#red and liz are beautiful together: that is a fact

[aurorawest]

Reading update!

So as you'll see below I've read a lot of books since the last time I did one of these. I'm not going to write a little blurb for all of them, only the ones I feel strongly about. But I'm going to start including my ratings.

Arctic Sun by Annabeth Albert. 4.25/5 stars

Where We Left Off by Roan Parrish. 5/5 stars

Peter Cabot Gets Lost by Cat Sebastian. 5/5 stars

This book was just. So lovely. Short and fast-paced, but I loved Peter and Caleb so much. I love the time period too. I know this is me being toxic and problematic and showing my internalized homophobia or whatever but I actually really like books set in places and time periods where homophobia is a real and present danger. I think it's because I'm totally a Love Conquers All romantic, so the fact that people dgaf and make a go of being together anyway scratches that itch.

Anyway, good book. I picked up the other two in the series but haven't read them yet.

Let's Get Back to the Party by Zak Salih. 4/5 stars

Literature. Good but pretty sad.

No Gods For Drowning by Hailey Piper. 3/5 stars

The Sunbearer Trials by Aiden Thomas. DNF

I got 50 pages in before I gave into my hate and DNFed this.

The Lost Future of Pepperharrow by Natasha Pulley. 5/5 stars

I find it genuinely upsetting that Natasha Pulley isn't a household name, because she writes the most beautiful, gutting books that I have maybe ever read. I don't understand how she's able to write what is, on the surface, a completely mundane sentence, and yet there's this roiling sea of heartbreak underneath it.

This is the sequel to The Watchmaker of Filigree Street, easily one of the best books I've ever read, and this one is at least as good.

Natural Enemies by Roan Parrish. 4/5 stars

Us by Sarina Bowen and Elle Kennedy. 3.75/5 stars

Silver in the Wood by Emily Tesh. 5/5 stars

Lovely little novella that read like a fairy tale.

The Prince's Poisoned Vow by Hailey Turner. 4.25/5 stars

At first I despaired of ever learning who all the characters were in this book because the first like, 10 chapters were all from a different POV, but I got a handle on all of them and liked it a lot.

Spectred Isle by KJ Charles. 4.75/5 stars

Un Lun Dun by China Miéville. DNF

This is the book that made me realize I hate whimsical books.

Here the Whole Time by Vitor Martins. 4/5 stars

The Lightning-Struck Heart by TJ Klune. 3/5 stars

I ranted about this one already but Jesus, Klune. This straight up reads like the kind of stuff I wrote when I was like, 14, and I don't mean that as a compliment to my 14 year old self.

Love, Hate & Clickbait by Liz Bowery. 5/5 stars

!!!!! This book was so good!!!! I picked it up way back when it came out but it only surfaced in the TBR pile in March, and it did not let me down. Thom and Clay are SO unlikable, but you start to like them in a way that's practically insidious because you don't see it coming. By the end, I was totally rooting for them and loved them both. And this is a romcom with a truly great villain, too, which definitely isn't standard in romances.

Red Skies Falling by Alex London. 5/5 stars

Second book in a series that revolves around a culture where falconry is hugely important. If you want fantasy that doesn't take place in fantasy England, check this series out. It has an A+ sibling relationship, a lovely romance, and high stakes. But this one was saaaaad ugh so sad.

Less by Andrew Sean Greer. 3.75/5 stars

I hated this book until about 80% through, and then it subverted all my expectations and I ended up liking it okay. I thought it was just about a pathetic middle aged gay white man (I know I know, that's my type, what's the problem?) feeling sorry for himself, but it was deeper than that. And it had a nice ending.

Invitation to the Blues by Roan Parrish. 4/5 stars

Red, White & Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston. 5/5 stars (reread)

Bought this edition for the bonus chapter from Henry's POV and for @vkelleyart's end pages. Totally worth it. I love this book just as much as I did the first time.

Threshold by Jordan L Hawk. 4.25/5 stars

So this is a series with like, 11 books? I read the first one and was kind of eh on it. Good enough to buy the second, not enough to buy all 11 or whatever. But the second one was substantially better, so now I've acquired like 5 more of them. I continue to be a sucker for late 19th century/early 20th century settings.

Lavender House by Lev AC Rosen. 4.5/5 stars

Is gay noir a thing? Because that's what I'm calling this book. Gay noir. I loved the main character and I'm really excited this is going to be a series (I've already preordered the second one). The only reason I knocked off half a star is because some of the side characters were irritating. And as a mystery, it wasn't great, so I wouldn't read this one if you're looking for a really good mystery. It's definitely more about the character development and the relationships.

Though possibly one reason I didn't think the mystery was that good is because it got spoiled for me on tumblr by someone who imo had a pretty shallow read on the book. Honestly not sure if they actually read it or they just skimmed it.

Something Wild & Wonderful by Anita Kelly. 5/5 stars

AHHH. THIS BOOK!! This book was so good. So I've been making fun of it for a while because if you look at the cover, it looks like a Stucky AU. And you know what, maybe it was, but at least it didn't read that way, lol. It was really lovely and I'll be using it as a comp for the manuscript I finished last week.

The Bedlam Stacks by Natasha Pulley. 5/5 stars

I don't even have anything else to say except that you need to read Natasha Pulley's books. Please. If you're reading this post, go get her books. Buy them, take them out of the library, whatever. Do it.

Work for It by Talia Hibbert. 4.25/5 stars

A Tree of Bones by Gemma Files. 4.5/5 stars

Any Old Diamonds by KJ Charles. 5/5 stars

Something happened in this book that made me close it and stare into the middle distance, then put it aside until I could process.

Anyway you should definitely read it.

Farview by Kim Fielding. 4/5 stars

Whistling in the Dark by Tamara Allen. 4.25/5 stars

Currently reading The Restless Dark by Erica Waters

Which I'm enjoying more than I thought I would!

[lildevilsadvocate]

Knock You Down

(Jack Harlow x Reader) (Angus Cloud x Reader)

Oh this ain’t supposed to happen to me

“Y/N did you hear me?” the panic evident in my managers voice pulls you from your thoughts. What would Jack think? How would he react to the scenes that you’ve attempted to hide from him for the entirety of filming? “I’m listening Liz,” you take a deep breath sitting on the small couch in your trailer, “the premiere is going to be a big publicity filled event, I get it.” you finish rolling your eyes with only one person on your mind. Jack.

“Your chemistry with Angus is going to be needed on the red carpet. Make everyone feel like this is real Y/N.” Liz continues, you zone out once again thinking about how the chemistry is real, but the chemistry and love you have for Jack is greater than anything Angus could give you. “I’ll send a car for you, you have a fitting at 3. Bye.” You zone back into reality with the click of the phone being hung up. You rest your head on the back of the couch hoping to catch a moment of peace. A rough knock to the trailer door causes you to groan before muttering a “come in.” The figure that enters through the doorway is somehow the one person you want to see and want to avoid.

Jack.

“Hi ma, you look beautiful as always.” He says pecking your lips. A smile rises on your face as you see the flowers behind his back. He never fails at making your heart swoon each time you all are together. You leave a lingering kiss on his lips pulling him down on the couch beside you. “Just talk to me Jack, tell me about your day.” You say gently resting your head in his lap. “Well the studio session went well, you were the only thing on my mind though…” his words no longer reach your mind as you fall back into your thoughts. Smiling up at the curly headed boy above you.

I never thought be in love like this.

When I look at you my mind goes on a trip.

Then you came in and knocked me on my face.

Feels like I’m in a race

but I already won first place.

You wonder how you were able to get Americas playboy to commit to you. Was it the fact that you didn’t chase after him like everyone else? Your manager tried so hard to keep him away, your image was much too precious to her, but once she saw how genuine he was with you she fell back. It took the first three months of y’all’s relationship to to truly trust and fall for Jack. There was no NDA’s, no publicity shoots, he kept it lowkey and private but still made it known you had his heart. Girls could throw themselves at Jack and he wouldn’t entertain them anymore. You were the girl who he wanted to entertain. He took his time and now after a year and a half it still felt as if he was chasing you even though he had you. He was yours and you were his. Jack made it clear you had no competition, but right now could you say the same for him?

I never thought I’d fall for you as hard as I did

You got me thinking bout our life our house and kids

Every morning I look at you and smile

Cause boy you came around and you knocked me down

Waking up each morning to Jack was a blessing. Some mornings you’d wake up before him and count the freckles that graced his skin. Other mornings would be you and him indulging in pillow talk about his eight future daughters that he’s tried to convince you to have. Thankfully he no longer wants the house on Oxford Street in London, but wherever you chose is where he would go. You won’t forget the morning when you told him maybe a house in the same neighborhood of his parents back in Louisville. The baby blues you fell in love with we’re brighter than they ever have been as he kissed you with so much passion. He knew you were the one, and he promised to never let you go.

Sometimes love comes around

and it knocks you down

Just get back up

when it knocks you down.

You knew Jack was the one for you, yet after spending so much time with Angus on this movie the lines between acting and real life became blurred. The feelings were there and you’d never act on them out of respect for Jack, but how could you bring this up to him? Your relationship wasn’t public and with this premiere, you knew tabloids were going to have you and Angus on every cover with questions on if you’re together and what not. You weren’t prepared at all.

“What’s going on in that head of yours babe?” Jack pulls you out of your thoughts.

Do you tell him what is about to happen? Do you tell him that you’ve spent so much time with Angus recently that you think you have feelings for him? You truly only want Jack, but if that’s for real; why aren’t your head and heart on the same page? You reach up to kiss him and snuggle into his neck.

“I’m just exhausted baby that’s all,” you say as he curls his arms around you. You can’t ruin this moment. You can’t ruin this relationship. Jack knows how the media works. He should be okay with it, right? What’s going on between you and Angus is just for show, right?

[meetmeatthecoda]

I believe that my friend is pregnant (I mean, she hasn't told me or anyone yet – except, maybe her partner, and even of that I am not sure – but the signs are all there, what with the change in her diet, behavior, that Look™ in her eyes that makes me think about that quote from 101 Dalmatians and it looks like she's starting to show) and I must admit I'm a little at loss for what to do right now (except making sure the food I cook when she's over is healthy for a pregnant woman, you know, just in case...) which makes me rather nervous (especially considering that we meet up today, for the first time since I realized she might very well be pregnant, and I'm trying to force myself to keep cool) and yet strangely reminds me about TBL (even my mum told me jokingly that I must have known something was up with how often I talked about Agnesgate these past few months 😅), so I guess what I'm trying to say is do you, by any chance, have any pregnant!Lizzy headcanons to share (because your headcanons are always a delight to read... not to mention your fics but that's a theme for a whole other ask)? No pressure, of course, but I would appreciate it if you do.

Hello there, anon!! 🤗 Firstly, let me say, what a lovely & considerate friend you are!! I've never had a close pregnant friend or family member, so I don't know how I would feel & behave in that circumstance, but I certainly hope I would be just like you!! I mean, wanting to cook appropriate foods for her??? How sweet 😭😭😭 Secondly... do we have a verdict yet?? 👀😂😁 Forgive me for being nosy, but I'm low-key invested now LOL And THIRDLY - to commemorate the (potential) occasion - OF COURSE I can whip up some pregnant!Lizzie headcanons for you!! It would be my pleasure & I must add that I'm very touched you think so highly of my silly headcanons & even my self-indulgent fics, that really means the world to me 🥺🥺 So, without further ado, here are your made-to-order headcanons (placed under the cut cause I have a feeling I'm gonna get carried away lolol) - I really hope you enjoy them, please feel free to pop back in & update me tee hee, & much, much love to you, of course, my caring friend!! 😍🥰❤️

Red is an attentive partner under everyday circumstances, but when he & Lizzie find out they're expecting a baby, he goes into overdrive. But not in an over-bearing, panicked, or annoying way; quite the opposite, in fact, as he becomes even more understanding, sympathetic, & loving. And one of the ways he feels he can be the most helpful is with food. When Liz's cravings hit her hard, Red prefers to retrieve her sought-after foods himself or - only if it's too far away that he doesn't want to leave her or she asks him not to - then he sends a trusted someone like Dembe or Baz, both of whom he knows will meticulously check the order for everything Liz wants before they make the return journey. Red also tries his best to obtain pregnancy-safe versions of the foods & drinks Liz can't have. He flies in specially-made sushi from Japan with no raw fish, orders her favorite caffeine-free imitation sodas from the internet (with Dembe's help), & buys mocha-flavored candies to quench her coffee-cravings. However, his favorite food-related act of love is cooking for her himself, much preferring to oversee the safe preparation of all the ingredients - carefully steering clear of anything that makes her nauseous - & lovingly putting together a plate for her with hearts drawn on the plate in sauces & gravy bc he's a total sap, who are we kidding

Red's favorite part of Lizzie's pregnancies (bc they FOR SURE have more than one baby together, I will NOT be taking questions at this time) is how her body changes. She is beautiful to him in any & every form & pregnancy is no exception at all. He makes a point to worship her body - growing & stretching & so gracefully accommodating his child - especially when she complains of "not feeling pretty anymore". He provides endless foot rubs, back massages, & jumps at the chance to apply lotion to her itchy, stretched skin. And, of course, he takes the most joy in pleasuring her in bed, trying his best to give her tired, aching body all the relief & joy he can. i'm predictable & i don't care 😏

Lastly, the only thing Red loves more than cooking for Lizzie or worshiping her body... is talking & reading to their unborn baby. From the moment Lizzie feels the first flutter, not a day goes by when Red doesn't press his hands to her tummy & murmur to their child, hoping to earn a wiggle or kick for his troubles. The day Lizzie grabs his hand & presses it to her side, trying not to get her hopes up that he'll finally be able to feel the tiny kick from inside her, only to see his eyes widen in amazement & quickly fill up with tears is a day she'll never forget. From that moment on, Red is touching & kissing her belly at every opportunity, talking to the baby quietly - assuring it how much he loves it & its mother - & ordering nearly every children's book ever published to read to it at night time, often managing to soothe both the baby & Lizzie to sleep. The baby responds to his voice from that very first day, always the most active when Red is close & reading in a low tone & Red keeps a hand on her belly to try & accurately judge which books are the baby's favorites, making Liz roll her eyes fondly & mutter that Red is spoiling their baby before it's even born, while she's not-so-secretly happier than she's ever been, tears always sliding down her cheeks as she watches Red interact so lovingly with their baby.

[roominthecastle]

How do you deal with people thinking Red and Liz together are “disgusting” even from close friends who watch the show? I don’t listen to other social media chatter but I guess when it’s from people you respect that say it, it’s kinda a big fat bummer. I feel it’s a beautiful unrequited romantic love story. That’s all I see.

Opinions like that don’t really register w/ me, anon, no matter where they come from. I’ve always been interested in the odd, the off, the tilted, the dark, the warped, the controversial, and until I stumbled onto this blue hell, I never really had anyone to share those interests with. They were never “validated” by anyone in my family or friend groups, so I learned pretty early on how to have lots of shameless fun independent of others’ opinion (esp when they are emotionally loaded and subjective af like “disgusting”). A difference of opinion doesn’t automatically create a “good” and a “bad” way of looking at something anyway.

I’m not saying it’s fun when someone you love/respect has such a forcefully negative reaction, but you should also love/respect yourself enough to not let that ruin something you cherish and enjoy.

Or as a famous philosopher once said,

[raineydays411]

The best of friends

Peter Parker x Stark! reader

A/n: Hello! So this time the reader is going to be black! If y’all wanna like...request for a reader to be an ethnicity or race you can, I’ll do my best to write for it 💕

Summary: Peter Parker is your best friend. In fact he’s one of your only friends. So it’s needless to say things get a little complicated when you fall in love with him and he’s in love with another girl. 

Warning ⚠️: Oblivious Peter, sad reader, love triangles

This fic was inspired by @cherrytholland and their silence series, YALL need to check it out!

You never had many friends. It’s alway been that way, ever since you remembered. 

Being a Stark meant that you were constantly in danger, especially after your dad became Iron Man. So you were homeschooled. It was pretty easy, ever since the Avengers moved in, Bruce and Tony took turns teaching you everything you needed to know. So there was no need for you to go to school.

But you were lonely. Yes, you were surrounded by the team, but they were all so much older than you. Wanda and Pietro were the only ones closest to your age not only were they still way older than you, they hated your dad for a long time so there was a small tension there. 

You spent time with your dad, hell he was your best friend, but a girl can only spend so much time with her father. Bruce was too scared to hang out with you. Steve treated you like a toddler. Sam and Bucky were fun to be with but then Steve will join and then they all act as if you’re a baby. Natasha is great to go to for advice but she rarely had time to talk with you, Clint was a whole father. And Thor, he was hardly on earth. 

That's when Peter Parker came into your life. He was the first person on the team who was your age. You and he quickly became friends, bonding over your shared interests in Star Wars and being the youngest in the Avengers HQ. 

When you first met him, you were really shy. As said before, you rarely had the chance to talk to anyone your age. If you did, it was most likely the child of another business owner at some fancy party. So becoming friends with Peter was definitely an experience. You remember the day you two became friends.

**Flashback**

You really weren’t expecting to meet Peter. Hell, you didn’t even know that he was supposed to be coming over. So,when you walked into the common room, wearing someone else’s tee shirt and a bonnet, you were shocked to see a boy next to your dad staring at you.

“Oh, Y/n! I may have forgotten to mention I was showing Peter around...” Tony said as he noticed you were sort of unprepared for a visitor.

“ yeah that would have been good to know” you say glaring at your father.

“Well then, Peter this is my daughter Y/n, Y/n this is Peter Parker, aka Spider-Man”

“H-hi! It’s nice to meet you!” Peter stuttered as he put out his hand. You smiled shyly as you took it

“It’s nice to meet you too” you said quietly, taking your hand back and looking at the floor. An awkward silence fell upon you three. Then Tony cleared his throat

“I’m gonna ignore that little awkward thing. Y/n!” He looks at you with a gleam in his eye, “Maybe you can show the kid around, it would be nice if you knew someone your age.”

“DAD!” You shout, embarrassed he basically set you up on a play date, “ I talk people my own age!”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, “ Talking to those Gothamites during galas doesn’t count.”

“We follow each other on Instagram!”

“Wow, that’s the pinnacle of friendship.” Tony replied sarcastically, “ show the kid around.” 

You sigh as you turn to Peter, who was standing a few feet away awkwardly listening to you and your dad squabble.

“ Alright web head, let’s go”

He looks at Tony, slightly fearful. But Tony only smiles and says, “ Aw a nickname, see Peter she does like you.” Then walks away, leaving you two alone.

Flashback ends ****

Who knew that from that awkward interaction, a beautiful friendship would blossom??

From then on, you and Peter were practically attached by the hip. Every day after patrol, Peter would come over and hang out with you. Whether you’re watching movies, playing video games, or cranking the other Avengers, you and Peter could always be found together. He truly became your one best friend.

Until it became more.

The light hugs he’d give you when he first saw you started to linger, you both sat closer when you were watching movies (practically cuddling), he’d fall asleep on you lap when you stroked his hair.

All this but you both still held on to the notion that you just friends. Well, Peter did.

You were really unexperienced when it came to stuff like this.  This was the first time you ever had a friend, let alone have a crush. It was easier for you to ignore these intimate moments and cling onto the idea that it was just platonic. And you did, up until your dad had the wonderful idea to invite Peters class on a tour of the Tower.

At first you really didn’t have an opinion.

If anything, you were indifferent to the idea of your home being swarmed by teenagers. It didn’t help that Steve convinced your dad that you should be present during the tour. Claiming that “ it’d be good for her to meet more kids her age instead of just Peter.”

Honestly, you had other friends! They just lived in a different city and you rarely talked.

But there you were, standing beside Bucky as your dad went on about the compound and all the nerdy science stuff. You weren’t really paying attention, you had some AirPods in. It wasn’t until Bucky nudged you when you realized that your dad was calling you.

“ Come on up kiddo” he said giving you that Dad™️ stare.

You grin at him, then glare at Bucky as he snickers into his shoulder. You make your way up to where your dad is in the front of the crowd.

“ What am I supposed to be doing” you whisper to your dad. He rolls his eyes and whispers back “ Introduction and answer some questions”

You gulp, you were always good at public speaking . You were a Stark, of course you were. But introducing yourself to your fathers business partners and introducing yourself to your peers was two different things. You eyed the crowd trying to find Peter, you found him next to a chubby boy with an awestruck look on his face and a rather pretty girl who looked like she’d rather be anywhere but here. When you made eye contact with him, he smiled and threw you a thumbs up.

That simple gesture give you all the confidence you needed to introduce yourself

“ Hi, I’m Y/n Stark. I’m seventeen years old and I live here with my dad and the team. Obviously” you say, a slight smile on your face. “ I guess I have to answer questions. But I’m not sure cause I wasn’t paying attention”

The group laughs and a few hands raise, the questions are basic “ what’s it like living with avengers?” “ Where do you go to school?” “Are you single?” Etc etc. After answering, the rest of the team introduced themselves and then split the kids into groups for the tour. You looked for the group Peter was in, finally finding him in Sam and Bucky group. You sneak away from your fathers side and skip up behind the duo. You watch them bicker over where to take their group.

“ What about the gym ?” You say, startling the two men.

“Jesus!!” “Shit!!”

You laugh, watching them dramatically clench their chest. “You’d think as highly trained soldiers you’d be more aware of your surroundings.”

“ haha.” Sam says, “ just for that you’re not allowed to be part of our group”

“ I’ll just find a way to sneak in.” You say with a grin. They roll their eyes and lead the group to the gym. You stay in place as you wait for Peter to walk by. As he does you saddle up next to him.

“Hey web slinger” you whisper in his ear. He jumps at your voice.

“Y/n??!” His voice cracks, “ don’t do that!!”

“Aw come on Pete!” You laugh, “ don’t be such a wuss!”

Then the boy next to him turns, The awestruck look back on his face

“ Your..your Y/n Stark ” he says wide eyed. You smile shyly as you turn to him, remembering where you were.

“ hi, you must be Ned. Peters told me a lot about you” you say in a low voice.

“ Peter talks to you about me” he says in a surprised voice.

“Yeah! It’s really awesome to finally meet you.” 

“ Are you two coming?” Another voice chimes in. You turn to see the pretty girl with a bored expression.

“ Oh, hey” she says noticing you, “ I’m Michelle Jones, but just call me MJ”

“Y/n Stark” you say with a smile. She nods at you and then turns to Peter and Ned.

“ Come on you two, Liz is asking where you are”

“ Liz is asking about me??” Peter says, his face turning red, “ what did she say? Did she mention my name?!”

You watch him in confusion. He never acted like this except when Natasha called him handsome that one time. Then again, if Natasha called you pretty you’d freak out as well.

MJ rolls her eyes and ignored his questions, “ So you live here?” She asks you. Her question startled you as you weren’t expecting to be talked to.

“ Ye-yeah. I’ve been with my dad since I was about two.” You stuttered.

“That’s cool!! What about your mom?” Ned asks.

You smile sadly, “ I don’t know, she’s not around much.” Sensing your sadness, Peter wrapped in arm around you.

“ Cone on guys, quit it with the questions.”

Ned looks at you apologetic and Mj looks away. Then a pretty girl walks up to your group.

“ There you are. Come on you guys, you’re not supposed to split from the group.”

Peter pulls his arm back immediately at her presence. His eyes glaze over as he looks at her with a gaze you can only describe as dreamy.

“He-hey!! Sorry Liz, guess we lost track of time..heh” He rubs the back of his neck as his face turns red. His body tensed up in anxiety but at the same time is slouched. He has a goofy grin that you’ve never ever seen before.

Seeing Peter act so differently around this girl made you feel weird. Your hands were sweaty and your chest filled with anxiety. You felt cold and hit at the same time. There was a sick feeling in your stomach.

“Are you okay?” Mj asked looking at you in concerned.

You were frowning. Ned looked at you with wide eyes “ I’m sorry about mentioning your mom! I really didn’t mean to upset you.” 

You turn to him and smile at his concern for you. “ Don’t worry about it, you didn’t know” you frown again looking at Peter walking with Liz, “ Soo, who’s that?”

“ Oh that’s Liz Allen. Peters been in love with her since like freshman year”

Your heart drops and that sick feelings return. “ Oh really?”

“Yeah, I am surprised you don’t know who that is Peter hasn’t stopped yapping about hersince freshman year.” MJ says rolling her eyes.

“ Peters never mentioned her. Just Ned and you.” You say. MJ hums at that.

“ Thats funny, Peter doesn’t talk about his internship too much. we didn’t even know you two were friends until today.”

Well, if you weren’t hurt before, now you were in absolute pain.

“Oh..really?” You ask, “ it’s probably because I hardly leave the HQ. Peter is the first friend I have here in the city.” You tried to reason, but you didn’t even convince yourself.

Ned and MJ look at you in shock, but before they can say anything Peter comes back to the group.

“ Hey guys! Liz just agreed to hangout with us this weekend!” He says to Ned and MJ, his back turned to you. You’re shocked because you were supposed to go shopping with Peter this weekend.

“ Since when were we hanging out this weekend??”  Mj asks confused with the sudden plans.

“ well...Liz was supposed to go shopping with her friends but they have plans this weekend, and she was really bummed out about it so I said she can hang out with us...” he says quickly.

“ but I thought we were going shopping..” you finally say. Peter jumps and looks at you as if he’s realizing you were there.

“ Oh crap! Y/n I’m so sorry! I completely got caught up with everything!” He apologizes, “ Hey! Why don’t you come with us! You can get to know Ned and MJ some more, and Mr. Stark and Cap will get off your back about talking to people your age”

“ That sound fun!” Ned exclaimed

“ I guess I have nothing better to do” Mj says

You want to decline at first, upset that he forgot about the plans he made with you and you didn’t really want to see him flirt with Liz. But he was looking at you with those brown eyes you love, so you couldn’t say no.

“ sure, I can’t wait..”

You smile weakly. Already dreading the upcoming weekend.

[mk-wizard]

Hellboy Films: Why animated did better than live action

Hello, friends

Many of you may not know this, but out of all the superhero comics, Hellboy is my favourite. What can I say? As a little girl, I was a misfit, so a misfit hero like Hellboy was right up my alley and the concept of someone being born to be bad to turn out so good because he had a loving father to show him the way is beautiful. My introduction to Hellboy was the first live action film in the 2000s and at the time, I liked it, but then I started reading the comics. Once I got to know the real Hellboy and series, the more I fell in love with the comics yet at the same time, the more I go to not like the live action films and not just because I found the sequel and reboot in 2019 bad. There are many problems with the three live action Hellboy films which rub me the wrong way and not simply because they are live action. Most superheroes started off as cartoon drawings, but were well done in live action, but Hellboy missed all the notes. Now as a mature adult woman who is experienced at storytelling as well as analyzing, I rewatched some of the live action and I took time to watch the animated films. The difference in quality is night and day (no pun intended and I will give links to the animated films because they are stunning). I will now tell you all where the animated films went right and how live action went all wrong.

1- Hellboy’s design was better in the animated films. - I am more than willing to be forgiving when it comes to taking artistic liberties. Sometimes, the results can be beautiful, but in the case live action Hellboy, it was all wrong and I have to blunt, we can do so much better with graphic design now than just simply taking a tall buff man, putting make up and props on him. I hate sounding mean, but both versions just look like a guy wearing a cosplaying as Hellboy. It would have been much better if Hellboy was completely and entirely CGI or perhaps even an elaborate puppet costume like the ones used in the Jim Henson films. It may sound like enough to give the hero red skin, a stone hand, horns, a tail, cloven feet (which are covered), amber eyes, pointed ears and be very tall. He STILL looks too human compared to the comic and compared to what movie makers can do, it’s lackluster.

Now, we turn to the animated version which did more than just the obvious. Hellboy isn’t inhuman looking just because of the said traits before. He is inhuman because of his proportions and shape especially his face. It is a confirmed fact that he is not just not human. He is ugly and animalistic looking. His features are the combination of a satyr and gorilla especially when you look at how thin his legs, jaw, shoulders, posture and so on.  Also, his eyes aren’t just amber. He has no pupils, no schlera (the white part) and no irises. The entire eye is nothing, but amber which makes them disturbing to look at. He cannot simply cover his face, tail and hand, then simply blend in. He cannot even wear most human clothes hence why Hellboy is always shirtless and his hooves are exposed. In other words, animated Hellboy looks like Hellboy.

2- The animated plot was clean, to the point with no filler. - While I admit the first live action film kept it pretty simple, I find that it still had a lot of filler and too much subplot. If you ever read a Hellboy comic, you will know right off the bat that Mike Mignola is a master at the art of pacing without fluff. Yes, he respect that character development and buildup takes time, but he doesn’t drag things. Ever. And he does not make everything so angsty either. Yes, he hints that the characters have issues, trauma, emotional pain and at times, depression, but he did so without making them into whiners. For the most part, the cast and hero would pick themselves up and do what they had to like adults. If anything, they were also each other’s emotional support and they don’t hate people. The animated version captured that completely and even showed us that the cast did not consist of malcontents who played the “poor me” card to death. In the beginning of Blood and Iron, Abe, Liz and Hellboy were happily talking about a bakery they had found once which reminds us that with all their hardships they do seek and accept joy in life even from something as simple as good pastries.

Moreover, the plot of the film was to the point with some amount of subplots, but without getting complicated and without the subplots contradicting each other. Everything had a way of coming together neatly and even though we did sometimes get surprises, they didn’t feel like filler. They felt like things that were always there, but now, we are aware of them. Most importantly, there was no cheap or silly selling point tactics like relationship drama or the stereotypical father-son bickering (more on this later). Hellboy is not that kind of story.

3- The subtle messages and morals in the animated films were deeper and better. - Being the mature adult I am now, I can say that the first Hellboy really was just Beauty and the Beast while using the Hellboy cast instead and it presented in the message in all of the outdated and bad ways. Don’t get me wrong, I find the idea of Hellboy falling in love romantic and I admit that underneath all of the darkness and action, everything about Hellboy comes back to love. However, it is not romantic love where the end all be all is to be accepted by humanity by getting into a relationship with a human, then turning into a handsome prince even if only metaphorically. The deeper and more important kind of love Hellboy tries to teach is self love how you are regardless how strange people deem you. If you have done something with your life and made something of yourself, then it is ok to be you and are already more loved than you realize. The other kind of love that has always been important to the series is family unity. You see, Hellboy, Liz and Abe are like siblings to each other and Prof. Bruttenholm is an incredibly loving father figure to all of them namely Hellboy who he raised since he was a baby.

He made the big red guy into the man he is today. In fact, even as an adult, Hellboy and Bruttenholm are a very sweet and kind father and son duo. They are not at each other’s throats, they don’t snark at each other or are incapable of agreeing on anything. There is no spite, there is no anger, there is no resentment and there is no ingratitude. There is only love and honestly, THIS is the love that ought to be showcased more in the films.

With that all said and done, the animated films also had their subtle deep messages which we not only understand clearly, but we also appreciate more. In the first movie Sword of Storms, it was all about finding a balance between persevering and knowing when to let go. In other words, keep doing what you must if it is still relevant and making a difference, but if it isn’t and is the reason you’re stuck, by all means quit. There are many roads to closure. In the second one Blood and Iron, it was clear from the beginning that the message was to not underestimate the elderly. They may not be as strong as they once were, but their experience and wisdom gets them and you out of tough spots. They have been through everything before and know what to do. By all means, aid them and help them, but don’t treat them like helpless babies. I also have to say that when I look at the messages the two animated films were telling us, they are not only clearer, but pretty underrated ones too. In the case of the live action films, the messages were muddled if not done before.

In short, I look at the animated films and I’m impressed. If another live action Hellboy does come along, I hope that this time, it will be done right and I really don’t want to see relationship, gore fests, snark or family drama again. Of course, this all my opinion and I would love to hear all of yours.

Thank you for reading and stay safe.

EDIT: Wouldn’t you know it? I forgot the link to all things Hellboy Animated. Here it is https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hellboy_Animated

[spideyspeaches]

Valentine ↬ p.p

A/N: this is so self indulgent and also happy Valentine's to the EST/PST timezone!!

If you saw me reposting this because I posted only half of it, no you didn't 🤔😘

Wc: 1.6k

Warnings: mentions of gummy bears (the one with cannabis), smut (mentioned) Mopey Peter XD

Summary: Peter Parker wanted to spend his Valentine's with the most beautiful girl in his college. But him being him, he chickened out last minute from asking you out, completely ruining his mood. Thank god for his roommate though and his girlfriend though. (This fic makes no sense nsdjjsjfj)

Pairing: College!Peter Parker x Reader (18+)

Masterlist

Cutie potatooie

Peter looked at the window outside of his room, the pitter patter of rain reverberating in his eardrums as he sunk down the soft mattress with a sigh.

One could say his sullen mood was because of the dull weather outside in New York city, or it could be because he didn't have a date for Valentine's.

It wasn't often that one caught Peter Parker sulking because he didn't have a Valentine date, it was a rare sight.

There was this one time he had asked Gwen Stacy out during the senior year of high school, but she ended up moving out to Oxford before they could celebrate the fourteenth of February. Things didn't really work out with Liz because of her dad and MJ, well he ended up becoming her awakening factor about her sexuality. He respected that, absolutely, he was even honoured that he was the reason she had the guts to come out as bisexual.

So he didn't really keep his hopes up in the dating department, up until he met You in college. MIT had a huge campus, and Peter Parker was ready to kiss the fates just for making him bump into you, the most beautiful girl he had ever come to know.

Call him dramatic because there are of course, other girls who were just as beautiful and attractive as You, but in his eyes, You were the most beautiful human to have ever walked earth. It was the sway of your hips and flick of your wrists that had him, capturing his heart enough for his brain to malfunction in your presence.

It was a shame that he hadn't asked you to be his Valentine for today's party. In his defence though, You didn't really know him well other than as a classmate, or your roommate's boyfriend's roommate, and he was a naturally shy person. He barely had the guts to talk to you when you were sitting right besides him during class.

"Come on man, how long are you going to sit there moping? You know I would ditch today's plans for you right? Claire would understand." His roommate, Cade said.

Cade had always been his best friend next to Ned (no one beat Ned in this race, god he fucking missed him. He missed May and Tony and Pepper and Morgan and Rhodey and the list went on and on, he was sad for another reason now).

"Okay Candace." Peter muttered, not looking up from his bag of gummies. He had a feeling they were stoner patch ones, but he didn't care. It wasn't like they were going to affect his metabolism anyways.

What he did care about was that he wasn't on a date with you today and it was completely his fault. He had been a bumbling bambling baffoon when he had gone to ask you out in the least cheesy way he could think of, and had ended up stuttering something along the lines of "roommate" and "date", just as the bell rang, cutting him off like the little gremlin it was.

"You know that's not my name Pete." Cade muttered, stealing some of the gummies before scrunching his nose and spitting them out with a muttered curse.

"Do I look like I fucking care?" Peter grumbled, wiping the lenses of his glasses on his sports t-shirt, nearly chucking them across the room when it just smudged the stain, wiping it with his cotten bedsheets instead.

"Well you gotta get up anyway, Macy's is having a special offer for the singles tonight." He said, snatching the bag from Peter's hand, who's scowled at him before flopping on his bed with a groan. He was definitely starting to feel the effects, but he knew it was temporary, probably would last an hour before he was back to his mopey self.

"Why do you have to remind me that I'm single when you have a girlfriend yourself?" Peter groaned, dragging a hand across his face, a murderous expression on his innocent little face.

"Sorry man I'm just trying to cheer you up! You know what? Come with me, I'll take you to Claire's dorm and then you can have a sleepover with Y/N, you can even play doll dress up but for the love of god, get up from that bed. How long has it been since you washed those sheets? They stink!" The darker man said, his voice taking a higher octave, pulling him by his leg to drag him out of the sheets.

Being the little shit he was, Peter scrunched his fists in the sheets, nearly tearing the seems off.

"I'm not five that you're setting me up on a playdate with your girlfriend's hot roommate."

"Well you're acting like you're five right now, and I will call aunt May if you don't get out of here right fucking now!"

"Okay okay jeez Candace calm your man tits will ya." He rolled his eyes, sitting up with a wince as his head gave a pound, the aftereffects already setting in.

And that's how he found his way through the girls dorm, with his roommate by his side as Cade navigated through the empty hallways, eerily silent in contrast of the loud banger music playing in the club below.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Peter whispered, clutching onto his friend's hand as if his life depended on it, the smell of wet grass and mud distracting him from his thoughts. The girls dorm had a really pretty garden, and he admired it as much as he could from his window without feeling the judgmental stares of the girls thinking he's another one of those pervs.

"Your over thinking is going to give you premature ulcers." Was his only response, flicking the doorbell you had installed in your dorm.

He swore his breath stopped when he heard the tell tale click of the door hatch clicking open, your face peeking out of the door as you let them both in.

You would be lying if you said that your heart didn't speed up when you saw Peter Parker standing outside of your dorm.

You weren't the kind to get jealous easily, but you were envious, maybe even a little (only a little, a little pinch) jealous of your roommate for having a boyfriend. You didn't usually pay attention to your relationship status, but you were only a little salty about the fact that you would not be spending the day of love with the person you've been in love with since you entered the campus of MIT.

You had thought of asking him out several times, saying fuck to gender roles, only to back out last second because you were not sure you would last a second without melting just by looking at his brown puppy eyes.

You gave yourself and him a last chance, hoping either of you would make a move to at least ask each other out on the fourteenth of fucking February, only to be disappointed when that didn't happen.

So you were excited when your roommate told you that your long time crush Peter Parker and you were going to be in the dorm together (alone), heart beating erratically as you saw his face come in your view.

"Hi." You said shyly, pursing your lips to suppress a chuckle as you saw his cheeks heat up, rose red blush rising up in the cutest way possible.

"Hi." He responded, his breath stuttering in the empty dorm.

A few minutes went in silence, him shifting awkwardly in his place as you tried not to look at his body. You couldn't believe the nerd was hiding all of this underneath hoodies and sweatshirts.

Damn, he's hot. You thought, realising that you said that out loud when he stuttered you a look.

"I didn't mean to say that out loud." You said, opening your mouth to apologise again, before he cut you off with a kiss. You were startled by the sensation of his soft lips, surprise leaving you too petrified to move your lips.

You counted up to five before you heard his trademark Peter Parker stuttering apology.

"Oh- I'm I'm so sorry I you don't have to kiss me this is my fault oh god I'm so stupid-"

And it was you who kissed him this time, mystified by the way your lips fitted with his perfectly, like a lock in a key ready to open.

In the end, your impatience won out, his wandering hands on the bare skin of your waist enough to send fire up your veins.

Your hands were all over him in a matter of seconds, your legs straddling his thighs as he kissed you ferociously, messing up both your and his hair.

"Here's to a happy fucking Valentine." You muttered against his lips, smiling as he snorted a response, tickling your slides with his slender fingers.

"Happy fucking Valentine to you too sweetheart." He whispered back, picking you up with ease and throwing you to the nearest bed.

"I hope this isn't going to be a one time thing." You said, watching him undress as you yourself removed your top and your shorts, leaving you in your undies and his in his boxers.

You knew he was muscular, but damn there was a whole another story going on under those clothes. Your mouth practically watered at his chisled abs, his smirk making your patience wean out as you scrambled to being him closer to you.

"I wasn't hoping it would." He said, kissing you softly this time, punctuating each word with a soft kiss. You gave a breathy moan, digging your fingers into his back muscles, realising in the way they moved, the thin chain now exposed as it sat cool on your skin.

"Good, cause I really really like you, Peter Parker."

"I really really like you too, Y/n, L/n."

A/N: what have I written 😪🤚

[trashyswitch]

Family Reunion: 40 years later.

Michael winds up getting taken while he's asleep, and brought to an alley way. What he expected to be a murder waiting to happen, turns into a family reunion he had no idea he needed...

This fanfic is for that anon that suggested this Scrap Family Reunion idea! Here's the link!

So Sweetheart, wherever you are, I hope you enjoy!

Michael was hanging out in his apartment, cleaning some things and fixing a couple items here and there. It was often a messy apartment that always had more broken things than fixed things. Though the apartment was crappy and he had the money for a better one, Michael actually didn’t mind fixing things. You could say that Michael had become ‘Henry’s special nephew’ since the moment Michael told him he had signed up for an apprenticeship. Though he found that building wasn’t really his thing, he found that engineering and some circuit-building was fun and doable.

Ever since Michael found out about the fate of his sister, Michael did as his father said and put his sister back together. But now his sister was off doing who knows what with the funtimes, and Michael was struggling to find her. But even though he attempted to find him, he knew that Elizabeth had likely found his Dad already and would be back to let him know of his state and whereabouts. How long that would take however...was a mystery.

Michael groaned and wrapped his arms around himself before pulling the blanket more onto himself. He felt really chilly in his bedroom. Did the heater break again?! God, he hoped not. Michael groaned and got himself up to check his room heater. But he quickly yelped and covered his body when he realized he wasn’t in his bed.

The man wasn’t even at home! He was on the side of the road!

No wonder he was freezing!

Jeremy quickly doubled his comforter and wrapped it around his half-naked body. Everyone knows that a man often sleeps in their underwear. But the fact that he was no longer in his house, made him really regret his decisions.

“Hello Michael.” A familiar voice said.

Michael let out a breath of relief. It was Elizabeth! Elizabeth was okay!

“Elizabeth! Thank goodness...Come out, I wanna see you!” Michael reacted gratefully.

But the bit of excitement that Michael had, immediately vaporized the moment he took a look at the animatronic. Circus baby looked completely unrecognizable! Like a completely separate person...This wasn’t the Elizabeth he grew to recognize...This was a stranger!

“Elizabeth...I…”

“A lot has happened since I left…” she said. “I can put myself together on my own now.” She showed Michael the hand that she replaced with a claw. “I have real hair now.” She showed him the orange wires and flicked them like any regular girl would flick their hair.

Michael nodded very hesitantly. He was still trying to get used to what she looked like.

“I brought you clothes.” Elizabeth told him as she handed him folded clothes.

“We should’ve gotten a sweater for him.” someone else said.

“His blanket will work just fine, Daddy.” Elizabeth replied.

Michael widened his eyes. His father is here too?!

The ruined bunny animatronic walked out of the shadows and revealed himself to Michael. When Michael saw Baby, she was completely unrecognizable. But his father...was somehow a little more recognizable in his much more ruined state. It probably helped that the bunny mask had rotted away so much that a lot more of his father’s skull was able to be seen better.

Michael took a few minutes to get dressed, and comprehend both his family members brand new appearances. It felt long. But eventually, Michael was dressed and wrapped in the blanket.

“Now Liz.” The bunny told her in a sour voice.

Suddenly, Michael felt his body being lifted up by the claw that had taken over her left hand. Elizabeth’s Baby eyes were glowing red while William’s icey silver eyes stared into Michael’s soul.

“aaAAH! WAIT! WHAT?! BUT ELIZABETH, I SAVED YOU!” Michael protested and begged.

“Did I catch you off guard?” Elizabeth asked. “Let's see how many pieces I can cut you into.” Elizabeth decided with a threatening voice. Her permanent smile made everything all the more terrifying and real.

That’s the part that scared Michael the most. “You’re gonna have to fight hard to make sure I die. But I KNOW you’re gonna make my death slow. I’ve seen your tricks before.” Michael spat.

The scrapped bunny readied his bone spear. “A little lower, Lizzy.” William told her.

As Scrap Baby lowered Michael down a little more, Scraptrap leaned his arm back to shove the spear into Michael’s chest or leg.

He was about to kill him slowly…

Right about then…

...Maybe now?...

Why the hesitation?

Michael refused to open his eyes. So, it was a huge shock to him when he felt the spear very slowly grazing his middle. Michael finally opened one eye and saw that the villainous expression on Scrap’s face had softened.

“...Daddy what are you doing?” Scrap Baby asked.

William smirked as he remembered something very interesting and…personal. “Sometimes one of the worst things a broken person can experience...is happiness.” The bunny spoke. Scraptrap wrapped his other hand around Michael’s hip points, and started digging.

Michael gasped and widened his eyes as a wobbly grin filled his face. Oh gosh...This couldn’t be happening. Was his long-time emotionless father…

Tickling him?!

Michael tried leaning the other way to get his hand off his hip. But William’s hand followed with it and continued digging and massaging. “Being tickled was never something I personally enjoyed…” Scrap Trap admitted as he paused his attack. “But I did grow to miss tickling others…”

Scrap trap used the pause to his advantage and cut the sharp edge of his own bone, right off his arm. With the end of his arm more like a pole rather than a spear now, the bunny used it to poke and prod at Michael’s side.

Michael had started snickering and struggling to keep his laughter in. “D-Dadstahap!” Michael started trying to push him away with his foot. But Baby grabbed onto his foot and stared at it intently.

Scrap Trap looked over at Baby, and smirked. He looked like he had just developed the greatest idea ever! Scrap Trap grabbed onto Michael, removing him from Baby’s grip, and wrapped the one arm around him. “I’ll hold him. It’s your turn, Liz.” Scrap Trap told her.

“Very well. I have his foot too.” Scrap Baby grabbed onto Michael’s foot like a headlock and started skittering her right hand fingers all over Michael’s foot.

Michael wheezed and wiggled around like crazy! “HEHEHEHEY! HAHAHAHA NAHAT THE FEEEHEHEEHEHEHEET!” Michael begged.

“Kitchy kitchy koo Michael~ A kitchy kitchy koo~” Baby teased. “This is fun, Daddy. Michael was always the one who tickled me. I rarely tickled Michael without getting tickles too.” she recalled from back when she was a human kid.

“Tickle him as much as you want, sweet Elizabeth.” Scraptrap told her. “I can tickle him effectively from here.”

Sure enough, Scrap Trap was tickling his upper ribs with the hand that was wrapped around him, while he poked his belly button with his left arm nub. Michael was wiggling around to get out of his grip, but it was like his father had developed super strength from his springlock accident!

“DAHAHAHAD! ELIHIHIHIZAHAHA! STAHAHAHAHAP! IHIHIHIT TIHIHICKLES SOHOHO MUHUHUHUHUHU!” Michael couldn’t even finish the last word due to all his laughing!

“Has Micky-wickey been too long without the tickles? Such a shame…” Scraptrap teased.

“Hey Daddy, do you remember how ticklish Michael’s ankles were?” Elizabeth asked.

OH NO...NOT THE ANKLE!

“BUHUHUT HOHOHOW?!” Michael asked. He couldn’t comprehend how the heck Elizabeth remembered that over 30-40 years of her possession! The only way he could really explain it, was that her memory was still quite intact after all these decades.

“30 years being possessed will give you lots of time to think and remember the good times…” Scrap Baby told him.

Michael soon wrapped his arms around the scrap animatronic’s arm that was holding him. Sensing something was up, Scraptrap stopped tickling him and wrapped his nubby arm around Michael as well. “I missed you. Not seeing you for 30 years made me grow to miss you.” Scraptrap told him.

Michael smiled a little as he comprehended that the same man that neglected him and abused him as a child, was actually treating him half decently. “I...I’ve missed you too, Dad.” Michael admitted.

“You missed me, old sport?” Scrap Trap asked.

Michael nodded and leaned his head back onto Scraptrap’s boney, but surprisingly comfy shoulder. Scrap Baby took this as a sign to maybe stop in order to keep this moment going. Scrap Baby lowered Michael’s foot down and reached her regular hand out to hold Michael’s. Michael reached out, and grabbed hold of Baby’s endoskeleton, human-like hand.

“Ballora was put back together…She is a little rusty from being scrapped.” Scrap Baby told him.

“Is it true that you based Ballora on Mom?” Michael asked.

Scrap Trap looked down a little and thought for a moment. “...Yes.” He replied. “Ballora’s design was inspired by your mother.” Scrap Trap told him.

Michael smiled. “What did she think?” Michael asked.

Scrap Trap looked at Elizabeth before looking back down. “...She didn’t appreciate it at first…”

Michael looked at Scrap Trap in surprise.

“However one day...I did see her dancing with Ballora...and imitating her dance moves...She looked so natural and graceful compared to Ballora. Ballora was built to be a strict ballerina...yet your mother didn’t follow the tense rules that belonged to ballet...she danced more gracefully and with more flow and beauty…” Scrap Trap explained.

Michael closed his eyes and took in a deep breath.

“I’m dying, Dad…” Michael admitted. “Ennard used me as a disguise to get out of the pizza world and wander the streets...I lasted a total of half an hour with Ennard inside me...But then…”

Michael looked down at his rotting self. “I threw him up...and somehow, I’m still alive…” Michael admitted. “I don’t understand...Why have I survived such a physically traumatic experience?” Michael asked.

“You have a power that most of the Aftons possess: Athanasia. Or rather...the ability to cheat death and prevail.” Scrap Trap said. “I possess it, your sister possesses it, Charlie possesses it...and now you possess it.” Scrap Trap moved some bangs out of Michael’s eyes with the boney nub, and returned to hugging him.

“Hm…” Michael looked down for a moment and over to Scrap Baby.

“Were you with Dad the whole time?” Michael asked Scrap Baby.

Scrap Baby nodded and rocked left and right like a child would. “Yes...I was.”

Michael looked at the sky as a sunrise started to form from afar. Michael watched the sunrise with wide eyes. “I...haven’t seen a sunrise in a long time.” Michael admitted.

Scrap Baby wrapped the comforter around Michael and hugged him from the side. “Me neither.”

“It’s beautiful.” Scrap Trap admitted. “We’re finally back together after all these years…” Scrap Trap told them. “I missed it.” Scrap Trap added.

Michael patted his shoulder and rubbed his back a bit. “Me too, father...Me too.”

A while after the sunrise, Michael and the scraps walked him back to the apartment. Michael gave his unusual family one last hug goodbye, and walked into the bedroom.

Michael grabbed onto his comforter tightly, and flopped onto the bed. He looked like a human burrito in his comforter. Michael took the time to sleep in and make up for the sleep that was taken from him as a sacrifice for ‘family time’.

2 hours later:

Michael’s phone started to ring from across the room. Michael groaned and covered his face with the blanket to shoo away any light that tried to peek through his comforter. The ringing went on for a couple more seconds, before stopping. Michael let out a sigh of relief and started to try and fall asleep again. But as he moved his foot around under the blankets, he felt a strong pain on his foot. He uncovered his foot and chuckled to himself as he looked at the massive bruise on the top of his foot. It was pretty much the size of his inner arch.

Michael covered his foot back up and started to fall asleep again…

BRRRRRRIIIING! BRRRRRIIIIIING!

Michael growled and got up to get the phone. He picked up his home phone and clicked the answer button. “Hello?” He asked, his voice still raspy.

“Michael, I have a plan to end the animatronic mess once and for all.” the person on the other line told him.

“Hm? Henry?” Michael clarified.

“Yes, it’s Henry. Only Henry would talk about animatronics, Mike.” The person said on the other line.

“I know. That’s how I guessed it was you.” Mike admitted.

Henry started to start off with an explanation. “Listen: I have been haunted for years by the animatronics. I want my daughter, your family, and those poor souls to be set free.” Henry told him.

“Right, right. So start explaining.” Michael encouraged.

“Okay. Here it is…”

[pastelwitchling]

Somebody to You (Chapter 2/4)

               Isobel was not even a little bit what Alex expected her to be. She flipped her hair as he’d imagined she would, and she had the same sneaky smirk that Michael did that made Alex’s heart ache, but as they strolled the museum halls, passing painting after sculpture after painting after ancient pieces of New Mexican history, her remarks were never teasing but genuine.

               She seemed fascinated less with the actual artwork and more with what Alex thought of it himself. As if she hoped to unravel the mystery of him by knowing his opinion on the mundane.

               “What about this one?” she pointed at a piece. “And that one? What about this?”

               “Isobel,” Max panicked, “don’t touch that!”

               Alex hid a smile. Max and Isobel had the relationship he’d always secretly wished he had with his brothers, despite their differences. Despite their father trying to get in between them and pin them against each other.

               He should’ve been sad, should’ve felt left out as he usually did when Michael started flirting with a girl when they were hanging out; like everything was a reminder of how much he didn’t fit, but . . . Max kept looking for his reactions, and Isobel kept her arm hooked around his and glaring at anyone that gave the only gay kid a sideways glance, and both of them felt the need to fill Alex in on any inside joke they had.

               By the end of the museum visit, Alex realized the entire trip had been listening to more of the Evans’ stories than knowing anything about the pieces they’d seen. It was nice, like being with Liz and Kyle, except one of them kept watching him, raising an inconspicuous brow whenever Alex pulled his phone out and the other kept giving him covert glances and smirking, like she knew something Alex didn’t.

               Alex almost wanted to tell Isobel that he knew about Max’s feelings for him, as surprising and out of character as they were, but couldn’t bring himself to confess to them. They’d feel real, like he was humoring Max instead of the truth, which was pining and loving his brother and forever miserable at the strange distance Michael seemed to be taking with him now.

               Too lost in his thoughts about Michael, Alex didn’t even realize that Max was holding a smoothie in his face until his nose hit the cold cup.

               Alex blinked, startled, and Max smiled softly. “Sorry. Pineapple’s your favorite, right?”

               “Yeah,” Alex said slowly, taking the cup. Isobel was holding something aggressively pink and Max’s own was a deep blue. “How’d you know?”

               An unreadable expression crossed Max’s face for a split second, but it was gone so quickly that Alex was sure he must’ve imagined it.

               “I asked Michael,” he said, gaging Alex’s reaction as he took a sip.

               Alex had no idea how much it felt like he was suffocating until he had something cold and delicious trickle into his chest, like a window was open to his heart and he was able to breathe.

               His eyes fluttered and he sighed, content. Max’s smile widened.

               Alex pulled off the straw and looked down. He was used to being watched, but people’s interests usually quickly faded. Max, on the other hand, seemed to stare more and more.

               He cleared his throat, swirling the yellow smoothie. He glanced at Isobel, to make sure was busy harassing the enamored girl behind the desk about her right to have more granola. “Can I ask you something?”

               “Me?” Max blinked. “Yeah!”

               “Why now?” Alex asked. “I mean, we’ve been around each other since middle school.”

               Max seemed to think about this a moment, then, “I guess I just never looked at you that way. I mean, you’re – you’re my brother’s best friend.”

               “But that hasn’t changed.”

               “No,” he agreed. “But . . . Michael told me you play the piano.”

               “So?”

               “So,” Max swallowed, “I didn’t know that. I never even imagined it. You have this whole emo thing going, but . . . it feels . . . like . . . there’s more to you, I guess?” He shut his eyes. “Which I know is so stupid to say because I don’t know you that well, but I – I want to. I want to . . . know the guy that looks like he could rule the Underworld and still plays beautiful music on his piano and who laughs around his friends and who’s always there for the people that need him. You’re just good, Alex.” He turned red and wouldn’t meet Alex’s eyes when he continued, “You’re – you’re cute and you’re good, and . . . I don’t know, that feels like the best kind of story.”

               Alex stared until beads of ice water fell down the side of the cup and over his fingers. He blinked, and looked down. He should’ve been angry that some stranger would claim to know anything about him, but only Michael had ever been able to tell when Alex was angry about his father, and rebelling in everything from his clothes to his makeup to his words. When he found comfort in the dark aesthetic, but everyone else was uneased by it. Alex was scary and unapproachable. Only Michael had ever known of how weighed down he could be by others’ aversion to him, how much mattered to him. And now, it seemed, so did Max.

               Alex swallowed thickly, running through the million things he would say. How’d you know? Don’t read my mind like that. How did you so easily say what Michael never seems to want to? In the end, however, he settled for, “Oh.”

               *

               Watching Alex and Isobel together was . . . not unpleasant. Far from it, actually, Max found himself laughing when Isobel eagerly tugged Alex along every few blocks to gossip about who-knows-what, and Alex scrunched his nose every so often in a way that made Max’s heart flutter. It was either giggle a little breathlessly at his reactions or press his hand over his chest and question what his racing heart meant.

               “What’s so funny?” Alex asked at one point.

               Max blushed at the idea of confessing, but he figured it would help his case, so he murmured, “You’re kind of adorable,” and took a long gulp of his drink, refusing to look at Alex for his reaction.

               They walked along the neighborhood for a long time. Isobel treated them each to a beer, and if Alex was annoyed by her at all, he definitely didn’t show it. In fact, he looked amused every time she spoke, and it made something in Max’s protective heart melt.

               Stop it, he scolded. This is fake, this is all fake. Remember your mission.

               When the time came for them to part ways, Max insisted on walking Alex to his house.

               “Ooh, Max,” Isobel hooked her arm around Alex’s. “Such a gentleman! Ready to go, Alex?”

               But Alex, Max now realized, had faltered.

               “Erm,” he gently removed his arm from Isobel’s. He looked, for the first time that Max had ever seen him, nervous. “Th-That’s okay. I like walking by myself.”

               Max shook his head. “Alex, it’s really late, I can just –”

               “It’s fine, okay?” Alex said with some edge, walking backwards. “Seriously, I don’t need help.” Then, as an afterthought, he added, “Thanks though. I had a lot of fun. Really. Goodnight.”

               “Goodnight,” Isobel murmured back, her brows pinched, and when she looked to Max, he saw the same confused concern on her face that he felt. He’d thought everything was going fine. He’d thought offering to take Alex home would be a good thing. Had he said something wrong?

               When he and Isobel made it back into the house, they stopped in the corridor that separated their rooms. Isobel leaned her shoulder against her door a moment, and with a gentle smile, she said, “I like him.”

               Max pursed his lips. The same words were on his tongue, but they felt wrong to say. Isobel didn’t know that all of it was an act, that he had only gone out with Alex to help get rid of his feelings for Michael. The softness of her blue eyes forbid Max from confessing to that truth.

               So all he did was hum, mutter a goodnight, and open his door. When he stepped in, he found Michael on the edge of his bed, leaning his elbows on his knees, his hands interlocked tightly.

               Finding Michael in his room at ungodly hours was no surprise, but Max rarely saw him so distressed, his jaw clenched, his eyes focused ahead as if he barely noticed his brother, his thumb carving into the back of his other hand, his foot tapping restlessly on the hardwood floors.

               “Hey,” Max said warily, closing his door.

               “How was the museum?” Michael said in lieu of a greeting.

               Max understood, closing the door. “Good. Great, actually, you don’t have to worry.” He sat down next to Michael with a sigh. “Isobel came with, he had a lot of fun.”

               Michael dropped his head into his hands, his fingers tugging at his curls. “Great,” he said hoarsely.

               Max stared a long moment, and his shoulders slumped. “Michael, you got to stop this. Just talk to Alex –”

               “Stop it, Max,” he ground out.

               Max shook his head. “What happened? I thought Saturdays were for you and Alex, why’d he call me?”

               “I . . .” he growled and stood, kicking a dresser. Max said nothing as his brother paced the length of his room.

               “It’s okay,” he finally said. “He couldn’t hate you, no matter what you –”

               “You didn’t see his face,” he said. “I said – I can’t believe I . . . but it had to be done. I had to . . . he wouldn’t have called you otherwise.”

               Max swallowed. He didn’t know why, but the idea that Alex wouldn’t have called him if Michael hadn’t pushed him to do it upset him more than it should.

               “R-Right,” he said and cleared his throat. “Look, would you just sit down please?”

               Michael sat down with a  huff, his foot still tapping. Max gripped his knee firmly. “Hey,” he said. “I can tell you what he did.”

               Michael nodded, eyes wide and afraid. “O-Okay. Yeah, okay.”

               So Max told him everything, from the moment Alex had come over, to Isobel inviting herself along, to the museum trip, to the smoothies they had, to the beers. When he told Michael about offering to walk Alex home and Alex’s reaction, Michael didn’t look the least bit surprised. If anything, he looked angry all over again.

               “Asshole,” he grumbled, rubbing his face with one hand.

               “Hey,” Max said heatedly, “I tried to –”

               “Not you,” Michael rolled his eyes. “Alex’s dad. Jesse Manes.” He sighed. “If he gets even a feeling that Alex might be dating a guy, he . . .” he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

               “It does,” Max said, remembering the fear in Alex’s eyes when he had offered to walk him back. “Michael, he was freaked out –”

               “I know,” Michael cut him off firmly. “Just . . . let it go, Max. There’s nothing you can do. Just don’t let his dad see you together. No matter what. Alex will be the one paying for it.”

               Max swallowed, thinking. He had rarely seen Jesse Manes around town, knowing only that everyone admired him for his military service. Max had never had an opinion other than the fact that Jesse had seemed too cold to approach, but he was nothing like Alex.

               With Alex he saw a warm light. With Jesse, there was none.

               Nonetheless, he just nodded until Michael stopped looking worried about it, and brought in another pillow and blanket for his brother to sleep in his room.

               When he laid there in bed, he pulled his phone out, scrolling mindlessly for fifteen minutes before he convinced himself that pulling Alex’s number was a good idea. He didn’t think he wanted to or should call, but . . .

               Get home okay? he texted, and regretted it the second it sent.

               “Shit,” he whispered, his eyes falling shut. Michael was asleep against the wall, snoring away. Max tapped the edge of the phone when he got no response, then shut it off, leaving it on his nightstand and not at all expecting a response. Then –

               Ting!

               Max swallowed and grabbed his phone.

               Safe and sound, Alex’s message read.

               He bit his lower lip, hesitated, then typed out, Good. Sweet dreams.

               Now that was the one he regretted. Sweet dreams? He groaned, turning his face into the pillow and tossing the phone aside.

               He stared at it from where it sat on the carpet, not expecting an answer, or maybe for Alex to make fun of him or tease him for it. Then the screen lit up and he almost fell off the bed.

               You, too, Max.

               It was stupid. It was so, unbelievably stupid, but a smile tugged at Max’s lips and a chuckle escaped before he even realized it had formed. He could almost hear Alex’s voice, soft and amused, saying his name. What if he thought Max was cute? Or kind? Or unique? What if he was just humoring Max’s ridiculousness? It didn’t matter. He hadn’t laughed at him, he hadn’t ignored him. It made Max smile.

               “You really are good,” he murmured into the night. Michael slept on.

               *

               As soon as he woke up, Michael half-groggily reached for his phone, expecting to find texts and pictures that Alex had taken on their Saturday together. Just before he opened his screen to a single text and picture from Isobel, he remembered that he and Alex hadn’t actually spent any time yesterday with each other.

               Michael deflated entirely, his phone in front of his face as he thoughtlessly clicked on the message. He sat up at once. It was a picture of Isobel taking a selfie with a begrudging Alex on her arm, laughing in that cute way he did when his nose was scrunched and his eyes narrowed.

               He swallowed. This was supposed to be him and Alex yesterday. But what really caught his eyes was Max in the corner. He wasn’t looking at the camera, but at Alex, and the look in his eyes . . . the way he smiled . . .

               Michael had never seen that before. He looked at Max, still sleeping soundly, and thought about this plan to bring his best friend and brother together.

               His thumb tapped the edge of his phone. He wasn’t bringing them together. He was just diverting Alex’s affections for a second. And then Max would go after Liz, the person he actually wanted, and all of this would be over.

               Max doesn’t have a crush on Alex, he told his half-asleep mind, trying to calm himself down as he stepped out of bed. He doesn’t.

               Then for no reason at all, Michael typed out a text to Alex, asking him to meet in the park nearby. Max murmured something in his sleep, and Michael snapped out of his thoughts. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. What was he doing? He was so close now. He couldn’t stop this.

               So he fixed his text. He asked Alex to meet both him and Max. Alex took an entire half hour to answer, and Michael knew he was an early riser, so he tried not to feel panicked that his best friend might be too angry to respond, and when the text came that Alex would need twenty minutes to get there, some relief settled in Michael’s chest and he went to wake Max.

               “Huh?” Max sat up, alert, his eyes still closed. “What – what’s happening?”

               “Get up,” Michael said with a heaviness and unwillingness he forced himself to push aside. “We’re going to see Alex.”

               *

               Alex swung back and forth on the swing, his phone clutched tightly in his hand, waiting for any other word from Michael. He was convincing himself that he was excited to see him, but the memory of his words yesterday had gone from the back of his mind to the forefront, and he couldn’t help but still feel hurt that he’d been dismissed so easily.

               “I’m just trying to have a little fun here. Am I supposed to turn down a hot girl for you?”

               Alex’s fingers gripped the swing’s chains tightly, his eyes burning. Like Alex was some nuisance, a second thought. He’d never imagined those words leaving Michael’s lips. He’d never imagined Michael, of all people, making him feel so . . . unwanted.

               Then, before he could help it, his thoughts wandered to Max. Max, who had hurried him away from the large mansion only because he was terrified his sister would scare him away. Who had been eager to get Alex’s opinion on every painting, sculpture, and relic, and actually listened when he spoke. He’d never been able to speak to strangers so easily, but sometimes it was hard to remember that that was what Max was supposed to be. It was just so easy to talk to him . . . and so easy to forget the bad things around him . . .

               Alex shook himself of those thoughts. What was wrong with him? Max was just a cuddly teddy bear, someone who had helped out once when Michael was too busy. No matter what he said or confessed to, he’d get bored and tired of the chase soon enough. He’d get bored and tired of Alex, just like everyone else did.

               When he looked up, he saw Michael first, and started to stand. Then he saw Max, and his shoulders fell.

               “Are you fucking kidding me?” he murmured, and heaved a sigh as he sat back down. He wasn’t going to just run back into Michael’s arms when his schedule allowed him to remember they were supposed to be best friends. Ruining the only day they might’ve had alone was the final straw.

               “Hey,” Michael smiled wide, and Alex’s heart started to flutter. It made him want to cry. It was so unfair, especially when he knew that Michael used that smile on every pretty girl he saw. Until yesterday, Alex had believed he was different.

               Alex ignored Michael’s greeting and glanced at Max instead, who was sleepily rubbing his eyes. Alex faltered. Had Max gotten out of bed just to see him? The thought made him soften. It wasn’t fair, after all, to blame Max for Michael’s behavior.

               “Hi, Max,” he said, and Max blinked, clearly surprised at being spoken to.

               He put his hands in his pockets and cleared his throat. “Uh – hey, Alex.” Another glance at Michael. “Y-You look nice.”

               Maybe Max was waiting for Michael to approve of this compliment, to tell him how smooth he was being with his crush, but Michael’s eyes were focused on Alex, his expression solemn.

               Max seemed to sense the tension because he exhaled slowly and pointed at the swing next to Alex’s. “That swing taken?”

               Alex couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of his lips, no matter how brief, and he shook his head. Max took the swing and swung back and forth as if nobody else was there.

               “Come on, Alex,” Michael murmured, kneeling in front of him. “If this is about yesterday –”

               “If it’s about yesterday?” Alex scoffed humorlessly. “Who are you, and what have you done with my best friend?”

               Michael looked hurt. “That – that’s not fair.”

               “No?” Alex shook his head. “Saturdays are supposed to be ours, Guerin, and you treated me like some brat you had to put up with!”

               “I didn’t –” Michael’s mouth opened and closed on several sentences, seemingly appalled at the idea. “Alex, I just –”

               In a voice too quiet for Max to hear, Alex said, “You invited Maria. Was that just to hurt me?”

               His eyes widened. “No!”

               “Did I –” Alex faltered. “Did I do something to piss you off, or –”

               “Alex!” Michael couldn’t seem to believe that Alex would go down that road.

               Alex clenched his jaw. “Well, what was I supposed to think? I can’t believe you would even talk to her again after what she did to me! I –” he broke off with a shaky sigh, looking away from Michael and Max to keep them from seeing the tears fill his eyes. “I thought you were my friend.”

               “Don’t say that,” Michael said hoarsely, taking Alex’s hand in his. Alex hated the shivers it sent down his body. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I – I just knew that it hurt losing a friend like that, and I thought that it would make you feel better if – if I could fix it –”

               “The only person in the world I care about losing is you,” Alex argued, and Michael said nothing for a moment. Alex realized his mistake at once, and he looked down, his face heated. “I thought I was losing you yesterday. I thought you’d . . . forgiven her for what she’d done. Like my feelings didn’t matter as much as a pretty girl.”

               A moment of silence. Even the creaking of Max’s swing had stopped. Then Michael tugged on his hand.

               “No one . . .” Michael started and abruptly cut himself off. Alex looked back at him to see his expression was conflicted. Before Alex could ask what was wrong, what had been wrong with him lately, Michael forced a smile to his lips. It was a play at his usual light one without any of the lightness.

               “You know the fair’s going on until next week,” he said. “Why don’t – uh – why don’t we go together? Tomorrow? Just you and me?”

               Alex should’ve been thrilled at the idea, but something . . . something was off. Michael looked like he was more miserable at asking for it, and Max was looking at them strangely solemn.

               Realization dawned. Michael was hesitant to go out with Alex alone when he knew his brother had feelings for him. Alex glanced at Max again. He would’ve preferred to be on his own with Michael, but the idea of going with Max didn’t seem so bad either.

               He internally sighed. “Max,” he turned to him, “why don’t you come with us?”

               Max raised a brow. Michael stopped pretending to smile and his brows furrowed. Alex didn’t understand. Wasn’t this what he’d wanted?

               Then Max smiled, and Alex’s attention was caught. “Yeah? You really want me to come?”

               Warmth bloomed in Alex’s chest, and something like a breath of relief escaped his lips, his first real breath since he’d gotten Michael’s text to meet. Maybe Max would get tired of the chase, but . . . better to get the inevitable over with sooner than later, right?

               “I mean, if you want to,” Alex played at a shrug. Max chuckled and looked down.

               He nodded. “Yeah, yes, I do.”

               Alex realized he and Max were just staring at each other. He blushed and looked back at Michael, expecting to see him overjoyed. But his smile was tighter than ever.

               “Great,” Michael said. “That’s just . . . perfect. Exactly what I was hoping for.”

               *

               “Okay,” Max plopped down on the bed, feeling filled up on lunch and something else he’d been feeling since Alex had invited him along with them to the fair tomorrow. “What’s wrong?”

               “Nothing,” Michael sniffed roughly, replacing his jacket with another one of his own that he’d left in Max’s closet. “It’s all going according to plan, right?”

               “Yeah,” Max nodded, “so why do you look like you’re two seconds away from clocking me?”

               “What?” Michael looked over his shoulder with pursed lips, without actually looking at Max. “I’m not. It’s great, right? He invited you all by himself.”

               Max smiled to himself at the thought. “Yeah,” he said, his voice soft to his own ears.

               Michael finally met Max’s eyes for a long while, studying his expression. Then he turned, smiling with narrowed eyes. “Are you . . . you’re not . . .?”

               Max raised a brow, waiting for his brother to elaborate.

               “You’re not . . . starting to actually like Alex, are you?”

               Max’s eyes widened and he scoffed. He started to say that he absolutely wasn’t when he caught himself. He thought of Alex’s kind eyes and his laugh and the hurt in his voice when Michael ignored him. He thought Alex had had enough people dismissing him behind his back.

               “Of course I like him,” he said. “He’s nice, you know? There’s nothing wrong with him.”

               “Yeah,” Michael said with a nod, as if reassuring himself. “Yeah, I mean . . . you like him like you like Kyle, right?”

               Max hesitated. “Michael . . . do you like Alex?”

               “I love Alex,” he said at once. “Just not like that.”

               No, Max silently agreed. Not like that. Michael’s feelings seemed more . . . possessive, though he didn’t want to talk about things he wasn’t sure of. All he knew was that Michael wanted Alex to himself. He didn’t know how to tell him that that wouldn’t work with the plan.

               “I’m sure he just brought me along because he felt bad for me,” Max placated, though the idea made him want to curl up on his bed. “You know, you did bring me along for no reason.”

               “No,” Michael said with that same forced lightness, turning back to his clothes. “No, this is good. Like I said, it’s great! Alex is starting to want you along. The plan is working perfectly.”

               “Yeah,” Max muttered, noticing the way Michael roughly tugged his sleeves down. “Perfectly.”

               *

               “This is a bad idea,” Kyle said as soon as Alex had called to tell him his plans for tonight. “I think you’re forgiving him way too easily.”

               Alex’s phone sat on speaker on his nightstand. He sighed, fixing his hair so that it looked less like he’d walked through a hurricane, but the strands remained windswept and messy and he gave up.

               “He made a mistake,” Alex said for what felt like the millionth time. “Everyone makes mistakes.”

               “Not that kind of mistake!” Kyle argued, his frustration evident. “Alex, he invited Maria!” Alex flinched at the name and was glad his friend couldn’t see him. “That’s like if I invited Jared!”

               “Jared Wilson is a homophobic ass,” Alex argued at once, and calmed the edge in his voice. “It’s not the same thing.”

               “Both of them made life a lot harder for you when they realized you were gay.”

               To that, Alex had no response. He didn’t care. He loved Michael, and being angry with him felt wrong. He didn’t want it.

               He sat on his bed’s edge and played with the buttons on his black cardigan. It was new, something he wanted to wait to wear until he and Michael were alone, because Michael always liked hugging Alex as they walked and clinging to his side, and Alex had wanted Michael to feel soft and warm when he hugged him. It should bother him that he did so much of what he did with the worry of how Michael will take it, even though they’re not dating and could probably never date, but every so often, that traitorous bit of hope would claw its way to the surface and tell him that it could still happen.

               Maybe all it took was Michael knowing how he felt. It didn’t matter. Alex could never do it.

               “I don’t want to lose him,” he said quietly. Kyle didn’t answer. Alex half-wished that he hadn’t heard him, but he doubted it.

               Finally, Kyle sighed and said, “I know.” A pause, then, “What about Max?”

               Alex blinked. “Max?”

               “Yeah,” he said. “Seems like he really likes you.”

               Alex wanted to scoff, but what left his lips instead was, “Yeah?” Kyle chuckled and Alex blushed. “N-Not that I care! I just don’t want to get his hopes up for nothing.”

               He hummed. Alex hated how he could hear the amusement in his voice. “Okay, well,” he said, “don’t count him out just yet.”

               Alex was about to retort when a door suddenly slammed outside his bedroom. He heard the heavy footsteps of hunting boots and swallowed thickly. He tried to keep his light voice as he turned off his speaker and held the phone up, “Hey, I-I’ll see you at school, okay?”

               “Uh –” Kyle was clearly thrown off by the sudden change in conversation. “Sure, but are you –”

               Before he could finish his question, Alex hung up and put his phone aside. Then he caught himself in the mirror. His eyeliner. He was already wearing it.

               “Fuck,” he breathed.

               His heart hammered in his throat as the footsteps stopped outside his room and the door swung open. His father stood there.

               “Did I hear you talking to a boy?” he demanded.

               “N-No,” Alex said at once, cursing his stammering. “I mean, yes, but it was just Kyle.”

               Jesse hummed. Alex’s heart sunk into his stomach when Jesse closed the door behind him and stayed inside.

               “Dad,” he started, “really, I was just –”

               “Come here,” Jesse said with a wave of his fingers. When Alex didn’t move, Jesse fixed his son with his cold blue eyes. “Alex, come here.”

               Alex swallowed and resisted the urge to cower away. If his father hated disobedience, he hated a coward more. So Alex marched up to him swiftly as he was trained to do, his shoulders straight despite his lowered eyes, and the second he was close enough, Jesse grabbed his face in one hand, his grip painful.

               “What is that,” he said coldly, “on your eyes?”

               Alex clenched his jaw, trying not to whimper even as his dad’s hand nearly broke his jaw. Even as he knew what was coming. Not for the first time, as his fingers trembled on his dad’s wrist, he wished Michael could be here to protect him.

               *

               Max was in Alex’s class, and it was rare that a Manes was late, but Alex didn’t show up until halfway through the first lecture. He had a black sweater on with a collar that hid most of his chin and long sleeves that fell past his fingers, despite the fairly warm weather. His arms were stiff at his side, and his eyeliner was smudged a little bit.

               The math teacher said nothing to his most brilliant student about being late, and just gestured at him to take a seat. Max lifted his head off his desk and tried to catch Alex’s eyes, but Alex was staring straight ahead.

               Liz turned around in her seat, her brows furrowed. Max didn’t hear her murmurs, but whatever she said, Alex merely nodded once in response, his smile small. Liz didn’t look reassured, and Max realized he was inching out of his seat.

               “Yes, Mr. Evans?” the teacher said.

               “Uh – nothing, sir,” Max said and sat back down. “Sorry.”

               Some of the other students snickered, but Max didn’t care, because at least Liz was looking at him. He swallowed and pointed at Alex, the silent message clear. Liz nudged Alex’s arm softly and gestured with her chin at Max. Alex looked over.

               Max didn’t know what to do but raise his hand in a little wave. Alex just looked away again, his shoulders scrunched as he almost folded in on himself. He looked out the window and didn’t seem to pay attention to another word of the lecture.

               Max tried to catch Alex in the hall in between classes, to ask him if he was all right, but Alex just shrunk away from him.

               “I’m fine,” he muttered.

               “Alex, wait a second,” Max tried, instinctively reaching for his wrist.

               He’d barely touched him when Alex flinched away. “Don’t do that!” he snapped, making the entire hallway of students stop and turn to stare. Alex looked furious and terrified all at once. “Don’t ever, ever grab me!”

               Max stood frozen with his hand outstretched, stunned, and the hall filled with a heavy, tense silence. Alex didn’t seem to care. He kept glaring at Max a moment longer, his breathing quick like he was on the verge of crying, and he whipped around to where a startled and concerned Liz was ready to guide him away.

               Murmurs broke out over the crowd, and Max heard more than a few people call Alex a number of things, all ranging from “freak” to “psycho,” before they came to check that Max was okay after that outburst. Max could only be offended.

               Alex was clearly suffering with something, didn’t anyone notice or care?

               When Max got to lunch, Isobel was already standing. She looked as she rarely did; her bright smile gone, replaced with a solemn frown. “Hey,” she tugged Max down as soon as she caught sight of him. “What happened with Alex in the hallway? Rosa said he suddenly started screaming at you?”

               Max shook his head. “Something’s wrong with him,” he said.

               Isobel’s frown deepened. “Hey, don’t say that, you don’t know what could be –”

               “No,” Max cut her off, indignant that she could assume he meant the worst. “I mean, something’s wrong with him, like something must’ve happened. He’s usually a lot nicer. And he showed up late. He never shows up late.”

               Isobel rubbed her jaw as she looked over at Alex’s table where both Liz and Kyle were encouraging him to eat something, the concern evident on their faces.

               “I mean, it’s not exactly new, right?” she muttered. “He’s freaked out like this before.”

               Max pursed his lips. Alex had seemed so excited yesterday when Michael had asked him to the fair. What could’ve happened from then till now? Had Michael done something? No, he would’ve warned Max.

               Then he remembered something Michael had told him about Jesse Manes . . .

               His shoulders fell. “Shit.”

               Isobel seemed to realize he’d figured it out, and eagerly asked, “What? What is it?”

               Max hesitated. “You can’t tell anyone. I mean, not even the Ortechos. No one, Isobel.”

               “My lips are sealed,” she quickly promised.

               Max licked his lips. “Well, remember how nervous he was when I offered to walk him home the other night?”

               “Yeah?”

               “Michael told me about his dad,” he said. “Apparently, he really, really doesn’t want his son to be gay.”

               Isobel’s eyes widened with horror. “Alex is scared of his dad?”

               “He’s wearing long sleeves, and he’s sweating through it,” Max said darkly by way of saying what he didn’t want to outright.

               Isobel gasped. “You think he . . . hits him?”

               Max shook his head, not wanting to believe that Alex had that kind of father, but . . . “I’ve never heard Michael so unnerved by someone outside of his foster parents.”

               “Oh my god,” Isobel whispered, her wide, glassy eyes turning to Alex who was sitting slumped in his chair as if allowing himself a few seconds to stop pretending he was fine. “Oh my god,” she started to stand, to go over to him, but Max grabbed her arm and sat her back down.

               “Don’t,” he warned. “Michael didn’t want to tell me, and I doubt Alex wants anyone to know.”

               “He’s beating him!” Isobel whisper-yelled through grit teeth. “We – we have to tell somebody!”

               “Not if Alex doesn’t want us to,” Max argued.

               “Max!”

               “He has brothers,” Max said, and Isobel fell silent. “The last thing Alex needs right now is for the only family he has to hate him because they think he told on their dad. Not if Alex doesn’t want us to.”

               Isobel clenched her jaw, her eyes miserable, and she nodded. It was clearly the last thing she wanted to do.

               “I don’t know how you can bear it,” she breathed, looking over to Alex like she wanted nothing more than to hug and protect him. “He’s so sweet, I don’t know how you can bear it.”

               Isobel, of course, couldn’t see Max’s clenched, trembling fists beneath the table as he watched Alex start to eat despite himself, start to smile like he was so used to the beatings that he’d learned to work past them after a while, wondering the exact same thing.

                 Technically, Michael’s official house was an airstream at the junkyard where old man Sanders had let him stay while he had a part time job after school. Max wished Alex hadn’t known the whole story because then at least, as they went together to the auto shop, Max would have something to say instead of wallowing in the awkward silence between them.

               In fact, awkward wasn’t really the right word. Heavy seemed more appropriate.

               The weather was cooling quickly, making it more bearable for Alex’s sweater. Max half-wondered what Alex would do if he reached down and looked for his fingers underneath the sleeves.

               “I’m sorry,” Alex mumbled, and Max snapped out of his thoughts. Alex had said nothing on the drive over, nodding quietly in thanks when Max had offered to drive him as they were both going together, but his eyes were on the ground now.

               He looked so shy for once that Max was caught off guard.

               “Huh?”

               “For yelling at you,” he went on, even more quiet. “I didn’t mean to . . . I just don’t like . . .”

               “Being grabbed,” Max finished. He stopped, and Alex did the same. “Alex, I would never hurt you, okay? I wouldn’t.”

               Alex wouldn’t look at Max, but Max could see his breathing getting quicker, his jaw clenching tighter and tighter.

               “What did Michael tell you?”

               Max tried to school his features. “Nothing.”

               He was sure Alex would snap at him, would turn right around and cut off his friendship with both him and Michael. Instead, he scoffed wearily. “You’re just as bad a liar as he is.”

               Raising his chin and pretending that it didn’t cause him pain to fix the bag on his shoulder, Alex forged on ahead. “I don’t need anyone’s pity.”

               Max followed in silence, but only for a minute. “My mom knows someone in the state council, I could talk to her –”

               Alex whipped around, his eyes wide and terrified. “Don’t! You can’t, Max, please, don’t ever –”

               “Okay!” Max took Alex’s hands to calm him. He was rambling, his fingers shaking. “Okay, I – I won’t, Alex, calm down.” When Alex had been reduced to a trembling figure, Max pulled him in gently against him. “I won’t tell, I promise. Just calm down, okay? Please, calm down.”

               Max’s chin was on Alex’s head. He had a hand in Alex’s hair – it was so much softer than he could’ve imagined – his other hand running up and down his back, trying not to scare him again with any sudden movements.

               “It’s just me,” Alex croaked out against Max’s chest. “It’s only me. Because I’m . . .” He shook his head. “He doesn’t hurt them. They – they don’t care about enlisting. They’re happy to do it. I don’t want to ruin their lives, please –”

               “Okay,” Max whispered into Alex’s hair. He smelled like vanilla. “Okay, Alex, it’s okay. I won’t tell, I promise. I promise.”

               They stood there like that for a long time, Max’s fingers raking through Alex’s hair, taking in the way each strand felt against his fingers. He felt the strong muscles of Alex’s back even through his sweater. He couldn’t help it. Everything about Alex was a mystery, and the more he uncovered, the more he wanted to know.

               A breath escaped his lips, and Alex tensed. He stepped back, unwilling to look at Max, his face tinged pink.

               “S-Sorry,” he murmured.

               Max nodded, putting his hands in his back pockets to keep from reaching out for him again. “Me, too. It’s – uh . . . been a long couple of days.”

               Alex sighed, rubbing his face with one hand. Max resisted the urge to ask how bad the pain was underneath the sweater, but if he was being honest, he didn’t think either of them wanted the answer to that question. So he nudged his head towards Michael’s trailer, and waited for Alex to lead the way.

               “What’s your favorite fair treat?” Max asked before they could get to the door. He didn’t know why, but he wanted just a few more seconds before Michael joined them.

               “What?”

               “Fair treat,” he repeated. “You know, they sell a lot of snacks at fairs. They’ll be selling a lot tonight. Which one do you like best?”

               “Uh . . .” Alex thought about it. “Cotton candy? I guess? The, you know, big swirls?”

               “Okay,” Max nodded, grinning. “Then I’ll buy you the biggest swirl they have.”

               Alex’s eyes widened and he turned pinker. It was so cute that Max had to giggle.

               “I have my own money.”

               “So?” Max shrugged. “I want to get you something. I thought about winning you a prize during one of the games, but that feels a little cliché, you know?”

               Alex opened and closed his mouth on several sentences, and Max wondered if Michael had ever offered to buy him anything with the promise that it meant something more.

               Alex looked away with a shake of his head. “You’re silly,” he muttered, and opened the door, climbing inside.

               Max followed, still grinning. They found Michael dressed and looking for the keys to his truck.

               “Hey!” Alex said a little breathlessly. “You ready to go?”

               Michael froze, looking over his shoulder. Max’s smile fell at once. Oh no . . .

               “Crap,” he said, sounding genuinely apologetic. “Crap, we said we were going to the fair tonight!”

               Another act, Max thought. “Michael,” he said quietly, a private warning, “today really isn’t the day to –”

               “I don’t get it,” Alex cut him off, his brows furrowed. “If you – if you forgot about the fair tonight, then why’re you in such a hurry to leave?”

               Michael shrugged, glanced at Max, and said, “I have a date.”

               Alex was silent a moment. “You . . . have a date.”

               “Yeah.”

               “But –” Alex shook his head. “The fair was your idea. Why’d you ask me to come with you if you knew you were going to be busy?”

               “I didn’t know when I asked you,” Michael said, and Alex stared. Despite his hidden fingers, Max did not miss the way they curled to fists.

               “So you –” Alex cut himself off abruptly, smiling incredulously, like he couldn’t believe his other half had stooped so low. “You made plans with someone else when you already had plans with me?”

               “Alex,” he huffed, exasperated. “Are you gonna get like this every time I’m meeting someone? A very attractive friend asked me out tonight, I said yes.”

               “But you’re my friend, too,” Alex argued. “When we make promises to each other, we’re supposed to follow through on them, it shouldn’t matter if you have a ton of friends or not.”

               “Well, it’s not my fault you don’t have any friends, Alex.”

               “Michael!” Max stepped forward, but Alex held a hand up. He didn’t look tense or frozen to the spot. He looked like every horrible thought that had ever crossed his mind about his friendship with Michael, every doubt that had ever haunted him, every fear of being unwanted or not good enough, it was all coming true.

               To Alex, Michael didn’t consider him worth anything.

               To Alex, Michael wasn’t protecting their friendship. He was shattering it beyond repair.

               He looked resigned and exhausted. Michael seemed to realize that too late.

               “W-Wait,” he tried, “I didn’t – I didn’t mean –”

               “You’re my friend,” Alex quietly defended. “You’re . . . you’re my . . .” He shook his head, like it didn’t matter anymore. He turned to Max. “D-Do you – uh – do you still want to come with me? To the – the fair?”

               He was clearly terrified, clearly unwilling to go at all if Michael didn’t want to, but wanting to prove that he was unhurt. That he wouldn’t break. Max was in awe of his courage.

               “I was just going to ask you the same thing,” Max said.

               A brief, barely-there smile tugged at Alex’s lips before it was gone. Without another word or glance at Michael, he left. Michael stared at the open door like he wasn’t even in the room, like he was numb and out of body. He’d gone too far this time.

               Max shook his head. “You were so terrified that he was in love with you . . . that you decided to make him hate you instead.”

               “I told you,” Michael said hoarsely, his eyes filling with tears. “He’ll only hate me for a little bit.”

               “And you’re willing to bet on that?” Max tilted his head. He promised Alex he wouldn’t tell anyone else what his father had done to him, but he leaned in anyway and said, “Because if I were you, I would think a little harder instead about why he’s wearing such a long sweater near the end of spring.”

               And with those final words, Max turned and left, catching only the realization in Michael’s eyes before he shut the door behind him. Alex was already in the car, hugging his arms and staring out the window.

               Max got in and shut the door. He exhaled slowly, “Alex –”

               “Just drive,” Alex said hoarsely, like he’d been crying for hours though his eyes were dry. “Please just drive.”

               Max swallowed and turned on the ignition. He didn’t want to be a hero here. He didn’t feel like one. The only reason Michael had hurt Alex this badly at all was so that he could swoop in. But this seemed like too high a cost.

               It didn’t matter in the end. Max did as Alex wanted, and drove.

                 The fairy lights were already strung up when Max and Alex got to the fair, plenty of booths already up with lanterns lighting the way, showering everything in gold. It looked more like a market with a few chances for the kids to win toys, but Max watched as Alex eyed each booth and necklace and dress like they were the only good parts of a bad memory.

               “My mom used to bring us here a lot,” he said, “back when she was around.”

               “When did she die?” Max asked quietly.

               “She didn’t,” Alex said simply. “She left. But this fair . . . it’s my favorite time of the year. Michael knew that.”

               “Alex,” Max shook his head. “I’m sure . . . I’m sure he had a reason for what he did.”

               Alex scoffed, but the press of his lips was both sad and sincere. “I know he did. But god, what could be worth all this?” he gestured at his own face, the exhaustion and misery there. “I can usually read him, but this time I just . . . can’t. I hate not knowing.”

               Max thought about that, and realized he was the same way when it had to do with someone he loved. How was he going to save someone who didn’t want to be saved?

               “Tell me something you do know,” he offered. “You said your brothers are happy to enlist. Does your dad make them all?”

               “No,” Alex sniffled. “No, dad would never make any of us enlist. He pushes it hard, and all the time, but . . . no, if you don’t want to enlist, then just don’t bother coming back home, you know?”

               Max hesitated. “Have you ever . . .?”

               He expected Alex to laugh it off or be indignant about anyone even considering that he would ever enlist, but he only sighed and confessed, “Sometimes.”

               Max stared. “S-Seriously?”

               Alex shook his head, smiling, and for once, he didn’t look sarcastic or amused. He just looked sad. “You don’t know what it’s like there. Or how bad it gets, and – and sometimes I think . . . I couldn’t afford a place of my own. I could escape him though. I could rise in ranks, I could beat him –”

               “Beat him some other way!” Max argued, and a few heads turned to look. Alex didn’t look like he cared, he never did, but Max stepped closer. “You can’t enlist, Alex.”

               Alex looked away. “I said I thought about it, okay? Only when things get really, really bad. It doesn’t mean I’ll do it. I’ll find some other way.”

               He didn’t sound sure, but Max couldn’t have been more sure of his abilities and talent. Alex was the strongest and smartest person he knew, he could easily make it out there. And what if . . . what if he had Max there with him? Supporting him? Helping him? The two of them together in a small apartment in New York or something –

               Max shut his eyes. He wasn’t supposed to think like that. This wasn’t supposed to be long-term. Soon enough, Michael would tell him the truth, and it would all be over. Alex might even hate him for it. He didn’t want to think about that though, so he bought Alex the biggest blue cotton candy swirl, got one for himself, and laughed with Alex about the sizes.

               About an hour in, Alex seemed to really be having a lot of fun. He was laughing at Max’s stupid jokes and tugging on his arm to show him little ceramic toys for sale and even a small aquamarine necklace that glittered in the moonlight with a gold chain so thin it was almost a silk thread.

               When Alex wasn’t looking, Max bought the necklace, and snuck up behind him, letting it rest in the dip of his collarbone.

               “W-What –”

               “For you,” Max said.

               Alex touched the stone, still stunned. “Max, I’m not – I’m uncomfortable accepting so many gifts from people.”

               “I’m not just people though,” Max said simply. “I’m your . . .” he caught himself, “f-friend.”

               Alex looked at him. Max may have been wrong, but he could’ve sworn Alex had seemed disappointed for a moment at the use of the word friend.

               “R-Right,” he murmured. “Still, no more gifts, okay?”

               “No promises,” Max grinned, and his heart jumped when Alex’s face turned that same shade of pink. He was starting to wonder if he could turn it any darker when Alex glanced up and froze.

               “Oh my god,” he breathed.

               “What?” Max followed his gaze, and understood what it was that had terrified him. Making their way towards them was some man in uniform, and beside him was Jesse Manes, hands folded behind his back with his medals shining on his uniform jacket, smiling at booths and laughing with children who ran past.

               That, Max realized, was the most frightening part. Who would believe Alex if he told them their beloved sergeant was a monster?

               Alex stepped back, already trembling. He turned, but the crowd had gathered around them. Even if he stood in the shadows outside the lanterns’ light, he was still visible to anyone passing by, especially if his dad was looking through the booths. He would see Alex here, and just the implication that he was here with Max would get him hurt again.

               Alex hugged himself. “Think, Alex,” he whispered to himself, looking around frantically for a hiding spot. “Think.”

               Max looked back at Jesse. He was getting closer. He couldn’t stand seeing the usually intimidating Alex so frightened now. He had to protect him.

               He took Alex’s hand in his own and pulled him into the shadows, up against a booth. “Is your dad uncomfortable with PDA?”

               “What?”

               “Is he?”

               “Uh – yeah!” Alex shook his head, confused. “He hates it –”

               “Good,” Max breathed, taking Alex’s face in his hands, and before Alex could ask what he was doing, Max closed the distance between them and covered Alex’s mouth with his own. Alex stood frozen against him, but Max wouldn’t pull away, his body blocking Alex’s from sight.

               Half of him was silently urging Alex to play along, if only long enough to get his father’s attention away, but as Alex whimpered softly against his lips, his body melting against Max’s, his hands coming up to Max’s chest, clutching his shirt, Max suddenly forgot all about Jesse Manes.

               He forgot about the fair, he forgot about the booths around him, the crowd of people. He couldn’t think of anything but how soft Alex’s lips were, how perfectly he fit in Max’s arms. Max wanted to taste more of him, so he slipped his tongue in. Alex moaned, pressing unbearably close, and Max could feel him. His toned chest, his flat stomach.

               Max had never wanted to feel another man’s chest until this moment, to claw down his stomach, to feel the muscles of his back. Max tilted his head, bringing his hand around the nape of Alex’s neck and reaching his fingers through his hair, tugging a little on the strands.

               Alex’s hands came up to Max’s face, one hand reaching into his hair. Max wanted to tilt his head, to deepen the kiss, to put his hands up Alex’s shirt and feel his skin. He wondered if it was as sexy as the rest of him – he knew it had to be – and his hand had just fallen to Alex’s hip, tugging at the hem of his sweater, when he heard someone behind him scoff –

               “Ugh, disgusting,” a voice said, and Max snapped out of his thoughts.

               He pulled away, pressing his forehead to Alex’s, the both of them panting heavily. Alex’s eyes were closed, and Max took the opportunity to trace his deeply red cheeks with the tips of his fingers, his rosy, kiss-swollen lips.

               “Wow,” he breathed.

               “Yeah,” Alex swallowed and opened his eyes. They fluttered again as Max traced his thumb across his lips for the second time. “That – that was –”

               “Wow,” Max finished.

               Alex huffed a breathless chuckle. “Are you okay?”

               Max shook his head. “Wow.”

               Alex started to laugh, but seemed to remember they were supposed to be hiding. He covered his mouth with his hand, his eyes wide. Max wanted to hear his laugh, so he looked over his shoulder for any sign of Alex’s dad, but he was so far down the path that by the time Max had tilted his chin up to get a better look, Jesse Manes and his friend were completely gone.

               When he nodded to Alex, Alex’s grin widened and he laughed happily into the night. He jumped into Max’s arms, his own wrapped around Max’s shoulders.

               “Thank you!” Alex said into his shoulder, his voice muffled and filling Max’s chest with butterflies. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He heaved a deep sigh, probably the deepest he’d had in a while. “Thank you, Max.”

               Max wrapped his arms around Alex’s waist, keeping him close and steady against him. In the back of his mind, he could hear Michael’s one, big warning about Alex.

               “Don’t kiss him.”

               But now, in this moment, as he could still feel Alex’s soft, warm lips against his own, as he could hear his moans and smell his sweet scent, he couldn’t remember why.

               He smiled into the crook of Alex’s neck and said, “You’re welcome, Manes.”

It’s finally here! Please please please comment and reblog/share if you enjoyed reading even a little bit, it always makes the world of a difference 💗 I’m going to bed.

[thetwistedargent]

"Elizabeth, why can't you see that everything I've done has been for you?" Red says with an eye roll.

“Oh, I don't know, maybe because while you were playing house with your little girlfriend, my life was falling apart!” She huffs.

And that’s when he finally sees it.

He takes a step closer, so that he’s nearly touching her. It’s like playing with fire.

“Are you jealous, Lizzie?” He says as a devious grin spreads across his face.

She rolls her eyes to hide her emotions, but the blushing of her cheeks is a dead giveaway and they both know it.

Oh, yes. He is enjoying this very much. A very flustered Lizzie is one of his favorite sites, especially when he's the one who's making her flustered.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I hate you.”

“Hate and jealously are such similar emotions. It’s so easy to confuse one with the other, but…” He says as he leans in closer so that their bodies become pressed together. “Let me assure you that my relationship with Anne in no way lessens my feelings for you. You are still everything to me, Elizabeth. You are the person I would burn down the world for. You light a burning desire inside me like no one else ever has. While I might enjoy spending time with her, it doesn’t change the fact that you consume my every thought.”

Liz gasps audibly, her chest rising and falling in quick succession as his brutally honest words sink in. Her head is spinning. She’s dizzy. And angry. Relieved. And incredibly aroused.

And so she does the only thing she can possibly think to do and kisses him.

The kiss is rough and full of need. Hands are pulling and ripping at clothes. Neither one of them is sure how they get there, but they end up tumbling onto the bed.

The rest is just a blur of grunts and moans and thrusts that ends with a much needed release of tension.

“Fuck you, Red.” She spits out, and not in the good way, as she scratches her nails over the back of Red's head.

Her legs are still wrapped around him. Her body is still trembling from her last orgasm.

His chin rests softly on her stomach as he stares up at her with a smirk.

“Sorry, sweetheart, but I’m not 20 anymore. My refractory period is a little longer than it used to be.”

She rolls her eyes. He knows that isn't what she means, but honestly, he has been trying to avoid where this conversation is ultimately going.

“Fuck you for making me want to forget everything…. For making me want to end this quest for the truth that I’ve turned my life upside down for…” She inhales deeply.

“Don’t do it.” He says honestly.

“What? You’ve been trying to get me to stop for months. What changed?”

“Nothing, changed, Elizabeth. That’s the point. As much as I want you to give up this ridiculous quest for a truth that if you uncover will only lead to disaster, I know that if you give up now it will only delay the inevitable. And when the newness of being in bed with me wears off, that same desperate need for answers will return. Only this time, it will certainly destroy both of us. It’ll hurt you even worse, and I cannot bare that.”

He crawls up her body and brings his forehead to rest against hers. He closes his eyes. He can feel her breath on his lips.

“Then tell me the truth.” She says as she presses her lips against his.

“I can’t.” He says, his voice full of pain and remorse.

He kisses her back and deepens the kiss.

“Why not?” She says in-between deep, passionate kisses.

“Because if you knew the truth, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from unintentionally bringing hell down on all of us.”

“I don’t understand.” She whispers against his lips.

“I can’t tell you the truth because I wouldn’t be able to protect you, and I can’t let anything happen to you. It would destroy me, Lizzie. I'm too selfish to lose you.”

He pulls her bottom lip into his mouth. He flips them over so that she’s on top of him.

And my god, she’s beautiful as she runs her hands down his chest and stares down at him.

“Fuck you.” She says, this time with a little sadness to her voice.

She wants to stay here in this moment forever.

“Lizzie,” he whispers as he brings his hand up to cup her cheek and guide her face towards him.

“Fuck you for making me still want you, despite everything you’ve done…”

She presses her lips against his as his thumb idly caresses her check.

“Everything you’ve just said…”

His eyes close as she whispers against his lips.

“For killing my mother.” She whispers against his lips.

The sadness in her voice absolutely breaks him.

“The woman I killed….” He brushes his lips against hers softly. “Wasn’t Katerina.” His whisper is barely audible against her lips.

His hands trail up and down her sides. He tries to deepen the kiss, but Liz’s entire body tenses up and he realizes exactly what he’s done.

She pulls away in a fervor.

“Red.” She gasps.

He can see the realization. The panic. The desperate need inside her already starting to build.

“Elizabeth, no.” His words are stern.

“She’s alive, isn’t she?” Liz gulps.

She feels like all the air is rapidly being sucked from the room.

“Stop.”

“You found somebody to play the part of Katarina. Made the world believe that woman was Katarina. Made me believe.”

His jaw twitches.

“Elizabeth, you don’t know the terror you’ll rain down, the lives you will destroy. Let. It. Go.”

“You know where she is.”

It’s not a question. It’s more of an accusation.

“This isn’t me trying to avoid uncomfortable truths or manipulate you. I’m serious, you cannot go down this road.”

“I’ve wondered where she was my entire life. I’ve been desperate for answers. You've watched me chase down leads on my mother for years, and this whole time you’ve known.”

Hot tears stream down her face and onto his chest.

“Why does she have to hide from me? I’m her daughter.”

[angeli-marco-writes]

Elizbeth Debicki - Reunion Revenge

A/N - I love Elizabeth with everything I am, I'm sure I've said this before. I don't know why there aren't more fics about her. As always, I do not know Elizabeth, nor do I claim to: this is a work of fiction and wholly my own. I mean no disrespect to any of the careers mentioned at some point in this, just bear with. This is a set at a high school reunion, but I went to a private secondary school in England, so my experience is obviously not everyone else's. Reader has a twin brother, have fun with that. I also based this on a Tumblr post I saw, and thought that would be a swell concept to work into a Liz piece of writing: ‘never understood the whole showing up at your high school reunion revenge fantasy cause, like, really? high school?? I don’t want anyone from that time in my life to have any idea where I am or what I’m doing. do not perceive me I am dead to you and you are dead to me.' 8k.

Warnings - a little angsty, mentions of bullying, smoking, mentions of homophobia and slurs, wlw explicit smut, fingering, sex toys (strap-on), bathroom wall sex in a semi-public place, the whole shebang (literally). 18+

Summary - At first, when your brother roped you into attending your high school reunion with your wife, you hated the idea. Now, all eyes are on you, all the focus on your career, and maybe this is the revenge you always needed, of course aided by Liz's quick thinking and hidden surprises.

AT THIS CURRENT POINT IN TIME, you would more than happily murder your brother for roping you into this. And for convincing Liz to come along, which is somehow worse than your own enforced attendance, as though your presence will make any difference to the people who made the seven ‘best’ years of your life a pure living hell.

Your brother did have your back through it all, and considering that he was supposed to be the best one to succeed, he needs you there for some moral support after his career took an unfortunate nosedive that everyone is undoubtedly going to be gawking over.

You never understood the whole ‘showing up at your secondary school reunion revenge fantasy,’ but that’s mostly just because they don’t deserve to know who you are anymore. They broke you continually, and you’re past it now: the only thing that could take you back to that mindset is being back in that great hall with the gossiping busybodies. It’s not your fault that you were a closeted gay for so many years. Well, that’s another cause of concern. Notorious homophobes, and you’re bringing your wife.

“Come on, honey, we have to go inside.” Liz tells you, her long fingers curling around yours affectionately.

She has a point. You’ve been in the car park for ten minutes now, your knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. Her continual lavishes of kisses to your neck seem to be the only redeeming factor of your procrastination.

“Hmm, kiss me first.” you say.

She doesn’t disappoint, curling your hair behind your ear—wearing special diamond earrings she got you on your second anniversary—and catches your chin tenderly between her polished forefinger and thumb, tilting your face up to meet hers, her lips slanting over yours, melding together perfectly.

She’s the only good thing about this situation, about any situation: the only reason your brother was able to bribe you to come. Your main qualm about today is that you don’t want anyone from that period of your life to have any idea where you are or what you’re doing. You’ve been dead to them for years, and they to you. You don’t want them to perceive you whatsoever. But maybe, with Elizabeth on your arm and a brilliant career under your belt—everything you ever wanted—you can reap revenge. No one is in touch with you, so your arrival will be such a surprise, not that you exactly care about that, having blocked out and repressed a whole lot of that time period. You wouldn’t be able to even do this without Elizabeth, though.

“Liz,” you moan when she nibbles on your lower lip in that signature way she does. “We can stay here, we don’t have to go in.”

You shift your hand over the centre console to rub over her clothed thigh, your grip more than a little suggestive, prying further up…

“No baby,” she coos, “later, I promise. We’ll be late.”

You grumble, but only momentarily. She has a point, and a thing about being on time to everything. So you load out of the car, Liz coming around to the drivers side where she offers you her hand. She’s more chivalrous than any guy you ever pretended to date, an absolute gem of a person. You don’t even get jittery on the short walk inside, not with her thumb caressing your hand, your legs brushing together.

You can’t say you’re surprised when, at first, no one even turns to look at you, though relief floods your system, Liz bending down to kiss your forehead in a conciliatory manner.

“Oh my God, y/n, I’ve been here twenty minutes! Why didn’t you pick up?”

“I was busy,” you say to your overzealous brother who is suddenly hounding you, attaching to your side.

He bristles, visibly shaking off his discomfort, before he’s linking his arm through yours and is tugging you along, out from beneath the wooden balcony, tugging you away from the shadows.

The hall is the exact same as it was both when you came and left the school, oak panelling everywhere, great glass windows stretching to the ceiling with sills too high for anyone to climb onto, a stained glass shrine above the stage. Put-me-up tables are littered around, sheathed with white cloths and ribbons with your school emblem on them, decorated with drink dispensers, mugs, wine glasses and cheap biscuits. The whole… scene brings back that awful sense of dread you got when forced to sit here, in tacky red woollen chairs, frayed and bobbled, that itched your legs, every Monday and Friday for assembly. It’s a beautiful room, truly, with a reinforced floor beneath the original boards, slightly splintering beneath your low heels, and you know every nook and cranny, every escape route, but the bad memories tarnish the space.

Liz, darling as she is, senses your discomfort, and creates small talk with your brother as you’re steered between groups of people you scarcely recognise until you reach the apex of the room, where his old friends stand, hunched over in ill-fitting suits, brooding over their brandy, no doubt complaining about their dead end jobs and lack of girlfriends.

“Hey buddy…” one of them says, trailing off once he hears a woman's voice, his eyes darting up—first to Elizabeth, then down to you. “Your sister and your girlfriend? Dude, she’s hot.”

“Isn’t she just?” Liz teases, a malicious smirk creeping onto her lips.

You haven’t even noticed, but some subconscious part of you has tucked your joined hands behind you, covered by Liz’s long, flowing dress.

“How you doing, wait, I know, don’t tell me…”

“y/n.” you snap. “Fine, thanks.”

“Well that’s good, good, isn’t it? I was just gonna call you mini y/l/n—”

“Don’t, that isn’t my name anymore.”

His eyes dart down to your left hand not held by Elizabeth’s slender fingers, instantly noting the glistening silver princess-cut ring nestled above a platinum wedding band.

“Married? Nice. No wonder the guy didn’t come,” another one chimes. You’re not entirely sure what he means, though it’s undoubtedly a dig at the fact Elizabeth is far hotter than you are.

Your brother is slowly growing angrier and angrier, the cords of thick muscle in his shoulders tensing, his nostrils flaring, his thinned eyes conversing with Elizabeth’s blues over the top of your ducked head.

“Yes, well,” you play along, and desperately look to your brother to continue the conversation.

“What are you all doing for work now?”

Everyone gives a boring answer: salesman, accountant, finishing up law school, working in an office, with one trainee chef in the mix. These men have all just done what the school or their parents expected and wanted them to do, no one has any ambition. No wonder you were always the odd one out.

“What about you?” the chef asks your brother.

“Oh, I’m on a sabbatical at the moment,” he replies sheepishly, eyes suddenly training on the floor before turning quickly, fixing on you. “My sister’s done really well for herself.”

Their surprise is palpable, seeping off them, dripping onto the floor via the loose threads of their cheap blazers.

“Yeah, I’m a translator for political and legal proceedings, you know, with cabinet ministers from all over the world, those who speak the languages I do, at least.” you answer pridefully. Your talents always were overlooked when you were at school, apart from by one special teacher, whom you haven’t actually seen yet.

“She’s marvellous, really,” Liz says, and you can’t help but feel a hint of guilt from neglecting her for so long, so you squeeze her hand a little tighter, and rub your thumb over her wedding ring. “I’m gonna get us some drinks, babe. What do you want?”

“Red wine would be lovely. Unless you want me to drive home?”

She pecks your lips, “Of course not, enjoy yourself. You want anything, mate?” she turns to your brother.

“I’m good, thanks.” He mock-salutes.

“Don’t be long,” you warn her, swinging your hands out from their cover with a sudden flush of courage, and detaching them.

She looks down at you curiously, but her smile quirks into a smirk the second you pinch her hip and lean up on your tiptoes, capturing her pretty pink lips with yours, swallowing the small surprised gasp that escapes her. You can feel eyes on you all over the room, the situation genuinely feeling as though everyone besides your brother is staring upon you with disgust as her lithe arms wrap around your body, her one hand straying lower than you were prepared for, arching into her chest as she nibbles your lip again, your one hand cupping her flushing cheek.

A moment later, she’s releasing her hold and strutting away, all eyes then glued to the sensual sway of her hips, her long legs carrying her across the room faster than they thought possible. Then again, being 6-foot-3 as a beautiful woman is quite the surprise to people, they all expect her to be garish, uncoordinated, and though she’s clumsy at times, she’s certainly better at general levels of human functionality than you are.

“Dude, stop staring at my wife’s ass.” you hiss to the first man. If only they were worth your bother or time, you might have remembered their dreary names.

He splutters for a moment, bringing a ring-less left hand up to loosen his lilac tie. “Wife? What the fuck? How are you married to a woman before we are!”

What a mystery.

“You gay or something?” the trainee lawyer chimes in again.

“You got a problem with that?” your brother accuses, puffing up his chest pompously.

“Well, no… just surprised.”

“Astonished.” another pipes up.

“Isn’t that a big word.”

You showed the tell tale signs of being a lesbian for years, the popular girls all pretended you were preying on them in the changing room, calling you a d*ke for years until you reached the point of just changing in the bathroom to stop yourself from snapping at them. They must’ve always had a hunch, and why ever they thought Liz was your brother's girlfriend is beyond you. Men truly are more trouble than they’re worth.

“Yes, I’m gay. Yes, Elizabeth is my wife. I didn’t realise this would be earth shattering information.” You cast your eyes up to the ceiling, erected like a great old Church steeple, and shutter them for a moment, gathering your bearings. “I’m going to find Liz, little man. Told you I shouldn't have come.”

“Don’t call me little man!”

“I’m ten minutes older than you, I’ll call you what I like.” you tease, sticking your tongue out childishly, receiving a sarcastic sneer from your brother. Right now, all you want is Liz. “I wish I could say it was nice to see you all again, but then we’d all be liars. Goodbye.”

They gawk in a greatly uncouth and infantile manner as you stride away, pep in your step as you approach your stunning wife, wrapping your arm around her stomach as she waits for her tea—English Breakfast, naturally—to cool down.

“Hey beautiful,” you greet.

“Hey, you. What happened?” she asks, instantly noting the sallow bags that have swiftly formed beneath your eyes.

“They were being arseholes, c’mon, let’s just stand in the corner until it’s socially acceptable to leave this hellhole.”

“We can go now if you’re uncomfortable, baby.”

Ever the forward, sympathetically thinking wife.

“No, no. I came here, I’d better make it worth my while.”

She tangles her fingers with yours, “Okay darling. Say the word, we leave.”

There aren’t words for how safe you feel thanks to Elizabeth, even just with this fractional amount of contact from her. She’s the answer to all your prayers and more, the thing in life you'll never deserve. Her love for you is endless, her affections infinite, and every day, you fall more and more in love with her, especially when she’s as kind as she is now.

It barely takes five minutes, the two of you hugging, kissing, leaning against a broad oak pillar, half shadowed, for someone to approach. One of the girls you despised, costume jewellery on her wrists, a self aggrandised smirk painted onto her fake lips. Martha? Mabel? Maddie?

“I heard you were here,” she starts, placing her tackily manicured hand onto her hip, “it’s so good to see you! How are you?”

“Great, thanks.” you say blandly, keeping your attention on Elizabeth’s hand entwined with yours.

“This is your… friend? Why did you bring a friend to this?”

She laughs mirthlessly, such a fake sound—like this cow's boobs—it makes your primal instincts flare. Elizabeth holds you impossibly closer, her arm around your waist tightening as you seek solace in her.

“y/n and I are married, thank you. I don’t appreciate the homophobic, disrespectful insinuations.”

She stifles another laugh, “You’re punching above your weight a bit aren’t you, y/n.”

“Don’t rise to it,” Liz headily murmurs in your ear, sending pleasant, calming vibrations throughout your whole body.

You gulp down as much air as you can, curling tighter into Liz, before saying what you thought all those years ago, “I’d rather be ‘punching’ and married to a woman I love rather than be a Goddamn trophy wife going nowhere, leeching off daddy’s money. People like you will never change. I’m happy, and I have a good feeling that’s more than the likes of you and your sad old minions can say.”

“Sweetheart, come on.” Liz whispers, and her hold on you increases until it begins to pinch, not that you mind, and then she’s thankfully tugging you away.

You barely make it out the door, Liz leaning down to kiss you heartily, passionately, before people are clamouring over you, what’s-her-faces friends, people you used to be in fair acquaintance with, all speaking together, their voices overlapping in what you can only believe to be expressions of acceptance.

“Um, thank you, I’ll just be back in a moment.” you say to those who bother to listen. Next thing, you’re darting out the way you came, tugging Liz down the great stone steps in front of the behemoth building, and then are leaning against the old wall, almost crumbling with rubble on the exterior at least, not as well preserved as the inside.

She joins you not a moment later, ferreting around the pockets in her skirt for the spare cigarette and lighter she slipped in earlier. Liz doesn’t condone your smoking in any way whatsoever, and in fact she’s the main reason that you quit, but she knows that when your anxiety is high during times like these, one can’t hurt. She always comes prepared.

She is definitely the most consistent, reliable thing in your life by a long shot. Naturally, you two have your fair share of ups and downs, and on the occasion you get your periods at the same time, you’re a complete dichotomy of furious fights and condoling cuddles, while the rest of the time you find yourselves in sheer throes of passion. You may be a dependable couple bound to stay together forever, but that doesn’t mean that the flame of lust once born there has even momentarily flickered: it’s why you work so well. Men are awful in bed, from both of your experiences. Only a woman truly knows how to please another woman. And in the many ways that Liz is a home-body and sticks to the safe side of things, sex is not one of those areas, and you frequently wind up in another one of her barmy—though blissfully pleasurable—experiments. Her daring never goes amiss, and you can’t help but pray that she has something up her sleeve (besides the cigarette) to dull the ache of the day, and also the growing desire pooling between your legs upon seeing have such a naturally demanding power, and looking so Goddamn stunning in her maxi dress. And the lip nibble, God—

“Before you ask, I’m not shagging you out here.” she says, lighting your cigarette with steady hands.

You inhale the smoke, allowing it to form dark halos around your head once you puff it out through pursed lips, hoping it obscures your sheepish smile and averted eyes from Liz’s view.

“I wasn't thinking about that.”

“Yes you were. You forget how well I know you.”

You shoot her a sardonic smile and take another deep drag, the bitter taste pouring into your senses, filling your lungs, calming your mind before you let it go with one long, shaky breath. The smoke has a way of revealing the air, making an artistry of its swirls and flow, something you’ve always been able to appreciate. Ever the wise one, Liz just sees the poison it’s creating within your body, and will do anything to make you stop.

The sick, intrusive thought that you might be disappointing her by this simple act alone rises a cough to your throat with the next puff, but in reality she looks so nonchalant, her eyes closed, a simple smile playing on her perfect lips as she revels in the moment, in your presence, her pinky finger looped just over yours against the crumbling brick wall. Nonetheless, the uneasiness is enough for you to stub the cigarette out under your shoe before it’s even half-way smoked.

“Baby, you okay?” she asks sympathetically, turning to face you so that her shoulder is pressed to the wall, her spare arm flying around to brush against your upper arm, thumb caressing the flesh there through your clothes.

“Yeah, course. Can we stay out here a bit, though?”

You expect her to wholeheartedly agree, because you could tell by the subtle sensing of her limber body and the sudden snap attitude she had that she was just as uncomfortable in there as you were, perhaps more so. Her reflexes may as well be yours with how used you are to them. That’s exactly how you know that she’s going to refuse your request by the almost imperceptible crest of her nails into your supple skin.

“Your brother texted, he asked you to come back in: people won’t stop badgering him about you.” She pauses, but upon hearing you huff, hurriedly leaps back in. “I mean of course we don’t have to if you’re not comfortable, this is about you, not your brother…”

But it is about your brother. You agreed to come here today to be of help to him. And besides, Elizabeth has almost as much loyalty to your brother as she does to you, the two of them having been friends before he introduced you to her. That certainly didn’t have the outcome he was expecting, but you’ve all remained close nonetheless. Mentally, you give yourself a shakedown. How could you be so selfish? Today isn’t about you, not really. Sure you’d like to make peace with your past and your old tormentors one last time before leaving and never seeing them again, but the main reason is support.

“No, you’re right,” you say after a long moment of lamentation.

“That’s a first,” Liz snorts.

You smack her playfully, “Watch it, you.”

“Hey, who’s the pillow princess around here?”

Your cheeks instantly flush. “That was one time.”

“More like five,” she umms and ahhs, but grasps your hand a little tighter regardless.

It’s a fair comment on her part: Liz does wield the majority of the power in the relationship, and is definitely more of a top that you are, but you ensure that you pleasure her just as much as she does you, it’s only fair. Apart from those few times you decided to try something new… you got tired of that pretty quickly, though, since you couldn’t go too long without tasting her while you were in bed. No matter how many times you’ve had sex, no matter how many mind-blowing orgasms you receive, your desire for her is never quite quelled. Frankly, you hope it never is.

“Stop thinking about fucking me, babe,” she scolds, and pulls you up fully standing from your temporary reprieve against the wall. “Later, I promise. Not here.”

Embarrassment heats your cheeks at the fact she so easily deciphers your filthy thoughts, but then again, she always has. She leads you back inside, and all but hands you over to your brother, practically jumping with impatience at the door to the hall.

“Thank God you’re b—” he cuts himself off, moving closer to you, imperiously sniffing your clothes. “Did you smoke again?” You nod. “Fucking hell, well, there’s another conversation topic, we’ll talk about this later. Can you believe this lot didn’t know you were gay? What morons…”

“Hey, I’m not that obviously gay, am I?”

The dead silence that envelops you gives you the answer you weren’t too keen on receiving in the first place.

“But!” Liz helpfully adds in her most cheery tone. “If you hadn’t been so obviously gay, I probably never would’ve asked you out.”

She beams even as you roll our eyes, “So endearing, babe.”

“Hurry up, this lot are arseholes.”

“I know.” you deadpan. He sends you a snarky smile.

Following him through the small clans of people meandering and congregating amongst themselves, all with some sort of beverage in their hands, you feel your hand grow clammy in Liz’s. Your mind doesn’t get the chance to run away with itself or whirr on for too long, though, before you’re pulled into a group of people—all three of you—and are all welcomed with enthused hugs and professions of well wishes.

“Oh how are you? You look so well, I hope you’ve been doing good!”

Well, you think, if they cared enough they’d have contacted you. Half of them are your brothers Facebook friends and he’s often posting pictures of you hanging out, or childhood throwbacks, and tagging you in them in plain view. Thankfully, your page is private, and Elizabeth doesn’t even have social media. She’s smart.

You engage in conversation—well, they do, you just listen and hum when you’re supposed to, making surprised faces at the right parts—about one classmate who couldn’t be here because she married a mobster and isn’t allowed to discuss her lifestyle. She isn't. She got pregnant straight out of school and is going through her second divorce: your brother saw her recently. Who are you to deny them gossip when you really couldn’t care less?

In minutes they seem to have exhausted all possible fascinating subject matters, or at least make it appear that way as they turn all eyes on you.

“So, y/n, we hear you have a girlfriend!”

Not again.

“Wife; this is Liz.”

“How are you.” she says, more by way of greeting than having any regard for them.

“Oh my God,” one woman clamours, “are you Australian? My boyfriend is Australian! Maybe you know him?”

Liz’s face breaks into a wide smile, the first one of the event. Who cares that it’s at the expense of another person's intelligence, or lack thereof? You and your brother struggle to stifle your own laughter as you loll your head against his broad shoulder, too.

“Australia is more than seven and a half million square kilometres. In context, the UK is only two-forty-two thousand. We have a population of 25 million. I’d be more likely to meet the queen and the president.” she quips. Ever the fount of useless knowledge; as are you both.

“Oh,” says the woman, casting a sheepish gaze away.

“But, um, yeah, I am Australian.”

“You’re tall,” another blatantly observes, “you look Dutch.”

“Polish-Irish. Not far off.” she says again, fixing a smile of nonchalance.

People turn to you for something to say. You have nothing: nothing to say to these awful sycophants, so you’re half relieved and half angered further when your name is called from somewhere behind you.

“y/n y/l/n!”

Great, another bellend. Star of the football team. You settle yourself after a sudden wave of dizziness from spinning on your heel to see just who was calling you, and you’re not particularly surprised, but not glad either, when he’s excited to join the dull circle.

“Actually,” you correct, “it’s y/n Debicki.”

Silence cools around the circle. What, have these people been living under rocks for the past God knows how many years?

“Oh, why?” he asks.

“I got married and took my wife’s name.” you grit out just barely, balancing from foot to foot, the wooden floor creaking around you. Some more wine would be really good right about now, but instead you just settle for an intoxicating peck from Liz’s lips, the chiffon of her skirt shifting again to reveal your held hands and glistening wedding rings.

“Oh!”

The silence is agony. Why can’t the ground just swallow you up already? Your brother's getting angry, his fist clenching, picking at his nails, while everyone else in the group is exchanging anxious eye contact. Liz and her insanely long legs could probably give you a leg-up to one of the immensely tall windows as a quicker, though slightly more problematic escape route…

“By the way, that’s totally fine.”

“Yeah,” someone adds, you can’t be bothered to look who. “We totally accept it.”

“It’s like you’re not even gay, but straight, and normal. N—not that being gay isn’t normal, just that we don’t see you any differently.”

“You’re the same y/n you always were.” one smiles at last.

Your brother is going to lose it in three… two… one…

“Oh yeah? The y/n that you all relentlessly picked on and victimised for years? The same y/n who was forced to hide her identity and everything she wanted to be for years just because you back-thinking bastards didn’t want a lesbian in the class?” he shouts, flailing his arms madly about, hissing one of the broad, tree trunk pillars in the process. He doesn’t flinch. Turning to you, he starts in a softer voice, “I never should’ve asked you to come here, I’m so sorry y/n, I was so selfish to bring you back to this hellhole. It’s no wonder you didn’t want to come with these dipshits tossing around! And Liz, you don’t deserve this either. Please, do us all a favour, and take y/n home, never bringing her back here. You were right all these years, sweet, it’s the place nightmares are born. And you scummy lot should all be ashamed of yourselves!”

His breath is ragged once he’s done with his rant, his forehead glistening with sweat, his knuckles white with tension.

“Liz, could you get him some water, please?” you whisper into her ear.

She nods affirmatively, and breaks from your grasp, steering your hunched, tense, seething brother in the direction of the drinks table.

“Thanks, I guess,” you begin, kicking your heels into the splintering oak floor, your wine long forgotten, “like, for the acceptance and stuff. But I’ve always been this way, he’s right. It’s not some earth shattering revelation, I was just too shy to come out because you all tossed slurs around like it was okay.” You take a deep breath, and in that time, Liz has returned and stuck herself to your side, your brother happily alone in the corner with a cold glass of water as you cast a glance over your shoulder. You comb your fingers through Elizabeth’s coiffed blonde hair to relieve some anxiety, and are further reassured when she presses her lips to your earlobe, glistening with the diamonds she gifted you. “Besides, this shouldn’t be a thing you have to zealously profess to accept, it should be just as normal as one of you walking in with your heterosexual partner.” As some of them have done, and no one’s batted an eyelid.

A din of agreement sounds out from them, but you know they’re all more than a little meek after being scolded like schoolchildren by your big scary brother. He’s a teddy bear, really, but when he flips, he flips.

When you arise no cohesive response from anyone, you rest your head on Liz’s shoulder, and ask, “Did you see that article on the BBC yesterday morning?”

You have no idea what article you’re on about, but one leaps in with something about climate change, and one about a rise in violent crime in the area. Thank God you don’t live there anymore.

“I forgot about that one!” you gasp with feigned surprise.

Liz looks down on you warmly, chuckling at the mischievous glint in your eye. She knows exactly what you’re up to. But after today, you can walk away from this place, despite the stunning old architecture of the gorgeous building, the beautiful panelling on the walls and the window you spent so many hours gazing at while daydreaming wistfully through assemblies and exams, never to return. Frankly, after this shit show, you’d have it no other way. The teachers will be arriving soon, and in the hopes you see your favourite old teacher, Mrs Alleman, you decide it can’t hurt just to stick around a little bit longer, even if you don’t listen to anyone's conversation. It’s not like they want to involve you.

*

Before you know it, ten dreary minutes have passed, and as each second slips by, you’re losing the will to live. Even these people are bored to death by the sound of their own voices, unsurprisingly. You’ve just busied yourself the whole time by playing with Liz’s long, slender fingers and her glistening silver ring. She’s becoming more and more antsy, though, so you’re unsurprised when she moves to stand away, speaking only when there’s a brief intermission of silence.

“I’m heading to the loo, honey. Which way is it?” she asks politely.

“Out the door we came, but on the other side of the corridor is a closed door, down that corridor it’s the fourth on the right, up a couple of stairs.”

Her eyes widen, “This place is a maze.”

“I know,” you chuckle, and lean up to peck her lips. “They’re the staff ones, down a cohorted route in a forbidden corridor so we wouldn’t use them.”

“You,” she shakes her head, bending down to kiss you again from her standing position, though she does practically double down, and has to press a hand to her chest to prevent her dress from falling, “are so randomly knowledgeable.” It’s really more of an awkward stowed away memory, but you take it anyway. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

As she draws away, she catches your lip in her teeth. Again. If it wouldn’t arouse suspicion, you’d be after her like a bullet, but, well… So you just sit there, counting the minutes, the seconds until she returns and you’re able to make a quick exit, barely making an agreeable sound or two when someone deigns to involve you in the deathly boring conversation they’re having about the FTSE or something, but she doesn’t return. It’s only after five minutes—you meticulously checked your watch—that you realise she’s probably gotten lost, your heart fluttering into your throat.

“I think Liz is lost, I’m gonna go find her,” you say, not that anyone exactly notes your absence or offers you as much as a nod, so you stand and stroll away, not caring about your knocked over glass as you stalk out of the great hall, breaking into a slight jog as soon as the doors are closed behind you.

You could swear you catch your brother winking across the room as they close, but you can’t be sure, not with how crazy you are after Liz did that thing she does every single time she instigates sex. You’ve been together for more than four marvellous years, and yet it still brings fire into your veins, butterflies into your stomach, and lust into your mind.

She’s not in the foyer, or down the ostentatious portrait corridor, so you burst into the pristine white and purple bathroom, only to find Liz leant against the wall, a slight bulge in her dress.

“God, I was wondering if you’d ever get the message, I’ve been waiting for ages.” she huffs, slamming her mouth onto yours impatiently.

You gasp, winding your arms around her neck, not complaining in the slightest when you hear the door lock and you’re lifted high against the wall. Your hand flies down on instinct, and you’re not disappointed when your hand wraps around something long, hard and thick.

The squeak of surprise that leaves your lips only spurs Liz on more. “You wore the strap.”

“I went and fetched it from the car, thought we could have some fun, make this worth your while.”

“I love you so much.” you breathe, no time for courtesy.

Crashing your lips down onto hers, you lick filthily into her mouth, your tongue skimming her teeth, but your control barely lasts a moment before she’s overpowering you, nipping at your lip as she busies herself otherwise with gaining access to your throbbing, drenched core.

“Liz…” you moan. When she skims her fingers over the lace edge of your panties.

“So wet already baby,” she taunts, her breath hot on your ear, “have I done all this? Such a dirty girl…”

Her voice holds a gravelly quality, down to lust you’d wager. Her accent becomes so much more pronounced during times of passion, too. Her voice alone sends another wave of wetness gushing through you, soaking Liz’s fingertips as she slides them under your panties and into your folds.

“Oh poor helpless baby,” she croons, biting down on your neck harshly. “I don’t even need to use lube today, do I?”

You can’t respond, can’t even try to. She’s so intoxicating you could cry. All that’d come out is senseless babble. You can barely muster a breath with her gaze of such intensity burning into your fucked-out face. In all fairness, she doesn’t usually have to, since she makes you gush with a single glance, but the sensual jibe does make you a little embarrassed.

You can’t think straight when she plunges a single, long digit deep within your velvety walls, stroking at a torturous pace.

“F— fuck, faster, please.” you stammer.

“Only because my baby asked so nicely.”

Her hand begins to move faster against you, the rustle of clothes nothing compared to the sounds of your wetness. She adds another digit daringly, and pumps within you faster, her technique impeccable. If she’s not careful, you’ll be falling apart around her fingers in little more than a moment. Over the years she’s learnt how to bring you to mind-shattering climax embarrassingly quickly.

“Lizzie…” you moan when she hits that special spongy spot that makes you see stars behind your eyes.

Quick thinking as ever, she clamps one elegant hand over your mouth, her pale fingers digging into your cheeks, the metal of her rings cool against your lips. You can’t help yourself, your tongue darting out to lick the band of her wedding ring, skilfully wrapping your wet muscle around her. She can never resist when you do that, and her own knees begin to buckle, but her pace speeds up.

“Baby, I’m close,” you hiss against her hand, words muffled.

Your shoulder presses painfully into a ridge of the wall, but you can’t care, not when her wrist is flicking so quickly, yet somehow each thrust is deeper and more pleasurable than the last, the pads of her fingers catching all the right places within our quivering walls, continually hitting that spot. The heel of her palm keeps hitting your clit with a voracious intensity, needing to bring you toppling over the edge.

You come unravelled with a cry of her name, your legs unable to even partially hold yourself up as she settles you down gently on the floor, forcing you to lean heavily against the countertop. Stars and fireworks erupt to create images of Liz behind your eyelids, in the front of your brain. And the noise you made… After that, you wouldn’t be surprised if everyone in the hall knows what you’re up to, and somehow, that only fuels your need for Liz further.

“How do you get hotter every time you do that?” she husks.

Purple glittery potpourri on the window-sill prickles at your upper arm as you shuffle backwards, reaching out to Elizabeth with grabby hands. Her petite chest heaves with heavy breaths, her hair sticking up a little in cute blonde spikes.

“You wanna sit, babe?” you ask breathlessly.

Your own vision is a bit blurred from riding on cloud nine just moments ago, your juices running down your legs, glistening in the harsh bathroom light.

“You’ve always got a seat with me.” You wink, and wet your lips with your tongue. “Come sit.”

She chuckles at you, instead moving to kneel between your open legs on the edge of the counter, hovering over you

“Wait until we get home,” she teases, pressing the cold rings on her hand to your inner thigh, “I don’t trust myself, I’ll never leave if I sit now.”

Her lips lace with yours filthily, and you find yourself unable to stop your legs reflexively bolting out to wrap around her hips again, hand coming up to cup her cheek and neck with a bruising hold. Her hips rock against yours, and with your core already opened and revealed to her, all it takes is a slight fidget and a particularly harsh rut of her pelvis, and the priapic extension of Elizabeth—attached, thankfully, by a harness—is buried to the hilt within you. Your gasp is silent, your mouth opening in an inaudible ‘o’, a soundless plea for more. She’s prepped you well as always, and sought to open you up fully, which means that only a moment later you’re tapping her shoulder to signal for her to move.

The bulbous tip of the toy gains your attention rather swiftly as it grazes that heartily stimulated spot that Liz was so focussed on just minutes earlier. Her hips move with such grace even in such an ungainly act, her years of dance training aiding her elegance. God, she’s just so perfect in every way.

“Fuck, baby, I think I’m close—” she murmurs in your ear.

She begins to suck hickeys into your jawline, rendering you utterly speechless at the onslaught of pleasure you’re receiving all at once. Your boobs are bouncing as she pounds into you harder on the counter, the base of the strap now hitting your clit.

“Me too,” you eventually garner to choke out.

Your own pleasure can wait, take a damn backseat, because sweat is beading on Liz’s forehead as she wrecks her knees to fuck you more furiously, delivering you all of the pleasure you could ever want. But Elizabeth? She deserves it far more than you do after everything she’s done for you today.

She bites her lip, probably to keep a moan down the same way you are by biting your tongue, and she proceeds to hook her willowy arms around the crooks of your knees, thus tugging your legs up onto her shoulder, allowing her to hit an even deeper angle than before.

You can’t help the obscene whimper that escapes you, shrill and so pleasured, “Baby, keep— ohmygod please!”

Your head falls back against the hard porcelain rim of the sink, knocking some sense into you. This is your chance, while her eyes are still closed and the veins and ridges of the fake plastic cock are driving deep inside you, squeezed by your clenching walls. Slipping your own arm down her body and between the two of you, you find your way beneath the strap and onto her throbbing pearl.

“Shit!” she squeaks upon the first spark of contact, her body temporarily seizing, but she falls back into her previous pace within moments.

You rub circles on her voraciously, suddenly darting up to capture her lips in a sloppy kiss as a cry threatens to spill from her lips. But then you feel it coming, and your entire body tenses in anticipation, your eyes flying wide open to watch heaven crash right before your eyes.

First, her shoulders tense, followed by her eyelashes fluttering against her sharp cheekbone without her even being aware, then her legs try to involuntarily clench around your hand, her clit throbbing with anticipation as you speed up your movements. Her knees go next, then her arms, and she’s unable to hold herself up, but her hips don’t stop once. That’s when it happens.

“y/n, y/n, y/n.” she repeats like it’s her prayer of salvation.

Every muscle in her body quivers, her lips parting, her nose scrunching. Her teeth then catch your lip in the kiss you’re mixed up in, and her hips still. It doesn’t matter, since you’ve reached your own climax just from watching her fall apart at your very own mercy, your own legs falling from her shoulders, open wide on the counter as you chant her name in as quiet a whisper as you can muster.

Heavy breathing resonates through the small room, the stifling air now reeking of sex.

“C’mere,” you coax.

The counter is cold beneath you, the sink uncomfortable as you lie down flat, but when Liz crawls feebly into your arms, it matters a whole lot less. The comfort she provides is, and always has been, incomparable. Ethereal is the only way to describe her this way, too, blonde hair ruffled as she curls into your side, burying her nose into your shoulder, her arm slung over your waist.

“Do you think you got your revenge, babe?” she asks in a quiet voice, husky, laced with sex.

“Definitely. There’s no way they didn’t hear that.”

“Probably more than what most of those has-beens have got in years.”

You meet her twinkling eyes, and dissolve into a fit of giggles together, gripping her even tighter. It always was a secret fantasy of yours to do something like this, but you never imagined you’d be here nearly a decade later, fucking your wife in the staff bathroom. That’s just… beyond, but so hot.

“Ready to blow this place?”

“More than,” you answer, “but safety first.”

She gazes up at you, pouts and grumbles, but slips off you and into the left hand stall anyway, while you take the right. Once she emerges, the strap is safely stowed away in a discreet bag—one you purchased specifically should a chance like this ever arise since you’re not fans of handbags—and she turns the tap on. You wash your hands in a contented silence, and fix each other's clothes and hair the same way, until you’re at least half way presentable (though still more than mildly dishevelled) in order to just escape to the car and then hope at long merciful last.

“Should we text your brother?”

“I’ll do it when we reach the car,” you tell her, taking her hand as you unfasten the lock and pelt out into the corridor. “Wait, one minute.”

She watches you peculiarly as you pull out perfume from your pocket, spritzing it around the room, before re-entering fully and cranking the window open. At least this way the scent of sex is partially masked.

“Ever the resourceful one,” she chuckles, following your lead down the corridor, her long legs bounding beside you.

Your giggles carry around the high ceilinged building, bumping and bouncing off every wall so it seems, and once you're out into the foyer, she ensures to kiss you loudly, bending down to meet your height, just to test if your kisses have the same effect.

You don’t get to test that, however, before an all too familiar voice snaps you out of your trance, and suddenly, you’re fifteen and being told off for late homework again.

“y/n!”

You scurry to hide Liz behind you, as if that’s of any use whatsoever, and almost melt into tears when you see Mrs Alleman.

“Oh dear, how good to see you.” she professes, and before you quite know what to do with yourself, she’s standing right in front of you, wearing the same stylishly sensible shoes she always did.

“And you, Miss.”

“Who’s this?”

Glee forces a wide smile onto your face, standing aside to allow Elizabeth’s full beauty to be appreciated.

“This is my wife, Elizabeth,” you say, the proudest thing you’ve said all evening. “This is Mrs Alleman, my language teacher. She taught me everything I know.”

“Oh stop it,” she plays coy, but is gasping and gawking joyously beneath it. “Mr Smith owes me a tenner now. I predicted you’d come here with a female partner of some sort, he said you’d just come as an out and proud lesbian but single.”

Your jaw drops, and you can see Elizabeth’s chest rattling a little with swallowed laughter.

“I’m sorry, what? You had a bet on me being gay?”

“Oh yes, it first started when you were in year eleven and so helplessly queer, we couldn’t help but keep placing bets on how long you’d stay in the closet.” She places a gentle hand on your upper arm, noting the evident flush about you, and turns towards Liz. “Anyway, hi Elizabeth. You treat our girl well, she was a great student.”

“Always, Ma’am.” Liz answers dutifully, squeezing your hand even tighter in a silent promise. “She’s the most wonderful thing to have ever happened to me, and I’m glad she had an influence like you among all that lot of bogans.”

Mrs Alleman is impressed, you can tell since she’s wearing that same delighted expression she did when you told her you got into your top choice university with the results you aimed for, thanks to her teaching. “Tall, out, and Aussie? She really does have it all. And as much as I’d like to argue, you’re totally right, that year was a damn nuisance.”

“Somehow, no one has matured since we left?” you comment with feigned shock.

“That doesn’t surprise me.” It didn’t surprise you either. They were a fat lot of use, the whole lot of them. At least you and your brother were able to do good on your promise to get away from them all. “What are you doing now?”

“Oh, I work in translation for the home office and cabinet ministers.” Though your statement doesn’t hold as much pride as the one about Elizabeth being your wife did.

Her eyes grow wide, “That’s brilliant! I know you always wanted to do something like that.”

“I did, and I actually enjoy it.”

Mrs Alleman’s face softens, “I hoped you would. But promise me you’ll never become a teacher.”

You loose a chuckle, saying, “Never,” before stilling to a beat of easy silence.

“I love those earrings, by the way.”

“Oh!” You twist them subconsciously. “Anniversary present.”

“Y’know, I’d love to stay and chat, but I have to get inside and make a speech,” she grumbles. “Drop me an email, I’d love to catch up and properly see how you’re doing. Bring this tall drink of water if you’d like,” she adds with a wink.

“I’d really like that Miss, thank you.” you say, flushing a little.

Mrs Alleman was always one for affection, so you’re not entirely surprised when she approaches you with wide arms, her court shoes muffled on the foyer carpet. You accept the hug, and you’re surprised when Liz does the same. You say your goodbyes, agree to meet again, and let Elizabeth lead you back to the car, your fingers woven together.

“Was that worth being dragged out of the house for?” Liz asks.

“Hmm, I’m not sure. Perhaps shoving that strap down my throat will make it a little more worthwhile,” you say with a smirk.

“I heard that!” Mrs Alleman shouts from the top of the stone steps, gazing at you disapprovingly despite the laughs tumbling from her.

You cling to Liz, pressing your lips into a thin line when you feel your phone buzz, your brother's name popping up on the screen.

‘Everyone knows what you were doing. Don’t come back.’

‘We weren’t planning on it,’ you type back. Not now you’ve reaped your revenge, at least. You shut your phone after adding to the message, ‘Drinks at ours tonight.’

These people from your past are insignificant, Liz is your future and your forever.

[alyblacklist]

So about that kiss...

I apologize for ignoring a whole bunch of asks this weekend, but I wanted to share my thoughts on that emotional, beautiful, bittersweet, angsty scene on my own terms and not in response to an ask. Because wow, it’s been a long time coming. And yes, it was worth the wait.

It is so typical of the plight of a Keenler shipper to have Ressler and Liz’s first kiss delayed 8 months by a pandemic, and then filmed only under COVID restrictions because what - we’ve only waited seven years, right? Patience is always required when it comes to Keenler and this time was (and is) no exception. 

Overall, I thought the scene was beautiful and that Megan and Diego did an incredible job conveying the message that the emotion between Ressler and Liz that led to the kiss was absolutely genuine despite Liz’s play at the end with the gun. (Something later confirmed by the show runners, but that wasn’t a confirmation I needed - I thought it was obvious from how they played the scene). Anyone who insists these two are nothing more than good friends is watching a different show than I am, for sure. I feel like this was a turning point for the writers to finally acknowledge that, and I can’t wait to see how it plays out over the rest of the season. This was the kind of moment that a lot of Keenler shippers wished for back in S3 between them before she went on the run and while I don’t think Liz “on the run” is going to last very long based on the promo pics for next week, her abandonment and betrayal of the Task Force may not be so easily resolved.  

Let’s start with the meeting. Liz texted him and asked to meet in person. Why? She could have talked to him on the phone and asked him for time. Instead, she chose to take the risk of an in-person meeting and trusted him enough that he would show up alone and without the cavalry in tow. And no, I don’t think it was for the purpose of seducing him or nabbing his gun - she had her own weapon when she was driving the transport van with Dom, she didn’t need his except to prevent him from following her. And I’m sorry, but I just have to shake my head at the idea I have seen floated by some that Liz was somehow emulating her mother in that moment as if the tale of a 15 year old forced to sleep with American soldiers somehow inspired this?  Please. I think Liz asked to meet with Ressler in person because she knew she had seriously betrayed his trust by lying to him and she knew she needed to see him in person to try to convey that. I think that’s evident in the early part of their conversation as she sees the hurt on his face and she tries to explain herself. 

I don’t think she headed into this meeting intending at all to kiss him. I loved how they built up the scene between them slowly, and I thought Megan and Diego played their characters’ emotions perfectly. In fact, it was Ressler who stepped closer to her first (and it looks like he took her arm or her hand?), pleading for her to come with him and telling her he’ll back her no matter what.

You could tell how much that meant to her, and I loved how her lip trembled as she admitted that while she still needs the favor, she also needs him to keep believing in her. Because that matters to Liz, and it always has.

In fact, her reaction reminded me of the moment in the SUV on the way to the courthouse in 3.09 (also a Cerone episode) when she reacted to him telling her that, for what it’s worth, he believes she was framed. Both times, she had tears in her eyes.

Except this time, he does too as they have that long pause before she finally leans in to kiss him.

And I loved how he gently snaked his arm around her waist to pull her closer to him during the kiss.

And afterwards, his first words are "I won’t give up on you.”  That’s it - that’s setting the stage for the rest of this season.  He meant it when he said “not on my watch” in Brothers. He’s not going to let her slip away permanently into the darkness. But at the same time, he reminds her that he still has to do his job, although you could see on his face how much that pained him. And he’s back to calling her Keen instead of Liz, despite the kiss, already putting some distance there.

And I think this is the moment where Liz decides to take the gun. Not when she first decided to kiss him, but when he reminds her that he can’t just let her go. Because she didn’t have to kiss him to get close enough to take his gun - and certainly not on the lips as she did.  Moreover, if the purpose of the kiss was purely to get the gun, she could have disarmed him mid-kiss instead of waiting. She took it only when she realized she had to in order to prevent him from coming after her - they’ve been down this road before. 

And she knows as she does so, that she has hugely broken his hard-earned trust once again as she slips away into the night. The regret is palpable on her face.

So - where do we go from here? I think the writers have set Ressler and Liz up for a lot more short term angst and eventually a beautiful reconciliation. It was so typical of The Blacklist for their first kiss to come at precisely the wrong moment, but that’s also why it happened because it finally got them to cross that line. I am curious to see if Red and Ressler work together to bring Liz back from the brink. Red knew in S3 that Ressler had feelings for Liz - I don’t think it’s going to take long for him to figure out the current lay of the land. And especially not if Dembe is in fact returning Ressler’s gun in 802. 

I’d love for Ressler for once to tell Liz how her betrayals have affected him, to really call her out and for Liz to feel what it’s like to not always have him at the ready. But I also look forward to seeing how they interact with each other now that they have both mutually acknowledged feelings that go beyond simple partnership and friendship. I have a feeling their next kiss - and there WILL be a next kiss someday - will be very different. 

And on that note, the logistics of how they performed the scene honestly did not bother me - mannequins for the close ups, and live photo doubles (or “stunt kissers” as Zee called them) for the distance shot - they did the best they could in the world what we live in right now and I thought Megan and Diego sold the scene beautifully with everything that came before and after.  Of course we’d all rather have seen Megan and Diego do the whole thing but none of that takes away from the fact that the *characters* of Liz and Ressler had a “real” kiss no matter how it was filmed, and that moment is canon. If COVID restrictions get lifted, they can go back to filming like usual. If they don’t, I’d much rather see the actors play it safe than put themselves at risk for a little extra fan service. And to those gleefully mocking the mannequin moments - all I can say is laugh away, because we both know that if it was a different ship, you’d be lighting off fireworks in celebration no matter how it was filmed.

I’m still pinching myself that we got canon Keenler in the very first episode of the season! Looking forward to more - much more - to come as it sounds like their story will be a big part of this whole season. I still believe the ultimate outcome will be a good one for them - they have endured so much and come so far. Thanks to those who made it this far.  

[nathanknowsitall]

Sweater Weather

Summary: Peter knows that you’re warm under the clothes you’re wearing, but you refuse to admit it. 

Notes: This is dedicated to insecure plus size people. We are beautiful and we deserve to take up space. Enjoy! <3

“You’ve got to be kidding me...”, Peter says under his breath as you step out of your apartment in a hoodie and jeans. 

“Are you ready to go?”, you say as you put your keys in your front pocket and your phone and money in your back pockets.

Peter, meanwhile, rolls his eyes at the irony of your question. It was literally going to be in the high eighties and sunny all day and yet you were wearing so many clothes.

“Y/N, we’re not leaving until you put on some appropriate clothes. Ones that are meant for the summer.”

“Peter, you’re being ridiculous, I’m fine. Now, let’s go”, you said as you started towards the stairs. 

You knew that, yeah, maybe you were the one being ridiculous, but wearing less clothes than the ones you were wearing, especially around Peter, was out of the question. 

It may sound ridiculous, but you thought that if you wore clothes that covered up your body, maybe people wouldn’t pay attention to how wide your hips were or how big your stomach was. Maybe if you hid it well enough, they’d forget how fat you were and let you be friends with them. 

And it seemed to work. Now you had MJ and Ned and Liz and Betty and most of the Academic Decathlon Team and Peter as friends. And they all seemed to forget that you were fat. Or at least they now knew you enough to forgive you for what you looked like. 

Sometimes, they even seemed like they would want to be more than friends. But maybe that was just Peter, actually.

When you realized that Peter wasn’t following you, you looked back at your apartment door, finding that he hadn’t moved an inch. 

“I’m not leaving until you change”, Peter declared. “You never complain about it, but I know that you have got to be uncomfortable wearing a hoodie when it’s so hot”, Peter said, as he crossed his arms, trying to look assertive. You rolled your eyes as you walked back towards your door. 

“Okay, fine. I’ll leave my hoodie”, you said as you unlocked your door. As you walked in, you motioned Peter to sit on your couch, “Sit, Mr. Meanie.”

“I’m not being mean, I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable”, Peter said, in a slightly irritating, slightly louder voice that was reminiscent of a parent or a teacher. You rolled your eyes as you entered your room, took off your jacket and changed your short-sleeved shirt into a long sleeved-one.

When you came back out into the living room, all you heard was a big sigh from Peter. 

“You are not wearing a long-sleeved shirt right now. I am not looking at you in a long-sleeved shirt right now, not when you said you’d wear something for the summer”, Peter said, half serious, half teasing.

“Peter, I don’t have anything short-sleeved right now, it’s laundry day for me”, you lied, but Peter immediately caught you.

“Your laundry day is on Wednesday, it’s Saturday. Why are you lying to me? What’s going on?”, Peter said, in a softer, more curious tone. You started biting your lip, trying to decide on what you could tell him.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice that you had slightly started to shake. Just a little bit, but it was enough for Peter’s senses to pick up on. He started walking towards you and held your hand. 

“Whatever is going on, we can talk about it. I promise. I didn’t mean to make you scared...I’m sorry. You can wear whatever you want. It’s just that you always wear sweaters and hoodies and things that make you hot and I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable during our day out”, Peter said, softly. 

His voice was so sweet and it made you so relaxed as you used your connected hands to lead him to your room. 

Peter’s eyes went wide when you both entered your room. It was a mess of clothes. You motioned Peter towards the only free spot on your bed, where he sat while you stood in front of him. 

“Peter, it’s just...I’m just that I’m...bigger than most people. Sometimes I have days where I feel comfortable and can wear things like this”, you said as you picked up a baby blue camisole that Peter had never seen before. “But sometimes I have days where this...”, you picked up a loose dark blue sweater that Peter had seen many times, “is the only thing I feel good wearing.” 

Peter knew that you were big, but hearing the way that you mentally battled yourself about your body hurt him. How could the prettiest girl he had ever seen feel this way about herself? Didn’t she know that everyone thought she was gorgeous? Didn’t she know that her body was just another thing he loved about her?

“I know that it seems really stupid to be so self-conscious that I literally would rather sweat than wear something comfortable, but I just...can’t. Even thinking about it is scary to me”, you admitted in a soft, quiet voice.

Peter looked at you fondly as he stood up and took several steps towards you, carefully opening his arms to hug you. As you hugged him back, you felt a sense of relief wash over you, tears falling freely onto Peter’s shoulder. 

You had always known that deep down Peter didn’t care about your weight, but having him hold you and reassure you of that fact felt freeing. 

When the tears stopped falling and you both let go, you looked up to find his eyes filled with warmth and determination. 

“I have an idea”, he said as he turned around and picked up the forgotten camisole you had just shown him. “Let’s have a fashion show starring the most beautiful girl in the world, Y/N Y/L/N!”. You laughed at your best friend’s antics.

“Peter, no! We have to go on our picnic!”, you giggled as you tried to drag the sweetest boy in the world out of your room.

“But I wanna see you in this”, Peter said as he held up the camisole again, full pout and puppy dog eyes prominent. You felt your heart do a little flip seeing your crush ask for you to model for him. 

You sighed, “I will model for you, but only if you promise to not make fun of how gross I look in this, okay?”. 

Peter got so excited, his pout immediately turning into a big toothy grin as he ushered you into the bathroom and handed you the tank top. 

You rolled your eyes as you took off your long-sleeve shirt and replaced it with the tank top that molded to your stomach rolls and felt snug in the chest area. You felt absolutely ridiculous, but you kind of hoped Peter would get point once he saw how it looked on you. 

As you walked out of the bathroom, Peter’s jaw dropped. He always thought that you were pretty, but seeing you wear something that showed way more of your skin than he was used to made him realize just how attractive you were.

“See Peter! I look ridiculous!”, you exclaimed as Peter shook his head rapidly, “I’m going to go change back into my shirt and then we can go to-”. Peter interrupted you by pulling hard on your arm and making you turn around to look at him. 

He couldn’t stop looking at your body as his eyes looked you up and down over and over again. You tried to cover yourself, both embarrassed by Peter’s attention, but also by the thought that he may be checking you out. 

“Peter, I gotta change...”, you said as you tried to dissolve the odd moment between you two. 

“Actually...can we stay here...and can we keep doing a fashion show? It’s already way too hot outside and this is so...umm...fun?”, Peter said as you almost rolled your eyes. 

What is he thinking?, you thought, as you directly faced him, while he continued to look at you.

“Peter...”, he looked into your eyes for the first time in a long time, “Why are you looking at me so much?”.

Peter’s face, unfortunately for him, was too expressive, as he struggled to apparently string a sentence together and blushed red. You squinted at him before deciding to do something brave: tease him.

“Do you see something you like Peter?”, you said as you spun around and tried to pose like a model.

You could feel Peter’s gaze intently on you, so you decided to go a bit further. 

You looked at him and then moved closer and closer to where he was sitting, standing basically right in front of his seated form.

“Is this okay, Peter?”, you asked, feeling your heart rate increase as you realized that you were actually, real life flirting with Peter.

He looked up at you, eyes seeming completely focused on you.

“Ye-Yeah. Umm...you can get closer-if-if you want...”, he responded, stuttering.

“Hmm...”, you said as you began to crawl into his lap, putting your arms on his shoulders. You don’t know where the confidence had come from, but it felt natural to do this with Peter.

Peter looked up at you as you looked down at him. He shifted suddenly, leaning forward as he brought his hands to your hips. Your noses were almost touching, but, more importantly, your lips almost were too.

“Peter...”, you whispered into his mouth. His eyelashes fluttered softly as his gaze fixed on your lips. Yours did the same. 

“Y/N...can I pretty please kiss you?”, he asked, seeming desperate. 

You nodded slightly, noses touching softly, before he leaned in and gave the most beautiful girl in the world a sweet kiss. And you gave the most handsome boy in the world one right back.

[meetmeatthecoda]

Now that I’ve had some time to cry & mourn & actually think about that horrendous excuse for television... I have... some thoughts.

Firstly, the pace of that episode was insane. I mean, the season itself felt like we were slowly & tortuously hacking our way through a tangled rain forest, trying desperately to see the forest for the trees, but instead stuck cutting vines & branches down one by one... until we got to that finale, which felt comparatively like finally cutting away all the dense foliage only to immediately fall off a fucking cliff. You could just tell they were using the least amount of dialogue they could to move through so many weird emotions at fucking breakneck speed. I mean there was... the brief aftermath in Latvia, the 4 second plane ride to re-introduce Red’s illness after how many eps, Liz’s 3 second long recuperation, the awkward attempt at humor with the helium followed by a crash landing into solemnity at Red’s talk with Cooper, the abrupt & unsatisfying discussion with Red & Liz where he makes his rEqUESt, all the different “heartfelt” one-on-ones with Liz’s people, the fucking forced af “romance” with K**nler, the shoe-horned “chance meeting” with Beth Ryker, the most Agnes has ever talked in the history of ever, the weirdly morbid & fucking heartbreaking walk in the park, the choppy restaurant scene, to the unmentionable... end event. It went all over the place, which is very unlike TBL imo, which usually seems to stick to a theme or emotional center for an entire episode, whether blacklister or mythology driven. I think it was painfully clear how poor their planning was (when they have literally no excuse bc they knew this was coming the whole season???) & just how much shit they were trying to squeeze into one episode.

Secondly - & this may seem obvious, but I think it’s worth talking about anyway - Liz should have gotten her answers. And I’m not just saying this as a Lizzington shipper (I mean, mostly I am, but there are other reasons also!) Primarily, I think bc... literally everyone expected them. Not just bc they were advertised (it’s certainly not the first time they’ve delighted in false advertising in promos when it comes to the all-important AnSwErS) but bc THEY MADE SURE EVERYONE KNEW BEFOREHAND THAT IT WAS MEGAN’S LAST EP. It might have been mildly acceptable to play coy for yet another season finale IF she was coming back in some capacity later to eventually wrap things up, but - given that they fucking slammed the door on that possibility - THEY SHOULD HAVE GIVEN US ANSWERS. I don’t think anyone considered the possibility that they would KILL her & NOT give us answers bc it makes no fucking sense. Additionally, Liz should have gotten her answers simply bc SHE!! DESERVED!! THEM!! They’re literally the thing she’s been fighting for for eight seasons & she fucking died without them? WTF??? But, most importantly to us Lizzington shippers, Liz not getting her answers ruined the park fantasy. I think we all imagined (BC IT WAS MEGAN’S LAST EP) that Red & Liz would finally talk & Red would give her the answers she wanted. I think we all expected from the (misleading) promo that he would make some sense out of the potentially jumbled memories/visions (?) from 8.21 &, most importantly, there would be SOME KIND OF EMOTIONAL TURNING POINT, SOME CATHARSIS, AN UNDERSTANDING & RENEWED LOVE BETWEEN THEM DRIVEN BY THE AFOREMENTIONED REVELATIONS (& LOVE OF WHATEVER KIND, MIND YOU, WE WEREN’T PICKY, JUST SOMETHING FOUNDED ON RECONCILIATION & PEACE.) But - bc they denied us that - Liz was still in the dark & waiting on answers for the entire ep, unable to forgive or reconnect with her true feelings for Red (whatever you believe them to be) & this made her reaction to Red’s rEqUeSt ring very hollow & detached, the whole park bench conversation stilted & awkward (on Liz’s end) & - THE WORST PART - it made the whole park fantasy feel FALSE. It cheapened it. Like she was just indulging him, letting him walk with her & play with Agnes & enjoy one more day of life before she indifferently killed him. The one thing we expected to get, should have gotten, & THOUGHT WE WOULD HAVE NO MATTER WHAT ELSE HAPPENED IN THE FINALE was ruined. With the assisted suicide talk beforehand, the almost begrudging acceptance from Liz, the obvious morbid mindset from Red, the song in the background, the context of it all. It put an awful spin we completely didn’t expect on what should have been our beautiful Lizzington park fantasy. And I think that may be the part that hurts the most - the fact that I can only look at gifs of that scene - bc the music & dialogue & context completely undermine what Liz’s fantasy should have been, that she got for just one afternoon, when she was supposed to be happy & at peace with Red & Agnes.

Thirdly, (anyone still there? lolz) the whole “plot” of this episode was fucking nonsensical. Chiefly - & many other people have pointed this out before now - Red would never ask Liz to kill him. I simply call bullshit. No matter how hard they tried to justify it (& boyyyyy, did they try) Red has never wanted Liz to be a killer, criminal, or have to live a life like him. He has canonically said as much. I could maybe buy the whole “taking over his empire” thing as the seasons progressed, but asking Liz to live with the guilt (however slight or delayed) of killing him, after everything they’ve been through together, after she told him she loves him (seasons ago, but the feelings are still there, albeit buried deep)? And thereby launching her (& by extension Agnes) directly into harm’s way as the “new” Concierge of Crime (?), without him there to guide her from the shadows? No way. Bullshit. Also - & @iwouldlovetoeatyourtoast mentioned this first, I believe - the whole idea of it was stupid anyway bc Liz has spent the entire season chasing him, has repeatedly gotten opportunities to take the big shot, & has always been unable to kill him. It wasn’t even an engaging tWiSt to throw in at the very end bc - even when she agreed to do it - we all knew it wouldn’t happen, also bc Megan was the one leaving & not James. So, it wasn’t a surprise when she broke down at the end & said she couldn’t, so wtf was the point?

Fourthly (almost to the end, god this feels good) & this was a huge tell imo - everyone was OOC. Now you might say that’s the bitterness talking & you might be right... but you fucking try & tell me that 1) Red all of a sudden decides he’s ready for death after how long of not accepting it or mentioning it & absolutely must be killed by Liz & no one else within the next 24-48 hours 2) Liz would willingly go along with that for even a second 3) Dembe wouldn’t try his damnedest to talk Red out of assisted suicide in general & especially coercing Liz into doing it 4) Ressler would be the one to fucking figure it out & hightail it out of bed AFTER BEING ON DEATH’S DOOR WITH A BUSTED LUNG & SEPSIS FFS 5) Wolf Man Van Dyke would even know where to find Liz on a random fucking street corner outside a random fucking restaurant 6) Red wouldn’t see him behind Liz taking aim 7) THERE WOULDN’T BE A DECLARATION OF FEELINGS/LOVE CONFESSION BETWEEN RED & LIZ IN THE 14 MILLION OBVIOUS PLACES THERE COULD HAVE BEEN *PRIMARILY AFTER SHE SAYS “I CAN’T DO IT, I DON’T WANT TO” I MEAN, HELLO????? WTF, WHY WASN’T THERE AN “BC I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU TOO, LIZZIE” LIKE HOW HARD WOULD THAT HAVE BEEN, IT WAS THE PERFECT PLACE, THE LAST CHANCE, & WE FUCKING DESERVED ITTTTTTTTTTT *ahem* & lastly, & most importantly, & I’m definitely going to cry typing this... 8) if you fucking try to tell me that Red would allow himself to be pulled away from Lizzie’s dead body for a second time by Dembe or anyone else (especially when it was only the stupid task force arriving???) without simply crossing the street to load his gun with trembling fingers, pull the trigger, & join her... you’re fucking crazy.

In conclusion, bc this has gone on long enough, this was just... a hasty, sloppy, rushed, unprepared, careless ending on all fronts, no matter how hard they tried to convince us it was totally-100%-on-purpose-of-course-why-do-you-ask? (And I’m not even touching on the Redarina bait bc fuck that shit.) Like, did anyone else feel like when Red was telling Dembe that he was sure & this was what he wanted & really he’s positive so please stop asking, and when he was explaining things to Liz in almost too much detail, and when he was telling Harold this was absolutely necessary... that it was really the writers trying to convince us? It just felt so sudden & forced & heavy-handed & absurdly preventable & at the same time ridiculously unstoppable... I mean, look, whatever drama clearly went on behind the scenes? I think we can all agree that they did a terrible, awful, shit-tastic job on all fronts. And it’s just such a shame that that’s how it ended 💔

[mercuryonparklane]

Disclaimer: this is all my opinion, based on the information that was able to be known both at the time Taylor would have been writing Red (so probably between 2010 and 2012) and what I have since learned. It’s mainly in good fun and not meant to be taken as any serious declaration or anything. The truth is that Taylor may not have dated any of the people fans/the media have linked her to or maybe she dated all of them or some of them, but we will likely never know all the details, so I’m just working off the information that is publicly available.

Here’s my current stance on the most likely (imo) Red muses for each song (and I kind of think a lot more of Taylor’s songs are fictional or fictionalized versions of the truth than she has tried to make it seem… also, there’s potential for these songs to be about more than one person/situation):

State of Grace: Liz

Red: Liz or Julianne

Treacherous: Liz or Julianne or Dianna or just being with a woman in general

I Knew You Were Trouble: Liz

All Too Well: Julianne or Liz

22: Dianna and friends

I Almost Do: Julianne or Liz

We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together: Julianne or Liz

Stay Stay Stay: purely fictional or Liz

The Last Time: Liz

Holy Ground: Liz

Sad Beautiful Tragic: Julianne or Liz

The Lucky One: herself and one or more former stars

Everything Has Changed: Liz or Dianna (sorry, I can’t ignore the green eyed Gemini reference written close to Liz’s birthday… and them hanging out in Nashville the day after Taylor returned from her little trip with Dianna and friends to see the Kennedys in July)

Starlight: only about the Kennedys and maybe partially about Julianne or Liz or Dianna

Begin Again: Dianna

The Moment I Knew: controversial opinion… purely fictional or her dad

Come Back... Be Here: Dianna

Girl at Home: purely fictional

Better Man: purely fictional

Nothing New (Featuring Phoebe Bridgers): herself/fame

Babe: purely fictional or Liz or Dianna

Here’s where I’m just gonna guess who they might be about based on song title and will re-evaluate come Friday (and again, they could be fictional/fictionalized):

Message in a Bottle: for some reason I think this could be about an old love, so I’m gonna say Julianne or Liz

I Bet You Think About Me (Featuring Chris Stapleton) : again, this one seems like it’s about an old love and probably the IAD muse, so Julianne or Liz

Forever Winter: Julianne or Liz

Run (Featuring Ed Sheeran): if it’s about past love, then Julianne or Liz and if it’s about a new love, then Dianna

The Very First Night: Julianne or Liz or Dianna

All Too Well (10 Minute Version): I’m sticking with Liz or Julianne… based on the original version and the fact that it was likely written early or mid 2010 (which might point to Julianne more than anything, tbh)… it will be interesting to see what new info might come up in this longer version (you know, the one that, according to the actual co-writer of the song, only existed in Taylor’s head, so……..)

[angelhummel]

Ok this might require some deeper thought. Top five scenes at the Lima Bean and top five scenes at Breadstix.

oooh good ask! thank you <3

Breadstix -

Kurt asking Blaine to prom. Kurt's general adorableness, the Pretty In Pink "What about prom, Blane?" reference, Blaine opening up about his past, Kurt telling Blaine he has a do over to stand up to bullies but also saying they don't have to go if Blaine doesn't want to, but Blaine agrees bc he knows Kurt wants to go and he wants to support him. Pure perfection

The Lonely Hearts Club dinner in Silly Love Songs. The fact that Kurt threw the party together to cheer Blaine up. Rachcedes being on a double date with Tike. Blaine shading Santana during the song and Santana looking at Rachel. Kurt going to hug Mercedes and Rachel in their booth and almost falling on them. Everyone just being cute and having a good time with their friends <3

When Kurt and Blaine go on the double not-a-date with Jan and Liz. Just the fact that they get to meet some older queer people and bond with them and learn their history and end up getting to witness a huge milestone in their lives. And hearing first hand that you can face bumps in the road but still make it work if you try. Of course that applies to Klaine and it's nice to see the parallel

The whole V-Day party in Heart counts as one scene too, right?? The songs are great, pink and red and hearts everywhere, Quinn is wearing a lesbian pride dress, Blaine surprises Kurt and grabs his tie, Sugar is really funny, Brittany's wearing a fish dress. It's a fun time

Klainecedes in The Substitute. Like yes it's rude for Mercedes to insist she come along then get bored when Kurt wants to talk about gay things with the first gay person he's ever met. But also it's really funny and "oh look i open my mouth and a little purse falls out" is fucking hilarious

The Lima Bean -

Klaine's first "I love you" exchange. Are you surprised?? Kurt is gushing about his trip to NY but y'know it's just another conversation but that doesn't matter to Blaine bc he's so damn smitten. He just can't help but blurt it out bc he knows he feels it and there's no point in hiding. And of course Kurt returns the sentiment. And "When you think about it, Kurt Hummel has had a pretty good year" ugh

Cheating by picking a 2-in-1 but the Klaine scenes in 2x12. First Blaine being all lovey dovey and his usual romantic self and knowing Kurt's coffee order. Then later when he's bitter, and Kurt admits he thought Blaine wanted to serenade HIM, then the When Harry Met Sally talk, then Kurt buys Blaine's coffee <3 It's just pure adorable early Klaine fluff

Klaine Mikecedes double friend-date in Wonderful. Mercedes being beautiful and successful talking about her album, Mike being hilarious, Kurt being an emotional wreck but Blaine seeing it immediately even when no one else does. And then everyone holding hands and telling Kurt they're there for him. I adore it

Blaine and Kurt's little date in 3x01. From the playful banter and the partially improvised "I know what that does to you when I win" to Kurt saying that spending more time with Blaine is what will make his senior year magical. It's such a simple scene but it shows them being friends, and flirty, and romantic, and it's all things good about Klaine wrapped up in a neat little bundle

Kurt working there!! He made the cutest little barista ever. Our little working boy <3 Sadly he doesn't get much time with Blaine BUT Kitty is there being iconic. "My iced latte is too cold" "It's an iced latte" i love them

Wow did you expect me to pick anything besides Klaine?? I thought about it but sadly no other scene in these locations is as iconic as anything they did :/

Hey did you know there was only one song ever (partially) sung in The Lima Bean?? It's Too Late. Klaine owns that coffee shop <3