table as she looks them over.

“Yes, ma’am,” Peter says before Harley can do much more than nod. “I’m Peter Parker. This is Harry Os—um. Harry Lyman. It’s nice to meet you, Miss Keener. You have a lovely home.”

“Honey, you can just call me Maggie,” his Mama assures. She flickers her eyes over to Harry, who is so obviously trying to offer a smile and focus on the conversation but is still so rumpled from his rude awakening, borrowed sweatpants and Peter’s shirt askew, eyes a bit glazed over and features a little sad. Still, his Mama gives Harry a smile. “Both of you.”

Harry looks a bit unsure and grateful by that, while Peter offers a quiet, “Okay, Miss Maggie.”

Mama chuckles, looks to Harley with a soft amusement in her eyes. “Honeybun, I think you must’ve found the only polite city boys around,” she says. “You boys have any breakfast yet?”

Harley feels scolded even before he gives an answer, looks down at his lap sheepishly before telling her, “No, Mama, we haven’t eaten yet.”

“Harley James Keener,” Maggie says—not just Mama, not with that tone of voice, sharp and sure but also exasperated and loving. “I know I raised you knowin’ how we treat our guests. C’mon, up you get, we’re cookin’ up some food before anyone starves into an early grave.”

It looks like Peter is about to protest, but he looks at Harry and bites his tongue, instead offering a grateful smile when Harley squeezes his hand lightly before getting up with a simple little, “Yes, ma’am,” and heading to the kitchen.

He’s flipping over the first of the pancakes when his Mama lets out a soft sort of sigh, glancing up from where she’s mixing together the egg wash for the french toast. Harley knows better than to voicea question just yet, waits patient and proper until she’s ready to speak up, though the last thing he expects her to say is a resigned, “You’re gonna be leavin’, huh?”

The spaltula damn near slips from his fingers in his haste to look at he. “Wh—Mama, what?”

“You were never a Rose Hill kinda boy,” she says, smile soft and sad as she looks back down at the bowl she’s mixing. “I knew it when you were just a kid, Harls. Born and raised don’t mean that it’s home, honeybun, and a small town was never gonna be your place. Too much smart in that brain of yours to stay here.”

“Mama...” Harley trails off, only looks away in order to avoid burning the pancake. “I’d never leave you and Belle here. You gotta know that.”

Maggie clicks her tongue and shakes her head, action sharp as her tone. “Harley Keener, there ain’t no way in hell that I’d let you waste your potential just to stay here with us. Rose Hill’s where I wanna be, where I fit—but it isn’t that for you and you shouldn’t make it be. Hard to tell with Tinker Bell, she could go either way, but you? Honey, the world ain’t ready for you, and you’ve been hidin’ yourself here and not usin’ up all that potential you’ve got for too long. You’re gonna leave, honeybun. Stayin’ here was never supposed to be your future.”

Harley wants to fight tooth and nail against this, but the more she speaks, the more her words start to settle over him like a blanket. He’s always wanted to leave, and he’s always felt awfully selfish for wanting it, but the way she says it... there’s not argument. He doesn’t belong here. Up until recently, he just assumed he wouldn’t belong anywhere at all.

“Besides,” Maggie adds, glancing at her son with a curl to her lips. “You’ve got two city boys sittin’ in the other room waitin’ for you.”

“I—I don’t know ‘em all that well,” Harley says.

Maggie shakes her head. “I didn’t know your Daddy all that well when I fell in love with ‘im. Of course, your Daddy changed—wasn’t the man I loved by the time he left us, but that’s not the point. Love ain’t knowin’ someone all the way, honeybun. It’s learnin’ as you go and lovin’ all those bits and pieces that you learn.”

Harley’s face is burning. “I don’t love ‘em, Ma.”

“Not yet,” Maggie says. “But you will.”

Two and a half weeks later, as June turns to July, Harley finds himself packing his things.

“I’ve got an apartment,” Harry says, looking far too put together to be the same guy who was damn near silent in the aftershocks of his nightmare (and the three other nightmare’s Harley has seen since). “If you think you wanna move to the city, you can just stay with me until you either find your footing or decide to come back here. Pete basically lives there, too, with how much he’s stayed over since I got emancipated and moved into their at sixteen.”

Harley looks up from the shirt he’s folding, a single brow arching. “Sixteen?” he questions. “Same year y’all started datin’, you mean?”

The ends up Harry’s lips pull up, amused beyond belief. Peter’s snorin’ on Harley’s bed, tired (couldn’t sleep super well the night befors, Harley was told) and completely unaware of the way that Harry’s eyes glimmer. “Yeah,” he says, shrugging. “Probably got away with shit we shouldn’t have in there, but May was working and doing school to get promoted at the hospital, so there weren’t any adults giving us the you’re too young talk, you know?”

“Your dad...” Harley doesn’t keep talking, mostly because he’s only gotten a slight scratch against the surface with that topic, so he doesn’t want to push. Still, Harry nods.

“He wouldn’t have done much talking,” is all that Harry offers. “That’s why I was emancipated. I’ll tell you about it, probably, when Pete is up to sharing that shit.”

Harley glances at Peter, sleeping soundly still. “Peter had problems with your dad, too?”

Harry winces. “To put it lightly, yeah.”

“Any chance I can find this guy and beat his ass?” Harley questions—mostly for the way that Harry chuckles fondly, but it’s a semi-legitimate question, as well. He doesn’t take well to assholes who treat kids like shit, even more so when it’s his—when—when it’s Harry and Pete.

“He’s not in our lives anymore,” Harry says, stalks forward and brushes a kiss to the corner of Harley’s mouth. “No worries, cowboy. ‘Sides, Pete got a good few hits in, towards the end.”

Christ. “A sight to see, I’m guessin’?”

“Don’t know. I wasn’t there for it.”

Harley shakes his head. “So many stories.”

“So much time to tell them,” Harry counters, a wide grin growing across his face.

From the bed, Peter groans. “Stop bein’ sappy,” he grumbles, words slightly slurred from sleep as he turns his face into the only one of Harley’s pillows that hasn’t been packed yet. “M’sleepin’. Can’t sleep if you’re bein’ all—all fuckin’ gay.”

A light laugh rumbles out from the center of Harley’s chest, while Harry just rolls his eyes and walks over to the bed, plopping down next to Peter with a drawn out sigh. “Dramatic asshole,” Harry grouches, even as he pulls Peter into his side and curls an arm around him, features going soft when Peter doesn’t hesitate to lean against him with a happy hum. “We’re driving back to New York in, like, five hours, Pete. You can’t just wait and sleep in the car?”

Peter cracks an eye open, looking absolutwly scandalized. “And miss out on showing our favorite cowboy all our car games?”

“I already know car games,” Harley says.

“Not ours,” Peter says. “Not yet.”

Not yet. Like his Mama said.

Harley smiles. He likes the silent, unspoken yet powerful promise that comes with not yet.

He likes it a whole lot.

#shadedrose01 #parkner #parksborn #ph2 #peter harley harry #harry harley peter #harry peter harley #harley peter harry #harley harry peter #peter harry harley #parksborner #my writing #HOW did this get so long omg #harley keener x harry osborn

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