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[screampied]

‘ THINK I NEED SOMEONE OLDER ! ’

ᡴꪫ‎ synopsis. university sucks major ass. on the bright side, you’re on break—you decide to go pay your father a visit. this 'visit' ends up to you being introduced to his best friend, toji. who’s he? maybe your panties know the answer.

wc. 7.4k

warnings. fem! reader, dad's best friend! toji, age gap (reader is over twenty), praise, cunnilingús, squìrting, implied multiple órgasms, unprotected, degradation, size difference, impact play, poor dad is kinda clueless, almost caught, overstimulation.

dbf! masterlist

“who’s he?”

a simple question — yet the moment the words ran out your mouth, it felt as if all eyes were on you. in reality, it was though. the tall man who was quite a few staggering inches taller than your own father had such a gaze. he had hands buried into the depths of his pockets, shifting his weight as he stood still before burning a stare right into you. an intense stare, you could almost make out somewhat of an intriguing smirk. that sly smile with an everlasting scar running down the right side of his mouth.

“hey honey,” your father waves out with a brief gesture. he throws an arm around the buff man before giving him a rough pat on the back. “this is toji. met him ‘bout a year ago at one of those boat races. heh, news flash—he lost.”

“woah. no need to embarrass me, man,” toji murmurs in a raspy tone and by all means was his voice deep. laced in pure baritone, far deeper than your fathers. by a mile, to be specific. his voice has a jagged huskiness to it, insanely attractive. as he spoke, his eyes flickered towards you and he’d occasionally look away with that same chaffing sneer. “but anyway,” toji averts his eyes back towards you. his cologne was loud, you could smell it from miles away from you. he pauses for a few good seconds before uttering. “it’s nice to meet ya, sweetheart.”

you gulped, suddenly feeling small. you couldn’t pinpoint what it was about him — his demeanor, the way he carried himself, anything was. but it was something that had you a bit drawn in so to speak. “i um..”

“she’s not that much of a speaker,” your father chuckles, giving you a soft rub near your back. “poor brain’s probably all fried from those midterms. right honey?”

“you don’t say.” toji raises a brow, glancing away for a moment and a smile tugged right against his his dimples—and for a moment, he was suddenly intrigued by his best friend’s daughter.

that was the initial first reaction between the two of you. you ended up staying at your father’s house for the remaining duration of your visit.

nothing too much sparked between the two of you, of course there’d be subtle moments. real subtle moments—stupid things, like having him help you grab something from one of the top shelves.

of course he’d help, he was taller than you by many many inches. effortlessly towering over you. it’s the way he’d press up against you. it was quite hard to shut those thoughts of yours up. those lewd salacious thoughts that were forever kept into the very back of your brain, silently fantasizing about your father’s best friend.

apparently, he stayed for quite around the same time you did since he and your father would typically hang, do all sorts of men activities you never really cared about—golfing, shooting ranges, watching the most recent football games. that was the most annoying part, how they’d both obnoxiously yell at the screen whenever their favorite team was pathetically losing.

your room was directly upstairs, you heard everything. it was as if the walls were merely thin. in a way, they were. the constant repetitious hollering from the two men were so irksome. eyes merely rolled to the back of your head whilst you were trying to scroll on your phone in peace.

you never did understand why a dumb game of balls would drive men so crazy. nevertheless, you let off a tiny sigh before plopping right down in your bed. immensely, you stared off into space.

you had no idea why, but the minute your eyes linger into the white nearly peeled off drywall near the ceiling, you thought about him. toji.

stupid, maybe…

it’s been a few days and you hardly knew the guy. encounters between him were subtle and brief. he’d nod his head at you, barely acknowledging your existence and going straight back to some meaningless conversation with your father.

there was one day however, one day that had you hot all over. it was when you walked in on toji, he was using the spare shower that no one really uses, it’s reserved mostly for guests—perfect for him in this case.

you remember it like it was yesterday. since you were wide awake during this time for whatever reason, your dad sent you to go replace some towels from downstairs since he was doing laundry so you mindlessly make your way downstairs. the door was visibly cracked. sure, you probably should have knocked but who takes showers around three am?

apparently, this guy.

toji was literally just getting out the shower when you walked in. steam fogged throughout the entire space.

it was hot, stuffy and dampened with mist clinging against the rectangular mirrors. smothered with fog, you practically end up bumping right into something hard.

to be specific, that something was toji’s broad chest. maybe you were a bit delusional but you could have sworn, the moment you made contact with his bulky pecs, it moved upon impact.

“excuse you, sweetheart,” toji would scoff teasingly, his low voice was a bit more rougher since it was late at night. you were definitely speechless, barely able to process a single word from your mouth. thankfully a towel was wrapped around his slim torso—yet you started to wish maybe he didn’t have it protecting his lower half.

your eyes stuck to his chest the entire time, talk about embarrassing. immediately, your pretty dilated pupils ran down his chest, down his v-line, his perfectly structured build . . and then, his happy trail. he was well trimmed of the sort, practically. toji’s version of well trimmed was a bit hairy. regardless, it was still an attractive feature.

the more your eyes rove, the more you glance at his nearly perfectly sculptured structure. his chest was painted with a plethora of battle scars, now you were the one intrigued. you wanted to know more.

“you’re a little rude, huh,” and you abruptly snap from your thoughts. it was so brusque…

returning back to reality, out of that lewd trance you were so desperately trapped in—you blink twice, not even realizing how he was right up close to you. toji stares down at you before sneering. “it’s like three am. shouldn’t you be in bed?”

you shift your feet a bit, maintaining a little distance before trying to reply in the best nonchalant way possible. “uh no,” and then you utter awkwardly. “shouldn’t you be in bed? who randomly wakes up to take showers this late?”

“guys my age,” he jibes. “ya wouldn’t get it.”

you deadpan, fully aware it was a joke but you held everything in you to not have your eyes roll all the way back. “whatever,” and then you nearly forget what you were about to do. he watches you, you open near the lower cabinet and replace the clean towels. it grew profoundly quiet, a pin could drop. the moment you turned around, toji scoffs to himself. “did you need anything? something else?”

“ah. thank you, i’m fine, princess,” toji huffs with a sly grin. he reaches near the small wooden table to grab what seemed to be a half-used lotion bottle. however, you didn’t expect for him to completely change the topic, flipping your own words around with a blunt, “do you need something?”

“huh?”

“you heard me, girl.”

the banter…

he was definitely cocky, playful, literally any other synonym would fit.

you hated how he’d get you speechless everytime. you loathed how he was such an effect on you. with a brief gnaw on your bottom lip you narrow your eyes, mumbling out a, “stupid question.”

“i agree,” toji smirks. “but eh. y’er a smart girl. ‘m sure you can come up with a good comeback soon.”

he was so annoying, entirely so.

it’d be simple interactions like that between the two of you. much to your surprise though, nothing really else happened. toji would tease you a bit then pretend nothing happened, throw you a compliment or two and call it a day.

toji would often visit daily or twice a day, mainly to hang with your father. you could care less about what they did, but you were bored out of your mind from being in the house all day. you could go out, but it’s not like you had anyone to go with. everyone was either busy or … busy. besides, most of your friends were on exotic vacations or out of the country—you sighed, rubbing a hand against your stomach as you stared in the ceiling wall.

but then, the most lasciviously filthy thought made its way into your thoughts. you thickly swallowed before reaching a hand down between your legs. the air grew abnormally dry, shame…

to be completely honest, you couldn’t even remember the last time you touched yourself. this couldn’t have ever been a more perfect time. you were sure your father and his cocky best friend was out at top golf, probably.

intaking a single breath, you lean back against your pillow—slowly, you started to focus on your breathing.

parting your legs, you lightly pull down your shorts before tugging your panties to the side. you wince for a little, realizing how you were already a bit soaked. a little dampened spot right towards the front part of your underwear. you knew it had to be from pondering about toji.

speaking of, you remember that time where he helped—well, ‘attempted’ to cook dinner that one time. all you could focus on was his hands. such rough thick hands, you wondered what’d it feel like to have those same hands gingerly wrap around your throat. such thick fingers shove down your throat while he calls you such degrading names—just anything.

the more you were deep in thought, the more drenched you started to become. you went slow, being patient with yourself. you imagined it was toji’s fingers instead of yours. such big fingers thrusting in and out of you.

steadily, you start to insert a single finger in. a middle finger, it felt good, you suppressed a single moan and by this point, your imagination was running wild. you allowed your body to relax for a few moments before you slipped another finger inside. seconds later, you started to gentle move around inside your clit. your pace was sweet and precise—you let out a soft moan that rang throughout your thin walls. “toji—f-fuckkk.”

your voice was shaky, imagining toji being here right now made you throb ten times more. just propped all up behind you, thrashing his fingers against your swollen folds made you more aroused than you ever thought. your thrusts against your own entrance was small, a steady pace but irregular enough to make your knees start to buckle.

throwing your head back a little, you started to whine as each second dragged. your breath became insignificantly heavy, hitched and all. you made sure to stimulate in all the right areas, adapting to a perfect rhythm, then that’s when you’re rudely interrupted. talk about a cliche.

“hey. is it anymore detergen—”

toji pauses mid sentence, literally trying to process the scenery in front of him. he stands still and his initial reaction was slow. the first thing he does is chortle lowly. “well, shit. is this a bad time?”

you’ve never felt anymore embarrassed in your life, a sudden wave of heat rushed over your body before you quickly shielded yourself with your blanket. “oh my god,” you’d squeak out, and toji averts his eyes elsewhere for a few seconds. “i thought you all left already.”

toji hums. he takes a moment, and it’s as if he’s thinking of what to say. he was amused, seeing your flustered state and he looks back at you. “we were but it got canceled last minute since a storm’s approaching,” and you let off a soft gulp, hearing his footsteps creak against your wooden floor as he got closer. “thank god it was me who came in here ‘n not your father, right princess? now that’d be embarrassing.”

“stop calling me that,” you grumble, and you don’t even realize how soft and weak your voice was. you slowly pull your fingers out before intaking another sharp breath. he glanced at you before simpering. “haven’t you heard of knocking?”

“girl,” toji utters in a low rasp. “the door was wide open. i can’t knock on air,” and you mentally eye rolled — he was so insufferable. incredibly so, toji’s eyes roam across your old room that was a bit scattered with some boxes from when you moved out four years ago. it was a bit unkempt, your father usually used your room sometimes just to store things from the attic. toji buried his hands into his pockets before chuckling. “i heard you, ya know. moaning my name all loud like that.”

you blinked thrice, sitting up before compressing your eyebrows together. “what?”

“whaaat?” he jeers, mocking you. toji inches closer towards you until he was right beside your bedside. you gaze up at him and he had a blunt sticking out from the corner of his lips. he looked so appetizing, even while dressed down. ripped jeans and a sweatshirt. you could tell he was fit, of course he was—you saw him shirtless. he was well likely in his early thirties, dressing so laid back and casual. “between you and me, sweetheart, you can do better. ‘s cute ‘n all but that’s not how ya finger yourself. been a while, yeah?”

this guy, he was so bold. casually speaking his dirty mind, not afraid to say anything.

you don’t know why, but those last few words made you throb. you loathed how right he was, it was as if he could read you like a book. between studies and actually living a university student’s life, you barely ever get time to yourself. time to please yourself.

“whatever,” you utter. “yeah... it’s been a while.”

“poor thing,” he clicks his tongue before taking a seat on your bed. it jitters from his weight for a bit before he peers a gaze at you. “hm,” he puffs out, dragging a hand against his jeans. “i’d be happy to help though. those useless fingers of yours can only please you so much, right? heh.”

this indescribable effect he had on you, it heavily irked your nerves. “…please,” and you don’t even register what quickly came out of your mouth.

you were so pent up by this point, being interrupted. you wanted to finish, you desperately wanted to finish. your soft breaths hitched, and toji’s intimate stare lingered on you for a bit. his loud cologne started to waft across the entire room, so intoxicating. “just make me finish, please.”

“there’s those manners,” he coos in a husky tone, and he gets up closer. he was purely teasing you, you just wanted to feel his touch . . . feel something at least. he pulls the fat cover that went over you, yet at a more tantalizingly slow pace. he was a mere tease, you nearly let off a whine once you felt the tips of his warm fingers skim past your thighs. “messy girl,” he mumbles, and then he pauses to glance at you. “are you sure? jus’ wanna-”

“toji,” you mutter, and you liked hearing you roll his name so sweetly off your tongue. seeing you grow purely frustrated was utter amusement to him. the way your eyebrows would curl and furrow, irises flaring and your jaw slightly tensing. you had such readable body language by default too. “please. i want you. just touch me.”

he simpers. “pretty please.”

“……”

again, he was so infuriating. you felt yourself starting to pant, not knowing how much longer you could take as he started to softly trail a thumb against your skin. his touch was so warm, it was intense and ignited something within you.

“touch me—pretty please, toji.” you mutter out, sprawling your legs out just a bit. it was so hot, the temperature surrounding the atmosphere of the room was so humid. he glances at you before smiling.

“that’s a good girl.”

his words warmed your heart in such a lewd provocative way, you just wanted his touch.

desperately yearning for it, toji leans up close, bringing a big hand to part your legs apart and he was so slow. he takes the blunt that was propped up between his teeth, setting it aside near your nightstand. you prepare to inhale deeply, not expecting him to then bring a tender kiss towards your inner thighs. he started to create a trail—a trail that gingerly went up and up and up.

“so sensitive,” he’d purr, watching your own body melt from just the softness of his lips against your skin. you wanted him to hurry, you replayed this exact scenario over and over at least a dozen times. now that it was reality, you just knew that your body wanted him. “oh. don’t give me that look,” and he smirks, watching the pout grow against your lips. “gonna stare at me all day or are ya gonna tell me how you’d like for me to start?”

“i need you to—eat me out,” you huff out in short singular breaths. you were throbbing rapidly, each moment he stalled to speak, the more aroused you grew. his warm breath just fanning against your folds had you nearly going weak.

he snickers. “need?” he repeats, and you moan once he swiftly drags a finger down your soaked cunt. it was drenched, but it could be a bit more. toji hums to himself cockily. “you don’t need shit, girl. fix your sentence ‘n talk proper..”

“i—” you gripe, starting to grow more and more frustrated. your vexed facial expression amused him. he raises his darkened brows, awaiting for your answer and the cute pout that continued to stretch across your lips was so cute. “i— i want you to eat me out, pretty please.”

“much better,” he says in a low gruff. the moment he finally hovers his mouth over your sopping clit, toji gently strokes a thumb up and down. opening you up slowly, he creates a single slow lick to make you whimper. “i’ll make ya cum quicker than you ever could, princess.”

and you knew he probably wouldn’t lie about a simple fact like that. toji’s touch, it was sloppy.

without a doubt, he was a messy eater.

just one taste of you and he was hooked—a new addiction for him and it wasn’t gambling.

you tasted sweet, candied even. he was in so deep, occasionally the tip of his nose would prod against your entrance. you slumped back against the bed, your legs twitching in pleasure. not before long, your lips started to part and you started to gnaw on your hardened knuckles. you didn’t wanna be too loud—you just remembered your father was right downstairs.

he didn’t have the best hearing in the world, but knowing you, you could be a bit overzealous with your moans.

the noises his tongue made, sliding his tongue between your folds, sucking and nibbling. he even broke away his lips just to spit a nice wad onto your pussy. you watched the entire time, mesmerized. he was so nasty—nasty and you only wanted more. toji continued to drag a thumb against your slit, lapping up your slick arousal that was already starting to drip down his chin. it ran further down, a bit of his trimmed facial hair now soaked with your sweetness.

“how’s it feel, princess,” he’d mutter out, briefly departing his lips away. as he does—you stare as a pretty cobweb of his own spit tugs against your own entrance. glistening and all, it was so sheeny. he was right between your precious thighs, and you couldn’t help but give his ruffled dark hair a light pull. “tell me how i make you feel. talk to me nice, girl.”

“good,” you whimper, nearly choking on your own saliva. your words were so trembly, you could hardly recognize yourself. it’s been a while since you’ve been eaten out, let alone being intimate. as you continued to let off irregular breathing patterns, you swallow. “f-feels good.”

“just good?” he’d tease, bringing a long suck towards your clit. you let off a whine once he playfully nibbles near that particular spot with his teeth. his tongue scrapes against your folds time and time again. it’s indescribable—toji’s head shook back and forth as he was nose deep into your pussy. for a moment, he sounds offended.

toji gives your cunt a sweet little kiss, and he feels it start to hastily pulse from doing so.

he knew you were getting close, all from a simple cue from his tongue. speaking of toji’s tongue . . it was lengthy.

so long, it reached areas that had your eyes mindlessly rolling back.

cute little cacophonies of, “oh my g-godddd,” repeated ghosts past your lips as you started to practically drag his face against you. the texture of his tongue—so moist and slick, already wet from obvious reasons, but grew even more dampened from your sheer arousal. it was a taste his tastebuds grew to crave more of. “gonna c-cum toji. f-fuckkk.”

“you’re gonna wait for me, little girl,” he grouses, and your irises fleetingly dilate. he gifts the entrance of your cunt with another string of spit, then he rubs a few circles against it. mean vigorous circles that made your legs pathetically twitch. “you make a mess when i tell you too.”

he was so mean.

such sternness in his tone, yet it turned you on. that slight secretive rasp that hid underneath his voice. toji breaks his lips away for a moment, glaring at you before focusing near the crevices of your thighs. he teasingly slides his tongue upward, away from your most sensitive area just to watch you squirm.

“toji,” you’d whimper, feeling his tongue just roam everywhere from below. he was so skilled, you’ve never had a man be so sloppy. at least in a way that toji was. he greedily sucks near your thighs, gently sinking his canines into the plush of your thighs before going back towards your pussy. “i can’t—can’t hold..”

you were barely able to finish your sentence, and that’s when you came — it was so sudden and abrupt. gushing all out of you and your nerves had your mind spiraling. a constant crazed loop.

it felt like a wave, a tsunami crashing down and it felt so good.

your orgasm that shortly followed was so loud, you didn’t even bother trying to cover your mouth. toji chuckles, cupping his mouth around the very top part of your achey slit before lapping his tongue against your hood. your hips temporarily quavered due to his tongue, and you still maintained a rough grip on his head.

“easy on the fuckin’ hair,” he’d grunt after feeling you roughly yank on his strands bringing a kiss towards your slick entrance. you swallowed, your legs feeling practically mush before he brings a terse spank towards your clit. “cute ‘n all, but i didn’t say you could finish yet.”

“s-sorry,” you’d breathe out, still feeling the after effects of your intense high. it was so good, your eyes were all hooded and droopy. toji saw a bit of drool seeping from the corners of your mouth and hums silently.

he sighs, leaning up before getting on top of you. he hovers himself and you stare up at him. he rests both arms over you, groping near the rickety headrest before leaning up close to your face.

“are you sorry, sweetheart?” and he gets up a bit closer, green viridescent eyes glance right into you—you smelled the mint and brief tang of alcohol residing on his tongue. using another hand to grab your chin, he softly pulls your bottom lip down before derisively grinning. “aw. nothing to say? no back talk this time?”

“i… want a kiss,” you pant, feeling his warm body just inches away from colliding against yours. just a single inch and he’d be grinding on you. “kiss me.”

“oh i dunno. sounds like a demand, babygirl,” he’d sneer, and your eyes leer near his scar. it was damp a little from him just being between your thighs a moment ago. perhaps it was a bit filthy, but you wanted to taste it. taste him. “ask me the right way.”

you pout, staring right into his eyes. “i wan— can i get a kiss, pretty please. i just want a kiss.”

“course ya can,” he utters, and that’s right when he squeezes your chin. your lips were plump and glossy. toji stares at you back for a long while, studying your cute expressions before he leans right in. the kiss was passionate, it felt so wrong but felt so right. you moaned the second his lips crashed onto yours. he finds it cute, feeling your arms rub and feel around his slim waist. you were pulling him closer — a sign that you wanted more of him. toji teasingly grinds his hefty body against you, and you whimper in his mouth once you feel his thick bulge prod against your panties that were halfway on you. “mhm.” he’d groan.

while his tongue skims against yours, you part your lips a bit for him and the incoming savory taste you’d get a treat out of.

you made sure to savor it, so sweet with a bit of spice.

running your tongue against his, breaking away to lick near his chin, softly making sure to lick near his stubble—you cleaned your own mess off of him. without him asking you either, toji grunts as he watched you through his peripherals. he’d never expect his best friend to have such a nasty girl for a daughter.

“y’er fuckin’ filthy,” he mumbles, breaking away and watching both strands of spit leave and depart. your lips curv into a cute needy scowl before he heard your father suddenly call out from downstairs.

“honey? i said, was that a scream…? is everything okay?”

your eyes widen, not even knowing your father was speaking—yelling actually. toji snickers, and now he’s the one suddenly quiet. prick.

“o-oh um,” you clear your throat, sitting up and that’s when toji starts to create soft chaste kisses near the inside of your neck. you nearly moaned before turning your head to speak. “i’m—i’m fine. i thought i saw a cockroach.”

“cockroach? do you need me to come up and—”

“no!” you’d quickly reply before clearing your throat once more. you let off a sigh, feeling toji start to suck near your collarbone. “i mean, no dad. i’m okay. thanks anyways.”

“okay honey, if you say so.”

toji chortles. “fuck. you’re bad at lying. just tell y’er old man you were getting eaten out by me.”

you glare at him, immensely bringing your brows into a furrow. “no, i’m not gonna say that. are you crazy?”

“maybe.”

you eye rolled, yet part of you felt like he wasn’t exactly lying. after all, he could probably be insane—perhaps he was.

you didn’t know, and to be frank, you didn’t really care. all you really cared about was getting pleasured—riding out orgasm after orgasm with him, and that’s exactly what you ended up doing for hours on end.

toji would find himself leaned back against your pillow, studying your hips carefully before grinning.

the moment you lightly shove him back, he clicks his tongue. “oh?” he says, and you already sprung his dick out. he was very much hard, presenting you with an upward slight curve. you licked your lips, hovering over him before giving him a few strokes. a groan slips past his lips and your thumb brushes against the various veins that ran just below his foreskin. “y’er gonna ride me? can a sweet girl like you even handle it?”

“shut up,” you’d fuss, and he just smirks at you. you wanted to wipe that smug expression from his face. he knew just how to irritate your nerves. toji watches you throw your leg over him, a simple hook around. you’re straddling him now and he brings two rough hands to attach near your hips. you lean in to kiss him again and he returns it, slowly tilting his head back and your arms wrap around him. he feels you reach down, grabbing ahold of his shaft before softly sliding the head of his dick near your slick entrance. “s-shit. you’re big.”

“i try not to disappoint,” he slyly says, sliding a thumb near your hips. his voice was so low, so pompous and arrogant. you give him a glare but he only hums out of pure amusement. “barely the tip in ‘n y’er struggling. need my help, sweetheart?”

you ignored him and he smirks, allowing you to do your thing—you bring one hand towards his chest, gently feeling near his perfectly chiseled abs. he was so toned, tracing against his tense muscles and he watches your every move. it was as if time was stood still, he chuckles at how eager you were. you weren’t like him, you weren’t patient and thorough. you were a bit more rushed and sloppy—cute, it was very much cute to him though.

a moan goes past your lips once the wet tip of his slowly starts to sink inside. it had a few droplets of pre-cum leaking down, and you slowly rocked your hips in place to get comfortable. his eyes go lower to focus more on your body, the grip he had on your waist was so rough and sensual. because toji was so thick — it took you a good six minutes, six precise minutes to reach all the way down to the base. your lips opened a bit, and you let off a soft shrilling whimper once you did a cute attempt at jerking forward.

“take it slow,” he purrs in such a rasp, you leisurely started to lurch back and forth once he was buried all the way down to the hilt. you inhale deeply and he was so hefty. balls deep, swollen balls that was hidden and engulfed beneath your inner walls. “atta girl.” he praises, watching you try to maintain a decent rhythm.

ringing went throughout your ears, you felt all hot.

toji playfully brings a hand to feel near your tummy. you were wearing some old university hoodie. it was comfortable, but much to his surprise, you didn’t have a bra underneath. he hums to himself, and you let off a moan once his hand trails ever further. further and further until his thumb brushes against your perky nipples.

“t— toji,” you’d moan, and another hand of his was tightly clinging onto the left part of your waist. you were riding him smoothly. yet since he was so big, you started to feel your thighs building up with drowsiness. your efforts were cute to him, so desperately eager to get off.

his black lashes flicker, and the way he’s all leaned back and manspread was so attractive—you felt your back start to naturally arch and it didn’t take long for toji to reach that particular spot. once you felt his tip prod against there—way past inside the orifices of your cunt, you let off a sweetened whimper. “found it,” he whispers, bringing you close towards his chest. you lean into his touch, intaking his cologne into your nose before your hand starts to wander all over his body. he liked how handsy you were, slipping a hand right underneath his shirt to feel a part of his abs. you made sure to trace directly on each line, each tender flexing muscle. all the way down onto his sharp v-line. further down, you started to feel his happy trail. your favorite.

he grunts, feeling the softness of your hands meander freely. “that’s it, sweetheart,” he gruffs in a sharp breath. an imaginary lump getting caught in his throat — he was holding both of your hips upright and by this point you were slamming right onto his thick cock. “touch me more. feel all over me baby.”

“can i—” you started, leaning in to kiss near the crook of his neck. your voice was soft, a bit trembly before your hands went up this time. feeling near his pecs before a breath gets caught in his throat. “can i feel here, toji?”

“f-fuckin’ girl,” he groans, a chill running down his spine the second he feels you gently rubbing a thumb against his nipples this time. toji was surprisingly far more sensitive despite his rough front he was putting up, it was a bit cute. after all, he did say feel all over you. toji was panting now, while you rode him continuously, he swiped a few beads of sweat from his forehead. “whatever.”

you giggle, watching him now be the one with a pouty expression this time. you plant a kiss near where his slanted scar went down his lip before he spanks your ass. “just ‘cause ‘m sensitive there doesn’t mean ‘m gonna get all whiney for you, girl,” he utters in a raspy tone. the sharp sting from the spank felt good.

you felt yourself twitch between your thighs whilst your hips moved in harmony. you do a little back bend with your hips, constantly jerking against him and he grunts with how slow yet sloppy your movements were. “keep goin’ slow like that. ‘m gonna—cum.”

his voice consistently got deeper, and the tips of his fingers gently pierced into your skin—you were vocal yourself though. moan after moan, a constant repeat. you found yourself whining out his name as if it was a lewd mantra. over and over again, to toji though, it was purely music to his ears.

he feels you start to slow down a bit though, exactly at the minute he tells you he was approaching his incoming release. toji clenched his jaw, gifting the fat of your ass with another mean spank. “f-fuck. keep fuckin’ me. make me fuckin’ cum.”

you plant kisses near his neck this time, near the very inside and you swiftly quicken your pace a little. he was stuffing you full of thick inches, full of such girth that had your tongue salivating right in your mouth. you could only imagine what it’d feel like to have his seed pouring into you. you couldn’t lie to yourself, ever since you saw toji shirtless. his bulge sticking out through his towel, you only imagined he’d be so full of cum to give. you tilt your hips backwards, and he lets off a husky groan.

that particular spot reached so deep, you felt it too. his cockhead pokes and taps repeatedly against your sweet spot and you sob out a needy, “f-fuck, ‘s right there,” you tilt forward and he’s just about reaching his peak. the longer you took, the more spanks you received.

toji was a patient man, but only for so long.

the bed frame creaked constantly, it was the only tune that played in the background. he slithers a hand down between your thighs and spanks your cunt a few times. you whimpered, already a bit sensitive but felt something else approaching. “toji— toji.”

toji groans, the build up nearly taking his breath away. with your rhythmic thrusts against him, his eyes merely roll and he has to take a minute to catch his breath. you wrap a hand around his throat—tenderly of course—then place your lips onto his once he finally finishes inside of you.

he didn’t expect for you to choke him, but he liked it.

he liked how forward you were, your thumb lightly grazed against his adam’s apple, and a deep grunt gets trapped in his throat. your cunt was practically overflowed with such dumps of his cum—you’ve never felt more filled. toji shook a little, a hand gripping your ass as you kissed him.

slowly, he started to feel himself get addicted.

he already was addicted from having a simple taste of you earlier, but he was getting infatuated. you had him whipped, and he knew this probably wouldn’t be a one time thing.

albeit, the last thing you expect is to pull away from the kiss once you feel a sudden pressure brewing up within you.

momentarily, you whine—feeling a sudden familiar wetness coat his base. nerves all throughout your body had you locked in a trance, and you pause your hips before toji tsks.

“little girl,” he mumbles with a sly smile. “did you just squirt on me?”

it was so unexpected, you pant heavily—heave after heave leaving your lips before you moan out a sweet, “y-yes.”

“don’t be shy about it. i like when it’s messy,” he sneers, his eyes tantalizingly trailing down your body once more before he lifts you up just a bit from his shaft. he observes the lewd mess, how much cum trickled past your thighs and he hums. “wanna do that again? i bet i can do it in five minutes, baby.”

to say you were being treated like a rag doll was an understatement.

toji was ruthless with you, ruthless with you in your own house. well, ex-house. you didn’t live here anymore but you used to.

he coaxed orgasm after orgasm out of you like it was nothing. making you imitate and try positions you’ve never even heard of—you were getting stretched, easily said. it’s been hours by this point, you weren’t even in your room anymore. you were in the bathroom with him.

toji had you propped up against the door, you’re taking him from behind and you’re roughly biting down on your lip.

entirely so, it was still risky.

your father was right outside near the living room doing who knows what. probably watching some sports program—yet of course, he started to grow curious of where his best pal went. initially, toji said he had to use the restroom.

like four hours ago . .

he was so mean too, spanking your ass numerous times. your ass was perked upright for him, and you’re leaning against the door. you whimpered, feeling him grip on your panties that he refused to pull off of you.

oh, he likes seeing it dangle and thwack against your skin. the pretty fabric just cutely rubbing against your thighs. his weight just barely hovers against you and he’s smacking right into you.

your cunt swallowed his hefty inches each and every time—by this point, you weren’t sure if you could even give him one more.

you lost count of how many mind blowing orgasms that you were just completely intoxicated from his dick and his dick alone.

toji’s rough bare hands grab onto both parts of your ass, spreading it before deepening his strokes just a bit. you moaned, feeling every inch store inside of your sweet cunt. he knew just where to hit you. you breathe through your mouth and your nose at the same time, heavy cute pants that started to fog up the door’s material.

“fuck, fuck me f-fuckkk,” you’d drag out, and your back naturally arches just from a teasing touch of his finger racing down your back.

your ass was held up high and your cheek was softly nudging against the cold door. another build up was approaching and you were just so in awe—you were literally thinking, where has he been all your life? “close, ‘m getting closer.”

“bet you are. drippin’ all on me ‘n it’s fuckin’ nasty,” he replies—yet you freeze once you hear footsteps approach the door. it was your father, right when you were about to cum—you feel toji’s hand wrap around your mouth. your eyes roll backwards, and then he speaks through the other end of the door.

“toji? hehe, did ya fall in there man? you’re missing the game. we’re down by four points.”

toji chuckles, hearing a tiny muffled squeak go past your lips. he was balls deep, giving you such thick vigorous inches. that’s when he leans right up close to you—a hand still propped to have your mouth shut before whispering in a raspy tone. “you gotta be quiet, sweetheart. you want y’er old man to hear you make a sloppy mess on me?”

you shake your head, making an attempt to try and suck on his fingers and be smiles. “messy baby.”

your mouth was now stuffed with nothing but his thick fingers. you moaned, coating each digit with your glistening saliva as he pounded right into you. the grip your cunt had on him made him groan. eyes roll into the depths of your cranium so far back that your vision was pure black. squelch after squelch, it was so erotic. the build up of your incoming release yet again.

it was so slow and tense, you felt your thighs ache and tremble the more you were arched all over for him. the most sluttiest arch he’s seen in a while.

“huh—oh, nah man i’m good,” toji replies with a simper. you were trying so hard to be quiet, if your father heard anything, that’d be a wrap for you.

dying out of pure embarrassment certainly wasn’t on your bucket list for sure. the way toji responded was so casual, almost as if he wasn’t just happily drilling into his best friend’s cunt in his own home. “four points? shit. defense can’t do anything right.”

“telllll me about it! i could play better with my eyes closed, damn.”

you found it so irksome how they were casually having a dumb conversation whilst you were just about to gush right onto toji’s shaft—you felt him dip his hips into you deeper though, and you let off a sweet whine.

toji leans into your ear and whispers. “you’re doing a good job, sweetheart,” and then he chuckles. removing his hand, you nearly let off the most loudest orgasm imaginable but you kept it together by biting your tongue. it was a cute squeal, and as your legs part you made such a mess.

again…

it was probably the umpteenth time.

while you ride out your release, he’s slowing down his strokes and stares at the excess cum filling up your entrance. toji licks his lips, dragging a thumb to plug it all back in once he pulls out. he didn’t like putting things to waste. you whimper, feeling so taken aback from how stuffed full you were.

it was an awkward silence, you felt a sharp scare in your stomach once you thought your father heard everything — but thankfully so, he plopped right back down on the couch. toji lets you take a moment to calm down, and then he brings a wet kiss towards your lips. you were so sensitive, trembling within his hold—you didn’t want him to leave just now.

“atta girl,” he purrs, that same sly smile pressing against his lips as he brings a thumb towards your lip. his gaze was so hypnotizing. such pools of green eyes looked like it had a story to tell, and perhaps you wanted to know just who toji fushiguro really was.

maybe that story is ready for another day though.

thankfully you didn’t get caught.

or did you—you had to leave out the bathroom first, then toji after about a lengthy minute time difference so it wouldn’t be remotely suspicious. once the both of you were out, after about an hour of you all crammed up and watching the boring never ending basketball game, your dad ends up going to the bathroom.

while he was occupied, you leaned against toji and he wraps an arm around you. he could tell you wanted more—but his gaze was stern, telling you with his eyes to basically be a good girl and be patient.

a few seconds pass before you father bellows out a pitched, “erm. toji? is this shampoo—? what’s this white stuff over the sink? doesn’t look like shampoo.”

the both of you share the same frozen expression, impish smiles fading before you nudge toji to speak after long seconds passes.

“huh? oh, that’s uh mayonnaise. i forgot to clean up after myself.”

“aren’t you allergic to mayonnaise?”

you mentally facepalm, watching toji break into a sheepish sweat before he gruffs out a low, “i guess not that brand of mayonnaise.”

“right. riiiight,” your father mutters, and you heard sudden shifting. it was abrupt, and you felt something fall — probably a brush from the familiar after sound, you then hear your dad add a follow up question. “wait a minute,” and he glances down near the floor. “are these panties?”

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[rebelliousstories]

Their S/O Walking in on Them Changing…

Fandom: X-Men

Request: Yes by Anon

Warnings: Suggestive themes, Brief Strong Language, Fluff

Word Count: 1,222

Main Masterlist: Here

X-Men Masterlist: Here

Leave a TIP: Here and Here

Logan Howlett/ The Wolverine

* Logan has been around a long time, and has long let go of any shame of someone catching him in that vulnerable position. That being said…

* He never likes anyone coming into his space unannounced. Clothed, or not. So, someone coming into his room, without knocking, while he’s sliding pants on, dressed only in boxers; he’s pausing and sniffing the air to determine if the claws are necessary. When he doesn’t smell an immediate threat, he’s still hunched over and stationary when he sees you walk in.

* “Hey,” he’ll grumble, “you okay, bub?”

* He’s not afraid of you seeing him like this, but the pausing is a little concerning for him. Logan gets his pants on, does his belt, and then comes over to you.

* Logan always smells like smoke and whiskey, coupled with what can only be described as an animal-type musk to him. But it’s not terribly overpowering. And his chest is so very warm when he crowds you in after catching you staring. Logan’s hands on your waist just fill you with warmth. He is a walking furnace, and definitely uses it to his advantage.

* “Everything alright in that head of yours?” He would just love to tease you when he caught you openly gawking at him. It makes him feel better about himself, and your relationship. Every version of Logan has enough trauma to fill several books, so reassurance is something he definitely needs every now and again.

* Safe to say that walking in on Logan is a wonderful chance for him to get the praise he wants, and maybe a pair of wandering hands across his chest.

Wade Wilson/ Deadpool

* Oh boy, walking in Wade is both a blessing and a curse. This man is well aware of his physique. He holds no illusions that his cancer ridden skin is not the most attractive thing in the world, but he made do with what he had. So catching him is near impossible. Before the mutation had wrecked his look, he would have gladly let you catch him in the middle of changing. Now, well, he didn’t want to make you lose your lunch.

* So, all that to say, catching him changing is very difficult. However, it has happened. It was just a regular day. Well, as regular as it could get into the household. Wade had just returned from an afternoon of Deadpool-ing around the city, and was trying to get changed before you came home. He knew that he was cutting it close as it is, but he still held out hope that he would be done. That wasn’t the case. The sound of a door coming open made Wade try and get out of his suit fast, but that only succeeded in getting him stuck in the suit.

* “Well, this is an interesting sight.” He flopped on the bed, and looked to the door. There you stood, with a shopping bag from your day out, and watching your boyfriend struggle with his suit.

* “I know. It’s like a golf ball covered in skin that went into a red leather condom. Can you just yank on that leg please?” It’s a much less funny event than you would expect. And when you don’t leave after getting him out of his suit? He’s utterly confused. Standing there in his boxers, Wade was patiently waiting for you to go. But you never did. Your eyes stayed glued to him, and he couldn’t help but make a comment.

* “You can’t honestly like this, you little freak?”

* “You bet your sweet ass I do.”

* He doesn’t believe you, but after a few rounds, he might come around to the idea.

Remy LeBeau/ Gambit

* My sweet southern gentleman. Let me tell you one thing that I said in the last headcanons; This man is so respectful. Remy LeBeau, walking in on you, is embarrassed about betraying your trust like that. However, Remy LeBeau that you walk in on, is a tease, sly, smug S.O.B.

* I can fully see where he would be changing too. He’d be a gentleman and allow you the first shower so you can have all the hot water and a longer experience. But Remy is burning up. It’s summer in New Orleans, the bug screen is up on the windows, but the breeze can’t cool him down enough. He figures that he could at least take off his shirt while he’s waiting. But his pants soon join the shirt on the ground as well because he still can’t cool down. He’s about to flop down onto the bed when he hears the bathroom door open and out you walk in just a towel.

* “See somethin’ ya like, cher?”

* “Go take a shower, you stinky swamp rat.”

* He might be a little cocky when he catches you staring at his figure that he usually keeps hidden under many layers, but when your face heats up n a fierce blood red blush, Remy is quick to get her his clothing and move in to go take his own shower. Once he’s out though, prepare for a menace to be on your hands.

* He’s constantly asking if you like his body, and will gently tease you for the rest of the night about you not being able to wait to catch him in such a state of undress. If you play along, he’ll keep going till the moment calls for it. But if you aren’t here for the banter, he’s genuinely asking if he made you uncomfortable. Your comfort is paramount with our swamp rat.

* But Gambit will tease you about it occasionally, especially in public, when it can almost guarantee a rise out of you.

Poly! Deadpool and Wolverine

* Much like the DP headcanons above, I feel like this is going to happen after a mission they go on. The two of the stumble home to the apartment, and already have their masks off, when they fumble and slam their way into the bedroom. They try to be quiet because they know that you’re asleep in the bed in the middle of the room, but it’s hard when the grunts of sore muscles and moving leather fill the room.

* “Stop making so much damn noise, mouth. You’re gonna wake up the beast, and I don’t feel like dealing with that right now.” Logan would grumble.

* “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that my quiet unzipping of my suit meticulously was overpowering your grunts and groans like you just got out of a cage match.”

* “Will the two of you shut the hell up and strip so I can have something to dream about?” Your voice startled the two men, who had assumed that you were sleeping peacefully.

* Let me remind you, these are fully grown men and they decided to spend the next fifteen minutes taking off their suit while putting the blame on the other for you waking up. Like a couple of children, but you sucked it up because it was worth the eye candy to help drift you off into dreamland once more.

* By the time they get into bed and quit their bickering, you have already fallen asleep to the dreams filled with Logan’s perfect sculpted body, and Wade’s side comments. But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[abibliophobiaa]

Chapter Three: Roommates

summary: eddie proposes you move in with him, and you do — for the baby, duh.

warnings: mentions of morning sickness; brief vomit mention; but other than that 7.2k of fluff.

eddie munson x pregnant!reader || strangers to friends to lovers, unplanned pregnancy, and then they were roommates, forced proximity.

——

masterlist | previous chapter, next chapter

——

Though you anticipated seeing more of Eddie in the upcoming months, you hadn’t expected it quite literally the next day. Chrissy had suggested a ‘family dinner’ that Sunday evening, but Steve ended up meeting a work friend to play some golf, and Melody had been fussing all day. When she had helplessly mentioned she hadn’t been able to go food shopping, you offered to go pick up everything she’d need.

It just so happened to be that when you drove up, Eddie’s van was sitting in front of the house, his head visibly bobbing where it was above the steering wheel, fingers dancing along the steering wheel. Curiosity got the better of you and you pulled into the sprawling driveway beside him, rolling your window down and looking in until he’d realized he had been caught and lowered the dial on his music.

The window beside you rolled down next, his head leaning over the center console so he could ask, “Need help? Backseat is looking a little full there.”

“We’re gonna pretend I didn’t just see you having your own private concert?”

“Please,” he laughed, turning the car off. Before you could even argue with him about the endless grocery bags, he was already out of his vehicle and heading over to your trunk. “Pop the trunk. You’re not meant to be lifting much anyway.”

“How do you know?” You walked up beside him, unlocking the trunk to reveal the endless bags hidden within.

“Steve gave me one of his dad books to prepare,” he said, lifting some of the heavier bags first. You reached in to grab some of the lighter ones, resting them high on your hip. “I stayed up all night reading up through the fourth month.”

“Eddie, that’s crazy.”

“I wanted to be prepared.” He shrugged, walking beside you up to the house. “Did you know that the baby’s eyes are closed right now, but they move around? Kind of cool, maybe a little creepy.”

“Definitely creepy,” you echoed, a little impressed he’d done all of that as you entered the home and Chrissy came stumbling out, now no longer with Melody in hand. “She finally went down?”

“Yes, thank goodness.” She approached Eddie, taking a couple of bags to lighten the weight loaded in his arms. “Just put everything on the island, I’ll take care of putting it all away.”

The second trip to the car proved different. Eddie noticed immediately the giant box of diapers and bag of baby clothes you’d yet to bring downstairs. Paused as he took in the sight of the tiny clothes, thumb running over a colorful onesie that peeked out of the plastic.

“Here,” he said thickly, lifting the box of diapers in one arm and the bag in the other, “I’ll help you bring them downstairs.”

Exhaling deeply, you closed the trunk and led him to the side entrance to the apartment. Robin had gone out with some friends, leaving the place empty. Eddie whistled as he stepped in, kicking his shoes off near the door, still wet from the snow that had fallen the night before.

“Uhm…where are you sleeping?” he asked out loud, taking in the space. “I mean, I’ve been here before. I know Robin has the bedroom, but where is your stuff?”

“I’m on the pullout couch,” you explained, walking him over, snatching a laundry basket on the way.

Waving an arm out to him, he handed over the bag of clothing and dropped down onto the couch beside you, the diapers already laid out on the kitchen table.

“You’re not serious.” He eyed you as you pulled outfit after outfit from the bag.

“I sleep right here,” you said, nonplussed.

“You can’t,” he stated plainly, voice rising.

“I mean…I can,” you retorted, tossing baby socks into the basket to be cleaned, “and I do.”

“Move in with me.”

Now you were convinced he’d absolutely lost it. The man who you procreated with was losing his mind, because there was no way in hell you’d heard him correctly.

“I can’t move in with you, I don’t even know you.”

“Look — I own a home. It’s not huge or anything, but it’s better than sleeping on a couch. There’s a guest bedroom you could stay in and another bedroom we could turn into a nursery. But you can’t stay here.”

“I was saving up for my own place,” you explained, tossing another item into the bin. “This is fine for right now. I can’t come live with you, take up your space, uproot your quiet. That’s silly, Eddie.”

“It’s not silly,” he argued, reaching into the bag and holding one of the little sleepers in his hands. He marveled for a moment and then shook his head, like he’d remembered something. “I told you I wanted to help out. Don’t you think it would be easier if, I don’t know, the baby woke up in the middle of the night and you had someone else there who could take care of things? I want to be able to bond with my kid too, you know?”

In theory, it sounded nice. The thought of having Eddie down the hall to assist with diaper changes seemed like a dream. An opportunity you hadn’t even imagined possible before bumping into him at the supermarket. And yet, the facts remained the same as they were: Eddie was, for all intents and purposes, a stranger.

“Just…think about it?” he asked softly, “please?”

You thought about it. For about five minutes after Eddie returned upstairs to help Steve fix something with his car. Apparently, when he wasn’t working on music, he maintained a job as a mechanic at the nearby car shop.

It just didn’t seem logical — his whole suggestion. Or, rather, you convinced yourself it didn’t.

Robin, however, seemed to be on Eddie’s side in regards to the whole ordeal.

Traitorous by your standards, and only further complicated your already swirling thoughts.

“I mean, you’ll have an extra set of hands. Someone else to help change diapers. Help with midnight feedings,” she rationalized, trailing off with a grin lining her features, “Plus the two of you probably need to learn to get along for the next eighteen years. That’s a long time, babe. Only way to do that is if you spend time together.”

——

Moving day happened the next weekend. It all seemed crazy when you thought about it. But then again, you hadn’t thought much about it. Your friends had sat around a table with Eddie after dinner on ‘family night,’ and Chrissy had the lovely idea to make a pro-con list.

That pro list didn’t lie, you’d give it that much.

Despite the beginnings of this ‘relationship,’ you were going to need to figure out how best to navigate the next couple months and the foreseeable future if both parties wanted to be involved in the most important person’s life in this situation.

Because when all the pieces had been laid out, despite your innate desire to protect and nurture them, this baby did have two parents.

And both deserved a part in their life — you knew that.

So arrangements were made and you agreed to moving in with the man. Settled on the fact that this was the best option for the baby, as you were not at all inclined to think about that man in any way other than friendship.

Especially not when he’d walked in from (conspiratorially) helping Steve work on his car for a couple days in a row while you waited for moving day, feet up on the couch reading a book, noticing his tee shirt covered in grease, hands the same color, hair pulled back into a ponytail.

It was the hormones, that was all. They were the ones betraying your body, not you. Because in the rational part of your mind, relationships failed. You’d seen it more times than you could count. Loved ones going through a divorce, friends falling in and out of love, your own failed relationships. It wasn’t worth it trying to complicate an already tangled web with feelings. Feelings were fleeting anyway.

The butterflies that kicked up whenever Eddie was near? Fleeting. The way you swore your heart skipped that first afternoon when Steve had helped you unload some of your things on moving day and Eddie entered from the bathroom, shirt pulled up to wipe at his sweaty forehead? Fleeting. The way your insides melted when you perused the living room and kitchen as the guys walked back out to your car to bring in the last of your boxes, only to find his What to Expect When You’re Expecting book perched on his coffee table, and a picture you’d given him from a recent ultrasound on his kitchen? Fleeting, with a capital ‘f.’

Eddie’s home itself was adorable. A small, three bedroom, one bathroom, with one level. The interior was a mix of darker furniture and sparse walls. He’d already agreed that you could spruce things up if you wanted to, and you’d immediately made notes that first day he gave you a tour. You loved the place — from the open plan of the kitchen and dining room, to his bedroom full of music memorabilia and Dungeons and Dragons merchandise (that you definitely teased him about), to your bedroom, with its white walls and olive bedding. There was a tan dresser on the far wall, and a floor to ceiling mirror on the back of the door. Simple, for the time being.

He’d brought you to the additional room next, had smiled at you and leaned an elbow up on the doorframe. “I figure a crib can go on that back wall. The closets are pretty decent sized. Maybe a dresser on the left wall, and the changing table over there. You could probably fit a rocking chair next to the crib, too.”

“Eddie…”

He sounded so hopeful. So expectant of what the future held. Smiled to himself like he could imagine his son or daughter in this room and radiated pride with it.

“We can get paint after we find out what it is.” He shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. Those dark eyes of his met yours. “I know it’s not the biggest, but I think it’s good for now.”

“It’s perfect,” you said softly, brushing at your eyes with the back of your hands, overwhelmed by the thought that in just a few short months your baby would be here, sleeping in this room in this house. “Damn hormones. I am not crying.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he chuckled, moving back down the hall toward the kitchen. “I’m going to start dinner. How do you feel about grilled cheese since we’ve been unpacking all day?”

Maybe you moaned a bit. And maybe Eddie laughed. And maybe you’d actually stepped into an episode of The Twilight Zone, but you found yourself hopeful. Excited for the future standing before you, and followed him back down the hall with dreams of gooey cheesy goodness on your mind.

——

The first couple of days proved to be an adjustment. On the first night, you padded into the bathroom, eyes still half-closed, bladder full, and screeched as you fell backward and careened into the toilet bowl.

Eddie sprang up out of bed at your terror, nearly crashing down the door, asking, “What happened? Is something wrong? Do we need to go to the hospital?”

“Eddie! Close your eyes, I’m naked!”

“Pretty sure seeing you naked is how we got into this situation.” He clapped a palm over his eyes.

“Do not even go there! You’re on thin ice as it is.”

“Jesus Christ, just tell me what happened, will you?! You scared me half to death.”

“Eddie Munson,” you nearly snarled, snatching a towel from the rack to cover yourself with, “did you leave the toilet seat up?”

“I mean…I may have.”

“Eddie!”

He rubbed at the back of his neck. “To be fair, I did live alone for the past five or so years here.”

“I could have drowned.”

“That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think, sweetheart?” His lips tugged upward into a grin that made you want to bash your head backwards against the wall. “And I came to your rescue, didn’t I?”

——

The second day brought long hours at work and a special home cooked dinner when you walked in through the front door. The house smelled amazing, like freshly made sauce and spices, mixed with a candle burning on the coffee table in the living room. You kicked your shoes off at the door and dropped your pocketbook on the ground beside them, shouldering off your jacket and placing it on the coat rack.

Eddie turned around as you entered the kitchen, watching as your hands rubbed up and down the sleeves of your sweater, trying to bring back some warmth into your body. He looked…annoyingly handsome. Feathery curls brushing his shoulders as his head bobbed to the music he had filtering through the radio, dark wash jeans, a thin black sweatshirt. An apron was tied around his waist, sitting low on his hips where his shirt had ridden up just enough to reveal the happy trail you knew slipped beyond his boxers.

Annnd now was not a good time to be thinking about Halloween. Not as you stepped up beside him and asked if he needed any help with anything. “You could grab us some drinks. Maybe grab the cheese from the fridge. I think I have everything else all good to go.”

“So you cook?” you mused, walking over to the refrigerator and grabbing two cans of Coca-Cola and the Parmesan.

“Should you be drinking that?”

“I still have food aversions because of your kid,” you said, pointing down for emphasis, “so I will drink whatever I can keep down at the moment. And right now that sounds like Coca-Cola.”

“Point taken.” He nodded, raising the volume a bit on the radio.

It sounded angry. Something metal, you assumed. Curiosity piqued, you asked, “Is this the kind of music you play? It sounds interesting.”

“Yeah. This one is actually ‘Master of Puppets.’ I learned it in a matter of a couple days back in my senior year of high school. Wayne had gotten me the album since I’d been passing all my classes. Was really nice of him.”

“A couple days?” Your elbows leaned onto the counter beside him, listening to the lyrics about obeying your master, and a master of puppets pulling strings. “That’s really incredible.”

“You could watch us play sometime?” Eddie suggested, dialing down the knob on the radio. “I’d…like for you to meet the guys. They’re also in town. We sometimes play smaller gigs at the Hideout. Kind of where we started, back when we were in high school.”

“That would be really cool,” you said, just as Eddie opened the oven and revealed rows of endless garlic bread.

Normally, you’d be over the moon. Ready to consume said garlic bread by the bucket full. But the scent — oh god, the scent had your stomach churning like waves lashing at the hull of a ship. Had your belly tightening, hand coming up to rest over your mouth as you dry heaved into a palm.

Eddie whirled around with the tray in hand and glanced worriedly at your face, feet carrying him closer as he prattled, “Are you okay?”

You held out your other hand in a silent warning of ‘stay back,’ heaving once more into your palm. “Please.”

He tossed the bread onto the stove top and called out your name, but you’d already rushed down the hall and expelled the contents of your stomach into the toilet, grasping onto the porcelain edges for dear life. A second wave crashed over you and you groaned, forehead dropping down against the wall of the shower, the chilly exterior cooling your clammy skin.

Eddie’s head popped in hesitantly as you lay there, curly hair bouncing about his shoulders as he reached around in the medicine cabinet and tossed one of the ginger candies Chrissy had given you by the bucket full, because while her morning sickness had faded after the start of the second trimester, yours had yet to do so.

“Anything I can do?” he asked, dropping down onto the ground, back against the sink cabinets.

“You’ve done enough,” you grumbled, popping the candy into your mouth with one hand, the other running over your midsection to quell the nausea. “I’m so sorry because I know you probably spent ages working on it, and I’m so grateful, but I need you to throw away the garlic bread.”

“No good?” You shook your head and he grimaced apologetically. “Let me go grab you some water and I’ll make sure to vanquish the evil bread before I come back. I’ll let you know when it’s safe, okay?”

You pressed a hand over your heart, feigning a faint. “My hero.”

He smirked, and you hated that fluttering wings stirred in your belly because of it.

——

The third evening brought with it a conversation as you readied for a night out with your friends. Chrissy and Steve had gotten a babysitter, and the two of you decided to meet up with them for some food and drinks at a local restaurant.

It sounded like a double date, and with your life already complicated enough being nearly eighteen weeks pregnant as February grew closer and closer to a close, you needed to make sure Eddie understood your friendship needed to remain the one stable thing in your life.

Because, for all intents and purposes, that was exactly what the two of you were. Roommates and friends. The kind of people who greeted each other after a day of work, maybe shared a bit about their day, ate at the dinner table together, and drifted off to bed separately.

An endless, platonic sleepover — with someone who you just happened to have previously slept with. But that wasn’t happening again; not even with the increased hormones running rampant in your body, insistent on keeping you on edge at nearly all hours of the day.

Luckily for you, the shower stall provided just the perfect sound barrier and proper channel to take care of such…urges, and Eddie remained none the wiser to it.

You could do this. You were doing this.

You found Eddie that evening adjusting the sleeves of his leather jacket in the living room. He’d gone with dark pants, a red shirt beneath, and that signature black leather jacket that should be a crime to society because of how well fitted it was to his body. His hair hung loose around his shoulders, a sparkly earring you’d never noticed before dangling in his ear as you approached.

“Don’t make fun,” you groused, stepping into the living area, “I need to go shopping, my sweaters are getting tighter now.”

You’d worn simple black boots, a pair of your newer jeans, and a cream knitted sweater that maybe only had a few weeks left of use in it.

“You look great,” he reassured. “You always look beautiful.”

“Thanks.” You glanced down at your feet, a little bashful, nervousness welling. “And hey ��� thank you for the past couple of days. I know it has to be weird having me here.”

“It’s different, having another person in the house. But it feels right.”

“I’m really happy that we’re doing this whole…friendship and parenting thing,” you continued, watching the corners of his mouth twitch downward just the slightest. “I just think that’s best for the baby.”

“Is that what we’re doing?” he asked, and you swore you could hear the hurt lining his words.

“Sex complicates things. Obviously, we’ve already learned that,” you began, toying with the ring on his middle finger, “so I think we should keep things friendly. It’ll be better in the long run.”

As in, Halloween was to remain a memory and not something revisited.

“Is that what you think?” He sounded doubtful, but you knew he’d respect it without issue. You’d learned that much in the short while of knowing him.

“Yeah.”

Even though you craved him. Chalked it up to human instinct to want to be nearer to the man, but you pushed it into the caverns of your mind. Locked it away in a box, to remain untouched.

“Then we’ll work on being best friends,” he agreed, stepping forward to loop his arms around your shoulder and tug you in close for a friendly hug, “for the baby.”

——

You found out Eddie wasn’t a fan of spinach in his eggs by the fifth day. You had ended up making extra anyway, and since he was kind enough to cook dinner without even asking most nights, you thought you might do the same. He whistled upon entering the kitchen, face growing pale at the plate you smiled gleefully at when you exclaimed ‘I made you breakfast.”

He still ate them despite your countless protests that he absolutely didn’t have to. Poor guy had grinned at you through what looked like terror in his eyes, swallowing each bite with an emphasized hum of forced pleasure. And damn it he didn’t need to look so good like that, freshly crumpled shirt from bed, bicep reaching up to rub at his neck, revealing dark swirling ink on his limbs, hair in a messy bun at the back of his head since he’d end up pulling it back for work anyway.

“Eddie.” You laughed, pulling your chair closer to the table in the kitchen, stabbing at your own eggs. “You really don’t have to eat them. I just figured you’ve been so kind feeding me literally all week, I wanted to help out a bit. Do my own part around the house.”

He shrugged, popping a blueberry in his mouth. “You really don’t have to. I enjoy cooking. Might not be great at it, but I like it.”

“Yeah, but I want to contribute more,” you explained, chewing at a strawberry and swallowing it down with some water. “You’ve given up two rooms in your home. Maybe I can do some of the chores. Dishes after dinner, laundry — I don’t know.”

His mouth twitched at that, dark eyes rising to meet your own. “Deal.”

“Really? I thought I was going to have to grovel. Seeing as you haven’t let me lift a finger in days.”

“I hate laundry,” he stated plainly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, “you drive a hard bargain, Buttercup.”

“Then great, I’ll start now —”

“Sit down,” he chuckled, hand curling around your forearm before you could rise from the table, hip nearly bumping the corner in your hastiness. “Finish your breakfast. And the water. Please.”

A twinkle gleamed in his eye. Something that made butterflies burst low in your belly. “What is your day looking like?”

“I have work till around four, and then I thought I would invite some of the guys over since it’s Friday. If that’s okay?”

“It’s your home.”

“Yeah, but it’s yours too now.”

You shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

“Would you want to meet them? I’ve told them about you,” he said, then glanced down beneath the table, “and you.”

“Yeah, sure.” Your back leaned against the wooden chair, a deep exhale falling from your lips. “Do you want to go food shopping together? Get some drinks and snacks?”

“I’d love to, sweetheart.”

——

Laughter filled the home. Loud and boisterous. A sound that had you beaming from ear to ear, shuffling about the kitchen as you familiarized with where Eddie preferred everything to go. Snacks away in the pantry. Cookies easily accessible in another cabinet in case he ever needed one (you didn’t question it). Placed various paper plates and napkins bought for the evening on the kitchen counter, the plastic utensils in a holder beside them, plastic cups face down nearby.

He made quick work of putting everything else perishable in the fridge, making sure to grab what you’d need for the cookies you decided to make. After perusing the aisles together for what felt like hours, the thought jumped to Eddie’s mind to bake.

A perfect bonding moment, he said, and he was right. There was no arguing about the intimacy of baking with one another. A fact made more prominent as he draped his little apron around his hips and grabbed a giant bowl, some mixing utensils, and a baking pan and placed them down in front of you.

While he did that, you rooted around for the ingredients you needed. Vanilla, flour, brown and white sugar, chocolate chips, eggs, cornstarch, salt and the like. The oven was preheated, the pans slicked, and prepped for baking.

Shoulders pressed together as the two of you worked in tandem. Tossing ingredients into a bowl, taking turns mixing, laughing as you accidentally flicked sugar over the lip of the bowl and a streak of white remained in its wake along Eddie’s abdomen. Tongue dipping out to drag along your bottom lip, you steeled your gaze up above, in the bowl, on the task at hand.

In another bowl, Eddie began mixing the flour, baking soda, and salt. Frantically, he’d done it so frantically, with his smirk you’d grown to love lining those perfectly plush lips. Laughter bursted up from deep within you, flour flicking across Eddie’s cheek at the jolt of the sound, his smile spreading wider as you paused in your own mixing and stepped closer to him.

He stilled on the spot, fingers twitching at his sides as your midsection bumped against the harder lines of his abdomen, palm reaching up toward his face.

At his raised brow, you whispered, “Got a little something…right here.”

A low sweep. Your finger arced in a low sweep against his cheek where flour had painted him a ghostly white. Dark eyes trailed your face, over the lines of your mouth, the fullness of your lips — then flickered up to your eyes, and you heard his breath as it faltered.

Cheeks burning, you whirled away, returning to your bowl. “I got it all. Good as new.”

He leaned in closer, bringing both bowls nearer to one another. “We mix the two now. And then it’s the chocolate chips.”

Watching as he did as explained, you reached across the countertop to grab the chocolate chips. Snipped the top edge off the package when Eddie instructed you to do so, and poured the contents within. Before long, you had a perfectly mixed cookie dough, ripe for baking.

“We’re not so bad at this,” Eddie mused once you began spooning small dollops onto the baking sheets strewn about the countertops. “Granted, it’s not parenting. But the working together thing — I think we’ve got it.”

“It’s baking,” you said, wrinkling your nose at his words.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he agreed, nudging you with his elbow, “but we communicated through every step, and I think that’ll come in handy.”

“If you’re trying to convince me into thinking you’ll be a good father, you don’t have to,” you said, laughing. “I already know you will be.”

He paused beside you, faltering in his movements, and you wondered if you said something wrong. “You think so?”

“I know so,” you promised, understanding from the look on his face, the nervousness in his eyes, the doubt that there was a deeper conversation to be had here. “You know that too, right? That you’ll be a good father.”

Eddie swallowed, mouth settling into a firm line. “I think I’m still trying to accept that this is happening a little bit. It’s only been a week or so. And I guess it’s probably a little different for me —”

“Because you haven’t seen them?” you asked, recalling at your last doctor’s visit he’d only gotten to hear the heartbeat. His only visual was residing on his refrigerator, in the form of a black and white photo he’d not been present for the taking of. “I feel like…it’s also different because I know they’re there. Always. I haven’t really felt them yet. Maybe a little here and there, but I’m not really sure — I just know they’re there. But you’ll get those moments too, you know? You’ll bond with them, Eddie. They’re going to love you.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he said softly, a little sadly, placing the baking trays into the oven and setting a timer for the allotted time.

“Hey, Eddie?”

“Yeah?” His head perked up, just as you flicked leftover flour at his shirt. “Oh, so it’s going to be like that, huh?”

“Like what?”

Your tone was teasing, light as Eddie backed you up against the counter, his front against yours, him reaching over your shoulder to grab a handful of sugar from an opened container. Heart hammering at his proximity, you allowed yourself a brief moment to relish in the feeling of his form pressed solidly against yours as he sprinkled the dusty sugar over the crown of your head.

“That’s rude, Edward.”

The man reached over your shoulder again and snatched chocolate morsels in his palm, popping one within his mouth. As your head leaned in, body still against the countertop, he took the hint and pressed two against your lips, grinning as your mouth parted just enough to slip them behind your teeth.

Like this, you could feel his breath against your lips. Could see the dark depths of his eyes, the little honeyed flecks that lay within. The dark swirl of his lashes, the arches of his cheeks, the little freckles you hadn’t even noticed the night he’d worshiped your body over and over again, the curve of his bottom lip, the pillowy nature of the top one.

“I’m really happy you —”

Eddie’s words were cut off by the doorbell ringing. Followed up by a swift knock against wood that had you shifting up and away from the counter. Eddie’s hands were there at your biceps to help steady you as your body swayed with the suddenness of your movement.

“That’ll be your friends,” you stated softly, dusting off the remnants of the sugar from your shoulders. “Introduce me, will you? Little nervous here.”

He rubbed at the soft of your shoulder. “Don’t stress about it. They’re gonna love you.”

——

Charmed.

All of his friends were charmed as soon as you’d walked in, holding a tray of various appetizers on a plate and settling them down on the coffee table, smiling prettily and laughing as one by one they’d introduced themselves.

Commented on how beautiful you were, how they couldn’t believe Eddie had ever had a chance, how you were glowing. And damn it, he’d never thought someone prettier than you looked at that moment. You had the room eating out of your palm in minutes, Jeff insisting you join in on the fun, nearly tugging you down onto the couch cushions beside him.

“Careful,” Gareth laughed, tossing a chip in his mouth, “Eddie’s got eyes on the back of his head these days.”

Eddie glanced over his shoulder to shoot a glare Gareth’s way. Noticed as Murphy slowly shifted on the couch as the night went on, as he leaned over and tapped you on the shoulder. Watched as your mouth softened a bit as he apologized, as the words he spoke rolled over the room. That he’d thought it was a terrible ploy when you’d called, that he didn’t mean anything by it, that he could never forgive himself for what he’d done.

When Eddie had gotten home the night he found out he was to be a father, he’d nearly booked another flight back out to California to demand answers.

Instead, the phone call came late at night, Gareth nearly half asleep when he picked up and Eddie growled down the line that someone had to speak up and fast.

Apparently, Murphy had truly thought it was a joke. A prank. Someone trying to foist off a baby on Eddie, just conveniently on the back end of their band appearing in the news as rising stars to watch, to try and obtain some money or notoriety. He’d been doing it out of ‘protection’ and to some degree he understood because of situations in the past and with other bands they’d seen in the business, but on the other he’d been robbed of time.

Precious time that had hurt you in the end. For two months you’d lived with the hurt and sting of rejection — with the thought he had wanted you to do this alone. That this was your cross and yours alone to bear. He hated that. Resented it because it reminded him of his late mother’s face, of the sadness she bore when his father had finally walked out and left them high and dry.

Murphy had cried, because he hadn’t known. Hadn’t known it was the same girl from the party. The fucker had cried and Eddie wanted to hate him, wanted to yell, wanted to shout because of it all — but he couldn’t. Because he pictured that little profile of a face on that black and white picture he’d tucked away in his coat jacket, he pictured your smiling face, closed his eyes and thought of that damn heartbeat and he knew he couldn’t.

Wayne raised him better. Wayne. When everyone else had walked out on him, his uncle remained.

But then you had to go and crush his heart further by leaning over and folding your hand over his bandmates, before dragging him closer for a tight hug, forgiving him.

It was hard being friends with you, harder living with you, when you just continued to do things like that. Loved those around you deeply, openly, even though you kept him at a distance.

Kept what he represented at a distance.

And he understood. Understood that with him it was different, the stakes were higher, there were other parties involved. It never stopped the wishing, the wanting, the waiting and wondering though. The ‘what ifs’ that kept him up at night, when you’d long since shut your bedside lamp, shrouding your side of the hall in darkness. But he respected your desires to keep things friendly for the sake of the unborn child. Understood that if this was what you thought best, he’d put aside his own feelings for the betterment of yours.

So for now he watched as his friends crowded around you. As they welcomed you with open arms into the band, as Jeff mentioned you should come over and meet his wife, June, and have dinner over their place soon. As Gareth invited you (overriding the fact Eddie was still Dungeon Master) to their next planned night (he wanted to ask you anyway). As Murphy waited on you hand and foot, making sure you never had to get up for the duration of the movie you all ended up watching, there with snacks and water at the ready.

And later, as the guys left and you fell asleep with your head on the armrest of the couch, Eddie tried to squash down the ache that formed in his chest when he rubbed your shoulder and your eyes fluttered open, your mouth rounding into a yawn, before settling on his dark stare.

Tried to suppress the affection that bubbled up as he helped you to your feet with a hand around yours, the furrow of your brow as you tugged a pillow close to your chest, the soft shuffle of your slippers against the carpeted floor as you both walked down the hall to your bedrooms.

“Goodnight,” you muttered with a soft wave.

It was a punch to the gut, the way you smiled at him in the night, the lamplight spilling into the hall shrouding you in a golden halo.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” He waved back and you turned in for the night, darkness shrouding your end of the hall.

He remained awake for hours.

——

A few days turned into another week.

You entered your nineteenth of pregnancy, tossed some clothes that no longer fit into a bin in your closet, and made room for newer things.

Life with Eddie became almost natural. An extension of what you’d known before with Robin. You came home every day to a cooked meal or takeout with him, shared about your days, watched movies and read books together, and slipped away at the end of the night. Every night.

He was easy to live with. Mostly cleaned up after himself (except for the hair he’d left to sit on the inside of the shower curtain some days and the numerous pots and pans he left out whenever cooking). But he’d been a perfectly wonderful roommate, and an even more caring friend.

You supposed part of that was the fact that, because you were growing his kid, he wanted to make sure you were both taken care of. Always asking if you needed snacks for the work day, if you’d drank enough water, gotten enough sleep.

Already concerned, and endearingly so.

A hum spilled from your lips. A familiar Madonna tune playing from the shoddy radio Eddie kept in the laundry room, connected to the garage. A laundry basket sat propped on one hip, as your hands reached down into the washing machine to pluck whites from within.

With a wrinkled brow, you held aloft one of Eddie’s white work tees. Now an interesting pink color, tinged like the numerous other shirts and socks strewn within. The further you dug, the more you found. A onesie for the baby, once white, now pink. One of your tank tops. The edges of some of your socks.

The culprit? A red pair of his boxers, tossed deep within the washing machine, the same color of rubies. A huffed breath spilled from you, laundry basket propped up on the drying machine before you slipped back down the hall from where you came and entered the living room.

He lay sprawled out on the couch, watching a movie, a pair of sweatpants hung low on his hips. His top half was covered in a black tee, and over that one of his red plaid shirts, which resembled that same pair of boxers you’d come to reprimand him about, caught up in the disarming sight that was always Eddie Munson.

That increasingly familiar head of dark hair shifted where his head lay propped against a couch cushion. Dark eyes framed by long lashes lifted to meet yours, the corners of his eyes wrinkling as he smiled up at you, holding aloft a bag of your favorite wavy potato chips.

He knew you’d been craving them and bought a few bags on the way home from work. Damn him for always knowing. A hand reached into the bag and pulled out a few, mouth watering around the salty goodness before you once again remembered why you’d come out of the laundry room to find him.

“Eddie, dearest.”

“Yes?” He lifted himself up at that, waving you over to settle down beside his hip on the couches. “Why do you have that look in your eye?”

“I get a look in my eye?”

“Yeah, it’s the ‘she’s going to kill someone’ look,” he explained, and it gave you pause, brow arching, “hey, hey. I can see that little wrinkle above your brow — don’t be upset with me now, sweetheart. You don’t do it often but I’ve seen it before. Like the other day when I used the last of the milk for my cereal.”

“Yeah, because you used the last of it on your second bowl when I hadn’t gotten any,” you said, brows furrowing higher on your forehead, “but I wasn’t really mad. I was just hungry — and I, well I — are you trying to say you think I’m mean?”

“Oh no. No no no,” he murmured, gathering your shoulders in his arms, tugging you into an embrace that you definitely didn’t protest. As your face pushed into his chest, you sighed, eyes on the television ahead, that extremely hormonal sadness roiling in your gut. “I know that look too. I don’t want you to be sad and cry over it. I’m only joking. What did I do? Be mad at me instead. Just don’t wanna see you cry; I hate that.”

“Left a pair of red boxers in the washer when I was doing whites,” you grumbled into his warm skin. “All our whites are now pink. Even the little baby clothes.”

He gasped, “Not the little baby clothes!”

“Edd-ie.” A whine spilled from you and he chuckled, the abruptness of his laugh jolting your head. A sniffle shook your form and Eddie hugged you tighter. “Gosh, I’m so backwards. Morning sickness? Supposed to be gone by now for most people, and I still have it. Crying at the drop of a hat in the first trimester? Try the second too. Whoever said this whole thing was beautiful hasn’t met me.”

“Hey now.” Eddie shifted you on his chest, finger tipping your chin up to look at the ridiculously goofy grin he had on. “Don’t be mean to my friend, okay? I happen to think she’s pretty fucking great. And she’s beautiful. Plus she’s making this whole growing a literal human thing look like a walk in the park.”

“You mean it?” Your head wiggled up along his chest, rumpling the fabric of his shirt, stopping at his collarbone.

“There are many things people have called me through the years, but I don’t think liar is one of them,” he said, and the sincerity lacing his tone had you easing against his chest, watching the people move about on the television screen. “Come on now. Grab that blanket and watch the movie with me. We can always get new stuff, don’t stress yourself out over my silly mistake. I’ll take care of it.”

Lifting long enough to grab the blanket in question, you reached over and draped it over both your thighs, head looming above where it had been against his collarbone. Eyes searched his face imploringly and he tucked you back down against him, exhaling deeply as you laid there, warmth seeping into his skin, the comforting weight of you against him welcomed there.

Friends cuddled, right? And you were great friends with Eddie Munson.

“What movie is this anyway?” you asked, reaching over for the VHS box settled near his opposite thigh. “Star Wars? What’s that?”

Eddie tensed. “Are you telling me you’ve never seen these? Am I about to take your Star Wars virginity?”

A giggle bursted free from your lips, hand coming to rest over his sternum, rubbing idly. “I’m kidding.”

“I was going to say we needed to fix that and have a full marathon. My kid is getting fed Star Wars even before they’re born.”

“We could still have a marathon,” you suggested, nuzzling deeper into his skin, body relaxing further. “It’s raining, I’m just doing laundry. Perfect day for it.”

He grinned to himself, ringed fingers coming to rest at the top of your head. “Sounds good to me, sweetheart. Now shh, I hate talking during movies.”

“Oh so he’s one of those. Filing that one away for later,” you teased, wincing as he flashed a glare your way.

But he smiled at you right after, and you didn’t know what to do about the stutter in your pulse that followed shortly behind.

——

[bettyshoweduptotheparty]

Midnights duality (part 2): Meet me at midnight

So, we’ve established that Midnights is the era where Taylor makes it known that there are two versions of her story, and that the prevailing narrative can’t be trusted and she’s letting a second (conflicting) narrative exist alongside it. This brings me back to the sentence that concluded the album announcement and opened the first track: Meet me at midnight.

Sounds so simple, right? But who are we meeting at midnight? It’s not the public Taylor, because we’ve known her for a while. So it must be the private one, the one that wears trainers and a T-shirt and bleeds purple glitter. Let’s meet her.

Where, other than in the mv, do we see this private Taylor? On the big screen during the Eras tour performance of Anti Hero. And what is she doing? Screaming and waving at us before she walks off in a huff. Guess no one was there to meet her…

She is also the one taking notes when performance Taylor is doing the teaching. I find it noteworthy that the public Taylor here is dressed in 1989 outfit and is holding the pointer stick in the same way she used to swing and hold the golf club in the Blank Space performance on the 1989 tour. She is also the one slut-shaming and bullying Taylor about her weight in the bathroom scene, two things we know were very prominent during the 1989 era so this ‘Anti Hero’ villain is her 1989 self, the height of her fame and perfectly crafted public persona. So this private Taylor that we are meeting is taking notes from her 1989 self. Interesting… And even more interesting that we are now getting a vault track on 1989tv called SLUT!. And I have just learned today that we are quite possibly getting a mv for this song… so would this be the place to meet our new Taylor? I think it’s a contender.

I have said in my post about the burning Lover house, that I take from the blue flames that 1989tv will move the narrative of this new Taylor forward quite a bit and as we are nearing the release (5 days to go as I’m writing this) I get that feeling more and more. Yes, I am not blind or deaf, I am very well aware that Taylor is currently doing her very best performance of NFL player’s gf, but I actually think that furthers my duality in public narrative and performance art point from part 1. Because, while I’m sure I don’t need to give you any examples of the excessive articles and media coverage of Taylor’s outings with either MH or TK, I just want to remind you of what other articles and media coverage has emerged in recent months, and this is not a story that would have made the NY Times or Cosmopolitan even a year ago.

Yep, Gaylor has entered the mainstream media. Not something that was on my 2023 bingo card, if I’m honest. Not even during the spring and summer of 2019, during Taylor’s soft launch phase, was her queerness this openly discussed in mainstream media. And not just as a general idea, some of the articles are linking her to very specific women in the past and, as if that wasn’t enough, the women in question have promptly appeared in public, either non-denying a relationship with her (looking at you DA), or showing up at her concert after a supposed years-long feud, adding fuel to the fire. And didn’t Taylor make a spectacle of looking lovingly up at Karlie in the stands at the last LA show, a show that she hyped up enough with 1989 announcement easter eggs that she could be sure everyone was watching. She wants to give this new narrative a platform. Yes, the straight girl pap walks are happening, but so is this. Pick your narrative. Especially the inclusion of Taylor in posts from official LGBTQ charities like Stonewall and Glaad seems significant to me, because they are non-profit organisations that are dedicated exclusively to preserving and telling queer people’s stories and would never risk their reputation or seriousness of their cause by participating in clout chasing or name dropping. And I know that these two things going on simultaneously seem super confusing, but I’m starting to think the confusion is part of the act. This is the tale of the two Taylors and it’s our job to work out which is which. The Stonewall Archive specifically tagged Taylor in their post about an exhibit on media coverage and public perception… they know something we don’t.

The re-emergence of pap walks alone is something I wasn’t expecting. Over the last 7 years we have known Taylor as a private person after her turbulent 1989 era. She was mostly quiet, stayed out of the headlines, no pap walks or public appearances outside of award shows and select performances. After all, reputation Taylor told us that the old Taylor died and the new version didn’t explain anything or show her face in public much. But 2023 Taylor has felt a lot like that old Taylor, right?? The pap walks, the girl squad, the high publicity romances… So, hasn’t Taylor learned her lesson from her 1989 self after all?

I think she has, but she wants the rest of the world to eat their words and see how ridiculous this is. Will this all be part of a Slut! mv? Maybe. Or it could be a way to distract the fanbase from something else that’s going on. One very notable difference in the pap walks now is how confidently herself she is when she’s photographed with her friends or going to the studio. Back in 2014 she would leave the gym looking like she was walking the runway with not a hair out of place, and now she is walking the streets of NYC looking queer as ever. (I swear she googled ‘How to look like a lesbian’ before picking that second outfit…) And I’ve seen how much it confuses the swifties. And I’m here for it 😋 Question though, if she’s going into the studio looking this gay, is the music coming out of these sessions going to be equally💅 ?

Something is brewing and 1989tv is the next thing on the horizon, so let’s look at that.

Midnight and Sunrise

Having been introduced to our new Taylor at the beginning of Midnights, she’s taken us through the main album, then the 3am bonus tracks, to the til dawn edition. With every new midnights edition we have worked our way through the night from midnight, to 3am, to dawn. So, next would be sunrise, right? And there have actually been a few mentions of sunrise and daylight in both the 1989tv marketing and other media coverage. I’ve spoken about the midnights to daylight theory before, as it’s one that many Gaylors have speculated on, but I think there has been quite a bit of movement on this recently.

Firstly, there is the yellow 1989tv vinyl that is conveniently named the ‘Sunrise Boulevard edition’. Not only does it have the word sunrise in it, it is also a direct reference to the Stonewall National Museum & Archive, which is located on this road in Fort Lauderdale, FL. And with the emergence of all the other variations of the 1989tv vinyl, it is easy to spot that they all have a sunlit beach theme (a big change from the OG 1989 city theme!) and with the recent leak of a purple version on the website of a record shop, we now have a full rainbow of 1989tv vinyls. Sunrise and rainbows… I think I have an idea where this may be going. But hang on, there is more.

Remember when I said that the Stonewall National Archive knows something we don’t? A few days ago, they posted this on their Instagram with lyrics from Taylor’s happiness, highlighting and italicising the word sunrise and pointing everybody’s nose in the caption to their address at 1300 E Sunrise Boulevard:

This feels VERY intentional. And I’ve never really looked at the happiness lyrics in that way, having taken the song to be about Scott B and her old label, but when Stonewall is using these exact lines in that context, with a strong suggestion that they have insider knowledge, it seems worth looking at them again.

In the caption, SNMAL say that they ‘celebrate the glorious sunrise of LGBTQ+ history’ with the pride flag and sunshine emoji. So, could it be that the Sunrise Blvd vinyl and accompanying rainbow variations of 1989tv are going to bring some kind of moment in history for LGBTQ people? It certainly sounds like this is about more than just Taylor. Perhaps furthering the theory that there may be a double album on the horizon with the second one being all collaborations. Stonewall also liked a comment on this post that said that something is in the air 🌈

They also included the line about flickers of light from the dress I wore at midnight. Flickers of light, as in glimpses of her queerness? The ones we are seeing now in all those articles are social posts? The mention of a dress immediately throws my mind back to the rainbow dress that Billy Porter ended up wearing at World Pride 2019, but that was almost certainly meant for Taylor. And out of all the photos of Taylor from the VMAs this year, which one did GLAAD choose to post on their Instagram in September? Yep, the one with Billy Porter. Takes me back to 2019… and something else does too, actually: The Cruel Summer live single release.

Cruel Summer was released as a single this June, 4 years after its initial release. And almost made it to No.1. It was certainly on the radio A LOT. The Lover set is also the opening act of the Eras tour, so this summer has certainly had some 2019 throwbacks. And remember how the Lover era started? With ME! Out now! on Lesbian Visibility Day, followed by the sunshine and rainbows parade that was the mv and (as we later learned from the documentary) 'Cats, unicorns and gay pride... things that make me ME.' And now, in October 2023, Taylor released a live version of Cruel Summer and used the very photo from the 2019 shoot as a cover for the single. And not only was that a 2019 photo shoot, it was the last photo she posted on her instagram in June 2019 before she was meant to wear the dress at NYC Pride. I think she captioned it something like 'calm before the storm'. And now that photo has made a comeback. If I were a betting woman...(and I've learned better than to ever make predictions when it comes to Miss Taylor Swift these days) but if I were I'd say it looks like she's taking another run at this. Meet ME at midnight...and then follow me into the daylight. ☀

And one more thing before I conclude this monstrosity of an essay, I found Taylornation's post for the midnights anniversary last week a bit mysterious:

It says 'Tonight we celebrate an album written by the one that could make us stay. After all the sleepless nights and friendship bracelets we've shared, we hope you know you're never really on your own, kid.' Sounds a bit like a pep talk (and a plea at the same time) to me. Why do the fans need reminding of the good times and be asked to stay? Where would they go and why?? And the first picture in the carousel is our girl 'home Taylor' from the Anti Hero mv, looking contemplative, maybe waiting for someone to come and finally let her out of that house. And the photo immediately after it is Taylor as we know her, smiling for photos with her fans at the movie premier. The two Taylors again...but one is in black and white and the other is in screaming colour 😉iykyk.

[frozenjokes]

CUBSCARIAN MINI GOLFING FIC WOOOOOOO YEAAAAHHA YIPPEEEEE WOOOOAAGAGG

Personally, Scar’s ideas of breaking down barriers of discomfort for the seeds of friendship to blossom and grow did not involve watching Cub blast a mostly naked Grian with a shower hose in their tiny bathtub but, well, Cub was already handing him the shower head.

Grian’s wings were fluffed out just about as big as they went, hair flat against his head from the moments Cub had ‘accidentally’ sprayed him in the face, these accidents lasting for seconds at a time before he’d move the jets back to Grian’s flaky wings. Scar hesitated, water ricocheting off the base of the tub while he tried to decide which areas of Grian’s wings needed the most work.

“Come on, Scar! I can take it!”

Cub snorted, unflinching when Grian flapped his wings and sent water flying everywhere in a torrential wave, Scar yelping in turn.

“Will you stop doing that!?”

“I’m taking my shirt off,” Cub deadpanned, though the end was drowned out by more of Grian’s shouting.

“I’m ready, Scar! I want it!”

“Don’t be weird about it!”

Cub mumbled something about a noise complaint while Grian opened his mouth to say something else, but only a sharp squawk left his throat when Scar lifted the shower head to spray his back with panicked non-accuracy.

“Cold!”

Standing near the faucet, Cub snickered.

And that’s how it went for the most part. After the shower fiasco which ended with Scar and Cub being just as drenched as Grian was, Cub set Grian up by a space heater, the other fanning his wings in the heat and basking with a small smile and closed eyes.

“He says he hates these days,” Cub mumbled, a similar smile threatening to cross his face, “but you should know he just loves to be pampered. He looks forward to it.”

“Watch it.” Grian said, but he did not turn around, nor refute any further.

Cub smiled for real then, but relaxed into a contented neutrality, eyeing Scar and speaking softer, “Thank you for coming. For coming back, even with.. I’m sorry, is all I mean. For pushing. I’m really glad you’re here.” If Grian heard, he didn’t say anything.

“It’s no problem at all! Really, this was a delight through and through,” Scar said, even though all three of them knew that was a flat out lie, but they lent him the favor of pretending, “I’m always excited to be invited over, always, always. A few bumps in the road changes none of that, nope! Just me, getting in my head.” Cub didn’t look entirely satisfied with that, but Scar didn’t particularly want to hear what he had to say on the matter, so he barreled on instead, “I’ll probably start heading out though! I take it you two will be fine on your own?”

“No!” Scar jumped when Grian shouted, Cub looking almost nearly as alarmed. “You’re not going anywhere, Scar, we need to go mini golfing!”

“I- Today?”

“Grian,” Cub sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “No, not today.”

“We have to! He’s never been!”

“I- I mean I wouldn’t be opposed!” Scar cut in, not wanting to squander this opportunity, “But Cub’s arm is broken- that wouldn’t be fair, you need both of those-“

“That’s exactly why we have to go now. I’ll never win if Cub’s in tip-top shape! You’ll never beat him either, Scar, we have to act immediately before it’s too late!”

“Is he that good?”

“My arm will still be broken tomorrow- Scar, just head out for now. Grian and I still have some work to do on his wings once they’re dry. The actual preening, straightening things out and applying all the oil and supplements to the feathers- it’ll be another hour at least, maybe two.”

“If I have to sit still for two hours I’ll kill you.”

Scar considered the room, Grian’s energy sticking to the air and riling Scar up similarly. Mini golf! They had to go! Though right now, he didn’t particularly want to stay for the preening. “Well, maybe I go home for a bit then, bring the extra waffles and return to pick you up later? We can get ice cream!”

“And mini golf!”

“Scar, you do not have to do this. Actually, I’m making the executive decision this is not happening today. We’ll see about tomorrow, I need to double check my work schedule.” Grian opened his mouth to protest, but Cub cut him off, “I don’t want to hear it. We will talk later.” And that was a little terrifying, but Grian only huffed, keeping whatever he had planned on saying to himself. Cub’s voice addressing Scar brought his attention back, “Go home. Rest up, and if you’re working tonight, then good luck. I’ll see you later.” Briefly, Cub held his hand, a little awkward, a little uncoordinated, but the gesture was there, and as the adrenaline of THING THING THING began to wear off, Scar appreciated his insistence.

“I’ll see both of you tomorrow,” Scar clicked his tongue with a short finger gun, and Cub rolled his eyes, Grian falling dramatically over as if he’d been shot.

“You’d better,” Grian said from the floor, ignoring the sharp look from Cub. Scar smiled, skipping to grab the extra waffles from the counter and heading to the door. This was good. Take a day, cool off, and tomorrow he could be back to business. Business- friendship. Project: Be Friends. Please.

///

“Scar, there is no reason ever that you should ever wind back that far for any reason in any mini golf course. Ever.”

Scar was getting the impression that this outing was becoming quite stressful for Cub, though he wasn’t quite sure why. He’d seen people golf before, he knew how it was meant to be done. At least Grian seemed to be having a good time, looking all amused and adorable with his delightful wing sweaters and funny little visor as all three of them lingered at the practice hole while Scar got his bearings. Actually, Cub had a visor too- they matched! Scar had never needed an article of clothing so badly RIGHT NOW in his entire life. No one told him there was a uniform!

“I’m feeling left out,” he sighed, swinging his club to a horrified inhale from Cub, the ball flying directly out of the brick edges that lined the green, hitting a metal fence post with a loud clang, then bouncing back on the concrete, back onto the green and directly into one of the three holes. Grian had stopped looking amused, a similar look of pale terror etched into his face. Scar didn’t see why. He’d done it! Not that this gave him any satisfaction, not when they were adorable and matching and he was sad and visor-less. What would the people think when they saw the three of them, Scar so utterly lacking in comparison. “I want a cute hat.”

“If you promise to never do that again, I will buy you as many cute hats as you want,” Cub breathed, looking very much like the many street cats Scar had approached too quickly, stomping in his excitement.

“You don’t have to buy for me. I just want to match.”

“You want a visor? Seriously?” Grian half-laughed, though some semblance of fear remained. Grian took his own off, twirling it around his finger before jumping on his toes to plop it right on Scar’s head. “There you go, bud.”

“No! But now you don’t have one!”

“I’ll survive.”

“You can’t golf without a visor,” Cub shrugged, Scar gasping at the same time Grian scoffed.

“Well it’s a good thing we aren’t golfing. Mini golf is a completely different ballgame. And you don’t need a visor to do it. I especially don’t need one to crush both of you.”

Cub rolled his eyes, “Sure, with my broken arm and Scar’s never having played before. Come back when the playing field is level and we’ll see how you fare.”

Grian huffed, “Obviously I can’t win if the playing field is level! That’s why we’re golfing now!”

“Mini-golfing.”

“Shut up!”

“Well I think I’m ready,” Scar cut in, not caring very much to listen to them fight, “Can we go to the first hole now?” The look both Cub and Grian gave him suggested they thought otherwise, but Grian broke the trance, shrugging as he spun his putter between his fingers.

“Why not. Let’s get this show on the road.”

The whole course was zoo themed and the first hole was no exception, meerkat statues ‘running’ across the way, their little leaps leaving room for a golf ball to roll under. Very cute, in Scar’s opinion, and he was eager to get started, readying his ball and just about to swing before Cub snatched his arms.

“Stop.” Cub looked like he’d seen a ghost, making Scar wonder if there was a spider or something on his shirt- was Cub scared of bugs? Behind them, Grian giggled, which Scar deftly ignored.

“Cubby, you don’t have to worry about any sort of creepy crawlies, I’m immune to most venom from most all creatures anyway.”

“What are you talking about- no, Scar, I’m going to teach you- Just stand still.” Scar didn’t get much of a choice as Cub manhandled him into a different position, but hey, he didn’t have any complaints about being touched. He hadn’t quite seen this side of Cub before, taking all this control. Silly, silly. “Scar, are you listening?”

No. “Yup!”

“Okay, well you’re going to stand just like that when you putt the ball. Mini golf isn’t about hitting it hard, it’s about control, and you can’t control the ball if you swing as far as you want to. Watch me, alright? I’ll show you how.” Cub set his ball down, standing just as he’d shown Scar and gently putting the ball right through one of the meerkats. It lipped the hole, rolling just inches away.

“Washed.” Grian snickered.

“My arm is broken.” Cub bit back, though it was good natured, rolling his eyes as he walked to the other side of the course, tapping the ball in. “Two.” He pulled a card out of his pocket, writing it down.

“You know, I could keep score this time-“ but Grian didn’t even get to finish.

“No.”

“Okay! My turn!” Without Cub in his way being silly, Scar was able to hit the ball properly, Cub letting out a startled shriek Scar had never heard before as the ball popped up off of one of the meerkats, moving the statue slightly off its post and bouncing back towards Scar at an odd angle. Scar yelped, bringing his club up in his defense, though he wasn’t quite fast enough to stop the club from hitting him in the face when the ball collided with it, leaving him too dazed to see it bounce back on the green, over each meerkat and directly into the first hole. Huh. Not bad! Grian and Cub were silent, Grian gaping while Cub just stared at the hole, face unreadable.

“I guess that makes two,” Cub said, finally.

Scar huffed, crossing his arms. “You guys are reacting like what I just did was not extremely fucking awesome.”

“It was lucky,” Grian spat back, though less vitriolic and more baffled, “Lucky you didn’t kill anyone, and even luckier you got it in the hole. I feel like this deserves some sort of penalty.”

Cub shrugged. “Besides crimes against god, nothing was technically wrong.. hit the club twice though. So two.”

“I am being seriously under-appreciated right now. That was not luck. Neither of you know what pure skill looks like.”

“Right,” Grian huffed, I’ll show you skill.” Grian set down his ball, lining himself up and putting just as Cub did, but this time, the ball went directly into the hole. “And there you have it.”

Scar clapped, which seemed to invoke some sort of confused reaction out of Grian until Cub tapped Scar’s arm, scowling, “Don’t feed his ego too much, he might just explode.”

“It was a good shot!” Scar felt the need to defend, though that simmered down when Grian sneered, snickering.

“Mhm!”

Scar was getting the sense that the two of them might be a little bit competitive. Oh well! With Scar between them, he’d make sure to keep the fun- the peace- whatever. And they were going to be so impressed with him. Socks knocked clean off. ‘Wow, Scar, you’re so awesome and you’re so good at golfing!’ Grian would say, swooning probably, and Cub would nod stoically like he was, but inside he would be going absolutely crazy over him, cartoon hearts and the like. Maybe Cub would hold his hand and not let go, even when it was Scar’s turn to golf, but that would be okay, Scar could work around the challenge. If his score paid the price, then that would have to be okay! But if he still excelled, Cub would be even more impressed, he’d lean in, give Scar a little peck on the cheek, tell him he’s pretty and perfect- Grian would tell them to get a room but internally he’d definitely be a little jealous because Cub has such a cool, awesome boyfriend. But that was okay, because in just a few days time Grian would approach him and say ‘Scar, you are my very best friend and I am madly in love with you and also Cub but also you,’ and Scar would go ‘Wow! I was thinking the same thing! This is awesome!’ (Scar wasn’t yet, but he would be, trust) and then Grian would go ‘Yeah! And also I’m sorry I said your merch was ugly, it’s not ugly it’s actually really cool and I think you should make a hOtgUy visor so all three of us can wear them when we go mini golfing,’ and then Scar would say-

“Scar. It’s your turn.”

Scar blinked when Cub addressed him, not remembering walking to the second hole. He and Grian were standing at the end, waiting, it looked like. Well! He didn’t want to slow them down! Scar set down his ball, striking it before Cub could finish yelling at him to stop and sending it richoshetting between three trees, bark splintering everywhere before the ball bounced innocently back onto the green. Unfortunately, it missed its mark by just a few feet, and Scar had to hit it five more times before getting it in. It was just hard to focus when Grian and Cub were staring at him like that! He found himself looking more at them than the ball!

“What the fuck.” Grian said, which Scar internally supplemented with ‘That was awesome!’

“..Six.” Cub mumbled after. Yeah. Not Scar’s most impressive showing. He’d get them next time!

Scar didn’t get the chance to ‘get them’ on his next turn, Cub nearly tackling him to the ground to stop him from hitting the ball and forcing him to do it the stupid way by attaching himself to Scar’s arms. A surprise kiss bought Scar enough time to shoot his shot on hole four, scooping Cub off his feet and hoisting him over his shoulder worked for hole five, though the distraction of Cub kicking and screaming led to three tries before he got it in. But picking Cub up wasn’t going to work for every hole, Scar needed Cub to see how cool he was, so for six and seven he convinced Grian to use Cub as a meat shield lest a stray ball kill him instantly (avians and their brittle bones, you understand). On hole eight Cub was too busy beating Grian with his club to stop a fantastic hole in one from Scar.

“No one is this lucky! No one! No one is this lucky!” Grian held his hair in fists after hole nine, but he was only coping because he was losing, and Scar continued on to hole ten unconcerned. It turned out winning was fun! Watching Cub and Grian shit themselves over his underdog sweep was deeply satisfying as well, a sort of sick enjoyment Scar didn’t find himself indulging in very often.

“I think I need to kill myself.” Cub said after hole thirteen, then spent Scar’s turns on holes fourteen through sixteen huddled in a ball on the ground covering his head with his hands.

“Cubby. Cubby Cub.” Scar picked him up under the arms holding Cub out in front of him. “It’s okay. No one’s going to hurt you. It’s cool, isn’t it?”

“You’re going to kill someone.”

“I’m not. It’s completely under control.”

“Nothing about this is under control. Nothing.”

“Come on, Cubby, humans are good at this kind of thing. Good at calculating how far something’s gonna go, knowing how hard to hit or throw to put a ball in a certain position. It’s not luck, Cub, our brains are doing all the work without us even realizing it! Isn’t that incredible? There’s a reason HotGuy never misses.”

“That is just not true, HotGuy misses all the time,” Grian cut in, but Scar waved him off.

Cub drew his hands over his face, straining, “You’re not- none of that is necessarily untrue, but brains are not that precise. Humans are not that precise. No one is that precise. Not only that, but no one thinks multiple steps ahead, you have no idea what’s going to happen after the ball hits that first tree- first statue- anything.”

“I do!”

“You don’t.”

“I do. You just watched me for like an hour. You have no idea the kind of things they did to me.”

…

……

“That sounded more ominous than I intended. I didn’t mean that in a bad way. I just meant that they experimented on me like. A lot. Even on parts of me that weren’t affected by the accident, they kinda thought I was going to die or at least not wake up again, so..”

…

Scar grimaced. “That makes it sound worse.”

“Sounds just as bad as it is, bud,” Grian mumbled, which didn’t help to ease any of the tension at all.

“This is stupid! It’s fine!” Scar dropped Cub, the other stumbling on his feet, “They made me cool. I can do cool shit now! I can make mini golf trick shots and impress my friends and win games and shoot bad guys and the whole world can watch me and love me for it.”

Scar huffed in the following silence, frustration pulling the threat of tears, but he couldn’t let that stop him, he wouldn’t, because he was going to show them that this was worth it. He set the ball down.

“I’m going to hit this ball. It’s going to roll up the truck of that elephant, knock the branch up there, fall back toward me, I’m going to hit it again, midair, it’ll pop up, land directly into the hole, then bounce right out, and I’ll have to hit it one more time to get it in the hole. Which makes three, by Cub’s reasoning. Could do one, but I’m not trying to bore you.”

“Scar, you don’t have to-“

Scar swung. He missed. He swung again. The ball careened up the trunk, hitting the branch above and slowing its descent back toward Scar, just like he knew it would. He swung up, hitting the ball once more with the blunt of the club, launching it skyward until something squawked. And then someone else squawked when the ball, lightly bloodied, hit Grian square in the head.

“Fuck!”

“Shit-“ Cub said at nearly the same time, going to Grian while Scar stood in a stiff silence. Scar wasn’t looking at Grian.

It was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Unlucky, that Scar hadn’t noticed it. Unlucky, that Scar had missed the first swing.

It was an accident.

A sparrow. An unremarkable bird really, a pest to many. That being said, most people were unremarkable, weren’t they, their value weighed only in what others thought of them, in the money those that loved them held. How much was this bird valued? It was risky business, that, being valued. It’s human nature to want it, to crave adoration and security from the world around you. It’s also possible to be loved too much. Or.. Was that really love?

It was a good thing this bird died instantly. Or else someone might come along and try to save it.

Scar spotted his ball, brightly colored out of the corner of his eye. It was a tough shot; it had landed in the grass. He figured he could get it in safely in two hits. He walked past Grian. One. Back on the green, close but not too close to the bricks that lined it. Two. Right in the hole.

“That makes four,” he called, with little heart. Grian puffed up, looking ready to bite back, but stopped short when he met Scar’s eye. He backed off. Lowered his wings. God that just made Scar angry.

“You’re losing.” Scar sneered, similar in tone to Cub and Grian’s banter, but he had yet to engage directly until now, “Even Cub’s beating you, and he’d have to really fudge the last hole for you to bring it back.”

Neither of them responded. Grian didn’t even flinch, eyes only narrowing gently, glancing to the side, like he was looking for an escape. It wasn’t fun. It wasn’t fun anymore. That- That was so- Stop it! Just stop staring and make it fun!

Scar wasn’t sure what to do when Cub approached him, he wanted to fight, he just wanted to fight and scream and kick it all out, but he wasn’t ready for a hug, arms hanging loosely in Cub’s quiet embrace.

“Let’s go home, Scar.”

“No! No, I don’t want to go! I want to play! I want to keep playing! This was good- we were having a good time until I- until I-“

“Scar.” Grian cut in; he’d gotten closer, since when had he gotten closer? “It’s okay.”

It wasn’t okay. Nothing about this was okay.

“It’s pretty hot out,” Cub mumbled, letting go, and Scar wanted to scream, “I don’t really want to hang around.”

“It’s one hole! One more hole! Can’t we just play the last one?”

“You want to?” Grian frowned, an expression that made Scar just about ready to rip apart his own chest (Nothing they couldn’t just put back together anyway).

“I want to. Please.”

It wasn’t fun. Nothing about it was fun, not hitting the ball normally, not watching Cub and Grian take their turns, not even winning. It all fucking sucked. The ball return was a little fun. A small percent chance to win a coupon back. None of them won. The car ride home was so damn awkward Scar wanted to throw himself out the window and lay in the road, but it was short enough, and Grian seemed to be in a similar boat, scrambling out of the car like his life was on the line. Cub didn't leave though. Cub stayed right where he was in the back seat, hand finding Scar’s in the passenger’s.

“I care about you, Scar. Don’t say anything. Listen. I care about you.”

Cub paused, almost as if waiting for Scar to speak, but he had told Scar not to, so he didn’t. The silence lasted.

“My caring about you isn’t conditional on superhero bullshit or mini golf trick shots, Scar. I don’t really care about that stuff. Like, cool Scar add on I guess, but I’m not going to stop liking you if you suddenly couldn’t do those things anymore. I like you because you’re goofy. I like you because you love everyone unconditionally, and that makes me feel good, it gives me some sort of hope for the universe, that losers in their thirties can still be swept off their feet by quite frankly insane strangers for inane reasons even if they don’t smile or make eye contact or Are Grian. There are people out there that will still love them. Fight for them. Even if those passionate, lovely people have a host of other issues and are in desperate need of therapy.”

Scar swallowed. “Grian said that to me a while ago. That I should go to therapy.”

“You should.”

“I’ll think about it.

“No.”

“I- no?”

“You’re going.”

“I’m going?”

“You’re going.”

…

“Okay.”

[kdinjenzen]

just saw your post about how Golden Sun is on the switch now. would you be cool with telling us more about it?

(i struggle to get into media that is new to me without knowing a bit about it first, and it's usually best when i hear it from someone who loves the media in question)

Golden Sun began as a two-part Game Boy Advance JRPG series starting with 2001's "Golden Sun" and ending the first arc with "Golden Sun: The Lost Age" in 2002. The second arc of the story began with "Golden Sun: Dark Dawn" on the Nintendo DS released in 2010 and is the last title in the series to this date with an unfortunate "The End?" cliffhanger suggesting the closure of the series as a whole would come with a FOURTH game to be released at some point in time. To this day there has been no true word on a fourth title to finally finish the series.

The Golden Sun series of games were developed by Camelot Software whom originally were a Sega Only Developer specifically focusing on the "Shining" series starting with Shining in the Darkness in 1991 and ending with Shining Force III in 1998.

Camelot Software then became a Second-Party Development Studio for Nintendo focusing on the Mario Sports series of titles including both the home console and handheld versions of these games, beginning with Mario Golf in 1999.

Camelot Software was also the creator of the Waluigi character who first appeared in Mario Tennis in 2000. (They also created both the UNSEEN version and now KNOWN versions of Wapeach for Mario Tennis and Power Tennis respectively.)

The game series was created with the intent of allowing Camelot to get back to their roots or more RPG style games and to bolster the Nintendo IP owned roster with diverse gameplay titles. Much of Golden Sun's style can be seen in Camelot's older "Shining" titles with a more evolved and "of the era" style. Golden Sun was originally being conceived as a Nintendo 64 title before it was revealed that the Game Cube would be releasing soon and the N64 would be sunset. Development then moved to the GBA.

Originally Golden Sun and The Lost Age were intended to be ONE GAME, but the cartridge space on the GBA was too small and would need far more memory to whole the full game so the idea to split it in two was devised to create a much more well rounded story, give devs more time to finish the latter half of the game, and get the first title out sooner.

Golden Sun (as a series) is fairly simple and follows more traditional JRPG standards of turn based battles, a party of four characters, elemental magic, leveling up, and various collectable armors and creatures to enhance characters in and out of battle.

Elements are a key point to both gameplay and story as the world is inhabited by a small amount of "Adepts" whom can control these elements based on four types: Wind, Earth, Fire, and Water.

Djinni, small elemental creatures, can be found all over the world that will add new abilities and skills to the party's Psynergy (the game equivalent of magic spells) as well as used as parts of larger summons.

The main plot of the first title follows Isaac and Garet, years after the tragic loss of Isaac's father and their mutual friend Jenna's brother and parents being killed in a storm, as they learn more about their town, the world around them, psynergy, and the history of Mt Aleph's Sol Sanctum (a temple hidden within mountain near their small village) from one of the village's historians Kraden.

After opening up Sol Sanctum they are approached by two people who were part of the cause that ended up taking the lives of Isaac's dad and Jenna's family, a third masked figure, and their presumed fourth partner who are currently hunting for the Elemental Stars in an effort to light all the Elemental Lighthouses and releasing the power of Alchemy and Psynergy (again, the game's magic system) across the world which could be potentially disastrous.

After most of the Elemental Stars are stolen, Jenna and their teacher Kraden are kidnapped, Garet and Isaac meet "The Wise One" (a giant floating rock with an eyeball) who tasks them to stop the opposing party of four before they can attain their goal and quite possibly doom the world.

Along this journey they are eventually joined by Ivan, a young Wind Adept, and Mia an expert healer and Water Adept. Between these two and Isaac, an Earth Adept, and Garet, a Fire Adept, the party is able to round out with the full elemental psynergy roster.

They end the first game with a cliff hanger that directly and immediately starts back up with Golden Sun: The Lost Age.

The Lost Age features 4 new party members, who you do meet some of in the first game (no spoilers), and eventually the two teams of four merge into a team of 8 (two of each elemental type) - the groups combine their powers and the first arc ends.

Dark Dawn, the DS title, takes place 30 years after the end of The Lost Age and primarily follows around the children of the protagonists from the first two games going on an adventure that started far before their birth with something that happened at the end of The Lost Age.

Each game features both in and out of combat use of Psynergy. For combat it's as simple as attack/defend/buff/heal/etc. Outside of combat certain elements of Psynergy are used to solve puzzles in various ways from growing plants, pushing large stones, reading character's minds, blowing away objects with great winds, freezing water to create new platforms, etc.

The game features lots of fun collectables, side-quests, world building events, optional dungeons, and more.

I could go on and on about this series more, but that would involve a TON of spoilers so like... GO PLAY THE GAMES! THEY ARE VERY FUN!

[whowilllbringtherain]

OUR LOVE IS BORN

Masterlist

Chapter 6 ~ Bad Day

Content Warnings: Exam stress, mentions of nightmares, descriptions of violence and injury from car accident, flirting, anxiety, anxiety attack, major anxiety, near car accident, reckless driving, dangerous driving, extreme anxiety, panic attack, hyperventilation, unintentional self-harm, blood, crying, disorientation, mentions of car accidents, comfort.

The next five weeks flew by, and before I knew it, we were trudging through the muddy depths of exam weeks.

Time was too scarce for sledding or picnics, and we were forced to watch the beauty of winter from indoors, studying for our exams.

The stress of it all was not helping with my nightmares, and I often found myself lying awake at night, unable to close my eyes and struggling to force out the feeling of asphalt against my cheek as I stared at the wreck of cars before me, thick red oozing from my body.

I thought I lost my leg after catching sight of the volume of blood spilling onto the floor beneath me.

The aching reminder had reappeared too, as I'd picked up my favourite pastime of running, which only worsened my condition, leaving me with discomfort every time I took a step.

Josh and I hadn't been speaking as much as we used to due to our busy schedules, and I began to realise that we only spoke on our drives to and from school.

I hadn't seen Mum for all five weeks. We never spoke after our fight, and the only way I knew she still came home after work was the evidence of a growing wine stash in one of the kitchen cupboards.

Dad and I however, were closer than ever, and prior to my busy study schedule, we spent a lot of time together baking, listening to music, and he occasionally joined me on a run.

Dad was also in a much better headspace, as he was shortly hired by a record company for work. He'd taken up golfing in his free time too, and I knew he'd made some friends doing it.

In essence, I was in a kind of middle space, between happy and miserable. Never quite fulfilled due to the raging thoughts that rampaged through my mind, yet comfortable with the idea that everyone around me was doing well.

It was an oddly warm day that we'd decided to go to the library to study. Josh, Jake, Sam and Danny were all keen on the exploring Saginaw for a day, with the guilt free justification that we were studying too.

Dad and Mum were going on a date night too, meaning I could stay out late and not face the wrath of a worried parent.

It was safe to say I was feeling exited.

I slipped on some black jeans, paired with a light grey half zip Ralph Lauren sweater, with a tote bag hanging from my shoulder. Bubbles of excitement boiled in my stomach, as I hadn't spent proper time with any of the boys in a while, and I couldn't wait to laugh with them all.

After checking that my bag had everything I needed one last time, I bounded down the stairs, bidding Dad a cheery goodbye and slipping on my shoes, before making my way across the path to their house.

I had braided my hair into two parts today, and I loved the way they looked draped over my shoulders, with small bows tied to the hair ties at the bottom, and stray hairs falling over my face.

The Kiszka house was chaos when I walked through the open door. Karen was screaming at one of the boys, and in the mess of movement I couldn't tell who. Sam and Jake were arguing over a shirt they both wanted to wear, and I assumed Josh was inside the bathroom that Ronnie was pounding a fist on angrily.

I stood awkwardly by the door, not wanting to intrude as I watched the madness unfold.

"Out of the kitchen right now or I'm burning that God-damned shirt so that neither of you can wear it!" Karens voice boomed through the house, and Sam and Jake came sulking towards my line of sight, still bickering under their breaths.

"And I'm older than you," Jake remarked, but Sam had noticed I was standing there and wandered over to me with a goofy smile on his face.

He threw an arm around my shoulder, "Layla, don't you think this shirt would look much better on me than Jake? I mean, the blue was just made for my beautiful, fair complexion," Sam lifted the denim blue shirt up between us, waving it around with exaggeration.

Jake threw a shooing hand up to Sam, "For fucks sake, just take it Sam, I don't even care," he huffed, before walking up to me and ruffling the hair on my head, sticking his tongue out and blowing a wet raspberry.

I glared at him and flattened my hair back down, "Gross."

He smirked as he sauntered off to his room.

"Josh, I swear to god if you spend one more minute-" Ronnies voice boomed down the hallway, as the click of the door sounded, and Josh walked out, smirking with a cocky hop in his step as he shimmied his shoulders in Ronnies face. After spotting me, his smile widened to his eyes and he make quick pace to reach me.

Danny rounded the corner, offering me a sweet smile which was shortly followed by a yawn, "I don't know how much study I'll be able to get done. I'm exhausted," he said, and I noticed the sleepy droop of his features.

"That's because you guys went to bed like, an hour ago," Josh commented, and I inferred that Danny must have slept over the night before.

Sam clapped and punched his fits outwards as he slipped on the blue shirt, leaving majority of the buttons undone, "Not me! I feel fresh as a daisy."

"You both better go to bed early tonight, I swear to god I can't deal with you keeping me up for two nights in a row," Josh complained sending them both a pointed look.

It took another half hour before all the boys were coordinated and ready, and finally, we piled down the highway towards Saginaw.

I sat in the backseat with Sam and Danny, and spent the ride watching the world pass by through the window, trying to distract myself from the familiar feeling of sitting in the backseat of a car, as the memory of my nightmare last night crept into my mind.

I occasionally caught Josh's eyes in the rear view mirror, but would quickly look away shyly.

Once we'd arrived, the group clambered into the library building, which had an old fashioned style to it. Antique wooden furniture littered the spaces, and rows of shelves were pressed against the walls.

I inhaled the comforting smell of books, and followed after the boys as they claimed a table to study on. I took a seat between Josh and Danny, before taking my laptop, notebooks and textbooks out of my bag to begin studying.

I was positive I got the most work done out of the group, as none of the boys could go longer than fifteen minutes without getting distracted by one another and becoming lost in conversation.

I was particularly deep in researching the metabolic rate of aerobic-based athletes, when someone tugged lightly on my plait. I looked up and realised that everyone had left the table. Books, pens and laptops were scattered over the table in a mess of knowledge, but every seat was empty.

I tossed my head around aimlessly, hoping to spot them all by the bookshelves, but nobody was there, save for an older man who was flipping through a worn, brown book in a leather seat nearby.

Deciding I was too busy with schoolwork to join in their childish games, I turned back to my work and typed notes onto my laptop, highlighting a few things here and there from my papers on the desk.

Another soft pull on my braid had me huffing in frustration, pausing the quick movements of my hands to turn around. Josh's retreating body, which I assumed was attempting to be swift and sneaky made me huff out a laugh, along with the sight of the boys peeking out from behind the bookshelves, clearly over studying and enjoying their time annoying me instead.

I sent a glare their way, and went back to my work, hoping that this time they knew I was serious.

About five minutes later, someone tapped me on the shoulder, and I whipped around angrily.

"I swear to God, Josh-" I whisper-yelled. Yet the face I was met with when I looked up wasn't Josh. And it wasn't any of his brothers either. Instead, the girl I had met on my first day of school stood beside me, a look of shock and regret on her face.

"Oh I'm so sorry!" I rushed out, still trying my best to keep my voice at a minimum in the void silence of the room. "I thought you were someone else, it's great to see you again...Aanya, was it?" I asked, sending her a look of apology.

She smiled warmly, "That's okay, and yes that's me, Layla, right?" she asked and I nodded. "Well I was just coming to ask if you could help explain something for me for the art exam... but if you're busy I totally get that, I don't want to ruin your flow or anything."

"No, no, no, you're totally fine," I said, pulling Josh's chair out from next to me and gesturing for her to sit down. I pulled out my art books and got the documents up on my laptop, "What did you need help with?"

We spent the next ten minutes discussing the art exam, and another ten minutes sketching out ideas as I tried my best to explain to her the concept of constructing form. As we spoke, I realised how nice it was to talk to another girl in our year, seeing as I hadn't made any friends yet, other than the Kiszka's. Her girly comments made me feel giddy and exited, and I realised very quickly how nice of a girl she was.

Both of us zoned out once we had began sketching, becoming intensely involved with the pen on paper, a sense of meditative relaxation and peace washing over me in the silence of the room and my mind. That was, until a pair of hands landed on my shoulders making me jerk upwards and streak a line of lead across the white of my paper. Aanya's head popped up in surprise too.

"When were you gonna introduce us to your friend?" Josh's voice drifted next to my ear.

I turned around and smiled at him, "Oh hey, this is Aanya. Aanya, this is Josh."

Aanya said a quick 'hello' and Josh smiled kindly at her, before all the other boys made their way over, disrupting our silent peace completely. Everyone introduced themselves in a quick flurry of names, that I was sure Aanya would not remember.

"Wow this is great, did you draw it?" Danny asked, picking up Aanya's paper.

"Oh yeah," she quickly snatched it from his hand and placed it facedown on the desk, "It doesn't look to great cause it's not finished yet," she blushed.

His eyebrows furrowed, "No way, that was amazing, you're very talented," he replied softly and Aanya blushed. I glanced at Josh with my eyebrows raised and he looked down at me, still leant on my chair with his hands, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Righty then are we gonna get the hell outta here or what?" Sam spoke suddenly, clapping his hands together.

"Yeah, it's so sad in here I'm getting depressed," Jake commented, running a lazy hand over his face.

I laughed a little but bit my lip, "I just wanted to write a few more notes for my English essay, I promise I wont be long," I said, turning back to my desk and opening up my laptop again. The others moved off huffing, but I could feel Josh's presence behind me still.

He placed his warm hands on my shoulders and began to massage, kneading out the tightness of my muscles, and nearly making me drop my head forward in pleasure.

He leaned down close to my ear, "Don't you think you've worked hard enough for one day?"

I somehow managed to mumble an ‘uh-uh’as I shook my head side to side, struggling to move my fingers across the keyboard.

"C'mon. You overwork yourself too much, lets go buy some cool shit," he gave my shoulders one more releiving squeeze before shaking me to regain my consciousness.

I shook my head to refocus, and sucked in a deep breath, "Okay fine, lets go." The boys all rushed to pack up their things, and I stretched over the back of my chair, hitting a particularly blissful spot on my back.

"Wanna come with us?" I asked Aanya, who had resumed her drawing, "We're gonna go around to some thrift shops I think, just explore the city a bit."

She contemplated it for a moment, her eyes flicking over to the group of guys, catching on Danny, who as if on queue looked up to her stare, before she quickly looked back at me with a blush.

"I don't know..." she trailed off shyly.

I smiled, "I'd love for you to come, please? It would be nice to have another girl around for once." We both laughed and she agreed, packing up with the rest of us and following as we all piled out of the building.

"Sun!" Josh yelled once we had stepped onto the street, his arms reaching up into the air, and head tilted back as if he was having a spiritual cleansing. I laughed, and made my way next to him for the short walk to the first shop we encountered.

It was a small, minimalist style business, with an eerie silence, and the air conditioning on far too cold. They sold trinkets like hair clips, and belt buckles and scarves, but the boys didn't last long in the noise quashing environment, and we were soon back out on the street.

We stopped by a small sandwich vendor for lunch, standing in almost complete silence in the street as we all stuffed our faces with replenishments before setting off again.

The next shop we visited seemed much more promising. It was a small hole in the wall, with an archway entrance. I was immediately met with dim lighting, scarves and other sheets hung and strewn around the ceilings and walls, wrapping around the warm, buzzing lightbulb. The unmistakable voice of Jim Morrison was playing softly through a speaker somewhere, and I could hear some metal chimes tinkle from the wind in the doorway.

The man at the counter lifted his head at our presence, and I admired his curly head of hear and mustache. I wondered if Josh would ever grow a mustache like that.

"Hey guys, can I help you with anything today?" he asked.

"We're just gonna have a browse if that's aright," Jake responded, and the worker nodded, smiling kindly before retuning to whatever task he was working on.

The shop was small, yet we all naturally drifted apart to look at seperate sections, and I soon found myself lost in a rack of clothes, with a pile of jackets, tops and jeans thrown over my forearm.

"What do you think about this one?" Josh asked, and I turned to my left to see him smiling brightly, with a thick red beanie mounded on his head with a few of his little curls peeking out the edges.

I scrunched my nose up, unable to contain a smile, "So cute, Joshy," I reached over and grabbed a chunk of his smily cheek like a grandma. He shook me off playfully, laughing as he slipped the beanie off his head and fitted it onto my own. I posed in front of him, putting on my sharpest model face ironically.

He took a step back with his hands propped on his hips as if to admire his work, "Wow. There is no way this beanie isn't going home with you."

I smiled, "Does it look good?" I asked, wandering over to the small mirror situated in the corner of the shop.

"You look beautiful in it," he said quietly, and I watched in the mirror as he peeked up from behind me, his hand hesitating to touch my arm as it hovered absently beside it. I smiled into the reflection, unable to take my eyes off Josh and wishing he would just reach out and touch me.

"Layla! Do you think this dress would fit me?" I heard Aanya call from the other side of the room. I awkwardly smiled at Josh, slipping the beanie off and placing it back into his hands before making my way over.

After a rough hour in the same shop, we left with a bag of clothes each, smiling like children at our buys, as we made our way down the crowded street.

"I can't believe those boots were in my size. I saved a ton," Aanya remarked, in reference to a pair of white cowboy boots that she was going to spend a hefty amount of money on online.

"I know, you're so lucky you hadn't bought the expensive pair online already," I answered, squinting as we walked towards the bright sun.

"Yeah... I can't wait to see you wear that white dress, you looked like Stevie Nicks reincarnated," she joked.

"Which dress?" Josh asked, shamelessly eavesdropping on our conversation.

"I'll show you later," I said, only hearing how domestic the statement sounded after the words had escaped my lips. I blushed, looking away to the busy road beside us.

I watched in silence as the cars drove by on the street while the others talked beside me. And as if the universe was out to get me, I caught sight of a car which recklessly merged into another cars lane without indication, almost causing an accident.

It was insignificant and unnoticeable if you weren't paying attention, so nobody paid it any mind but me. A pit of anxiety began to swirl in my stomach and something inside me tensed. It took everything in me to force the negative thoughts from my mind, trying my hardest to ignore the ache in my thigh.

"Alrighty, next stop!" Sam yelled as he swiftly turned into another shop perched on the corner of the street. Stepping in, I sighed at the sight of vinyl shelves, which reached down into the long, hearty depth of the store. A few others mingled already in the isles, as we excitedly made our way through them.

I found it interesting to watch which genre called to everyone, as Danny was drawn to the folk section, Sam to the jazz, Jake to the rock, Aanya to the alternative.

Josh remained glued to my side, "So, where do you wanna look at first?" he asked.

"Oh, you don't have to follow me," I urged, feeling guilty that I may be keeping him from his own interests.

He smiled, "I want to." He placed a hand on the small of my back and gestured a hand forward, "Lead the way."

Josh and I exhausted the blues genre within minutes, each with a couple of sleeves tucked under our armpits as we made our way to the next section.

"No way, I've been looking for this everywhere," Josh exclaimed, pulling out a yellow and black vinyl from the shelves.

I wandered over to hm, looking at it curiously, "What is it?" I asked.

"It's this band called Amanaz, this is the only album they ever did called Africa. Some great stuff on here," he said excitedly, slipping it under his arm. "Whatcha got there?" he asked, nodding to the vinyl in my hand.

I held a finger out towards him, indicating he had to wait a moment, as my face contorted grotesquely and I shot out a muffled sneeze into the corner of my arm.

I sniffed and apologised before I lifted it up in front of us, "It's a Lynard Skynard album I've not heard of before. I'm trying to decide if I should risk the buy or not," I pondered. Josh took the vinyl from my hand, flipping to the back and reading contents.

He rose his eyebrows and nodded his head, "Theres a few songs I recognise on here, I say buy it."

I winced, "But I've already got three I wanna buy, and I don't wanna go over my budget. I'll just have to chose one to get rid of," I said bashfully, a bit embarrassed of my very low bank balance.

Josh hummed, "Let me know which ones you end up going for." He then resumed his casual browsing of the store.

In the next ten minutes, I had sneezed about twelve times, and was starting to get very annoyed.

"Are you alright? You're not sick, are you?" Josh asked after I sneezed again as we made our way into an isle that Jake was in, filtering through a rack of vinyl.

"Yeah, no I feel totally fine, it's just my nose, I don't now what's up with it," I said, squeezing my nose with my fingers to try and ease some of the itchiness.

"Hey," Jake said once we were next to him. I returned to looking through the albums, when Jake's obnoxiously loud sneeze gave me a fright.

"My God, do you really need to sneeze so loud?" I asked, looking around to see if anyone heard.

"Sorry," he said bashfully, "The dust in here is really pissing me off."

Josh patted us both on our shoulders, "Hmm Layla, you must be allergic to dust then."

I furrowed my eyebrows at his comment, "What? No I'm not."

"Jakey is though, and you've both been sneezing like lunatics since we got in here," he commented. They both looked at me with a knowing stare and I sniffled.

"That sucks I thought I wasn't allergic to anyth-" I interrupted myself with another sneeze.

"Okay, lets get out of here," Josh stated, dragging us both along with him to the payment counter. I had ended up putting my Lynyrd Skynyrd vinyl back, and opted for my original pick of three, paying the polite cashier, before letting Jake do the same. Josh had gone to collect Sam, Danny and Aanya, and returned back moments later with them all, the boys with a pile of at least ten records each.

In fact, the volume of all of their purchases made me begin to wonder how much they must be getting paid at their small gigs.

Once we'd left the store, we all decided that we had had enough for the day and were ready to go home, however, the boys needed to stop by the grocery store to buy some ingredients for dinner.

I bid goodbye to Aanya, promising to find her on Monday for art class that we apparently had together unknowingly. She smiled shyly at the rest of the boys before leaving, and I didn't miss the pink tinge on Danny's smiley cheeks when she told them she'd see them on Monday too.

We decided to drive the distance to the grocery shops, not wanting to have to carry the bags across Saginaw to where we had parked, and despite the familiarity of having Josh drive me around, I felt a surge of anxiety at the thought of being in the car.

Josh insisted that I sat in the front seat this time, and as I clipped on my seatbelt, I found myself needing to take deep breaths to calm my racing heart. My nails picked at one another while everyone got in and buckled up for the ride, and as we pulled out of the parking lot, I had to force myself to look at my hands in fear of seeing a moving vehicle outside and setting off a panic attack.

All I could picture in my mind was the near accident I had witnessed, and my mind morphed the memory to show a horrific scene of a violent accident.

"You alright over there?" Josh asked, and I glanced up at him slightly, unable to form a coherent string of words, as I merely nodded my head and sent him a tight lipped smile. My jaw was tight and my leg bounced in the seat.

I felt terrible, knowing it was close to impossible for Josh to not see that something was wrong, which was completely unfair to him. He had done nothing to make me afraid in the car with him, yet my nerves were firing mercilessly, my mind going haywire.

I felt the ghost of an ache in my thigh, teasing me, like my body was testing its own mental limits. My fingers tightly kneaded into the muscles, desperately trying to reach the bone where the ache stemmed from.

Regrettably, my eyes wandered to the windscreen, where the car piled down a busy road, other vehicles passing our left and I was unable to look away, fixated on the traffic in fear of collision.

The music in the car swelled, and the volume of speech in the car rose, and my heart thrummed in my ears. I missed the days that I could sit in a car without worries, feeling safe enough to relax and enjoy myself.

That part of me had been ruined.

"You coming?" Josh's words broke me out of my thoughts, and I looked around to find we were already parked in the grocery parking lot. I could see the rest of the group walking into the store.

I must have dissociated for the rest of the ride.

"Yep," I choked out, quickly jumping out of the car and speeding towards the store. I could feel Josh following silently behind me, concern radiating from his body.

I ignored him, keeping my head down and following after the group of boys in the store.

My mind ran through the lists of anxiety and PTSD coping mechanisms I was given by my post trauma therapist in Australia, yet it seemed that all I could focus on was the sensation of being trapped in a flipped car, blood rushing to and out of my head.

"Reckon Mums gonna check the receipt?" Sam asked the group, "We could sneak some snacks in here, I doubt she'd realise," a sly smile playing at his lips. Jake smacked the back of his head.

At some point during the shopping trip, Danny stood beside me, where I had a safety gap between me and the group, feeling overwhelming bouts of anxiety for the car ride home.

He crooked his body down slightly to reach his head closer to my height, "You doin' alright?" he whispered.

I swallowed and nodded, my body conflicting between not wanting to worry anyone, but having no energy to fake my emotions anymore.

He spoke again, caution lacing his words, "Sammy gets... really bad anxiety sometimes," he started, and I turned my head to him slightly, indicating I was listening. "Like, really bad. "

He paused. "I don't know if that's what's going on here, but if you want to talk to someone, or need help, he's definitely the one to go to."

My head swam. Sam has anxiety? He was one of the most relaxed and carefree people I'd ever met.

"Of course we're all here to help, or talk, or whatever you need... but, just keep that in mind," he slipped back to the group silently, and I took a deep breath.

The boys didn't waste much more time shopping, and we were soon seated back inside the car, which now felt stuffy and uncomfortable. Everyone began chatting and Jake stuck his head to the front and leant his forearms on the back of Josh and my seats so that he and Josh could chat.

My eyes were locked on the road ahead of us, and I found myself frequently pressing my foot into the empty space at my feet, when I felt like Josh wasn't breaking quickly enough.

I felt incredibly bad doubting his driving skills, although the thrum of my heart and whizzing in my mind had me absolutely immobilised in fear.

"You alright over there?" someone asked, and I looked over to see Jake looking at me, and Josh sending me short glances, his eyes trained mostly on the road.

"Yes," I said tightly, to both of them, not knowing which had asked the question. "You know, you should really put a seatbelt on," I said to Jake, anxiously watching his positioning between us both.

He smiled, ruffling the hair on top of my head before landing his hand gently on my shoulder, "You sure you're okay? You seem a bit tense."

I swallowed and sent him my most convincing smile, bile rising in my throat each time I took my eyes off the road.

"Yes," I said, my voice cracking embarrassingly.

"Holy fuck," Josh spat, and I whipped my head to the road before us.

I braced my hands on the dashboard in front of me, as Josh slammed on his breaks, narrowly avoiding the red pickup truck which had decided to run his red light into the intersection. Jake nearly fell forward into my seat, and I heard Danny and Sam fall into the back of Josh and my seats.

Josh leaned out the window and flipped him off, yelling profanities as the pickup drove away carelessly.

"What the fuck!" Someone yelled.

While the rest of the car complained and cursed, I couldn't manage to tear my eyes from the road before us, where our cars would have collided, had Josh not stopped.

"Are you fuckin' serious?"

"What a fucking prick."

"I swear to God, it's always the pickup drivers, think they own the whole road."

Jake plopped back into his seat in the back, and I heard the boys click their seatbelts in, clearly shaken from the risk of being in an accident.

"Is everyone alright?" Josh asked, looking through the rear view at the three in the back. I didn't hear their responses. My hearing went fuzzy. I'd been submerged under a body of water.

I didn't know how much time had passed, but we were moving again. The car had gone quiet. Or maybe it hadn't, but I couldn't hear anything.

My stomach churned, and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, trying to focus on something in particular, but everything was happening. But nothing was happening too. My nails were digging into the soft flesh of my palm, and I forced myself to take a deep breath, filling my lungs with the oxygen I'd been depriving them of since the car had stopped.

My jaw was clenched so tight, I could imagine the sound of my teeth as they ground together, crumbling under each others weight and falling lose in my mouth.

I was going to be sick.

Josh was talking to me, but I couldn't hear what he was saying. I could see his mouth moving in my peripheral, and he even placed a hand on my thigh at one point. I knew he was trying to get my attention, but I couldn't pull my consciousness from that deep, dark place in my head.

I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe.

I glanced down at my stomach, at where I knew a scar lay, sheathed beneath clothing. I looked further to my thigh, where a metal rod sat, invisible under layers of muscle, blood and skin.

I could smell the ghost of blood. My chest rose and fell, yet it felt like the water I'd been submerged under was filling them up slowly.

My breathing shallowed immensely around the time we turned the corner onto our street.

I knew I was about to have a panic attack. I had had them before, but never with so many people around. I was dying to go inside and break down. Alone.

The moment the car stopped in front of my house, I swung the door open, muttering a thanks, and shutting it behind me before speeding up the path to my porch. My breaths came out quick and uncontrolled, and someone grabbed my arm behind me. I couldn't breathe.

I was going to be sick. I was going to be sick all over me and all over Josh and all over the pavement below us.

"Layla, what's going on?" Josh was in front of me, and I couldn't bear the look on his face. My hands landed on my head, tugging at the roots of my hair.

"Nothing, I-" My breath caught in my throat. Panicked, my eyes widened and I tried to take a breath in, but I couldn't. My lungs were full of lead. There wasn't any space left.

My hand shot to my throat, as my lungs begged me for air.

Disorientated and panicked, I stumbled backwards and my back hit something but I didn't feel it as I slid down onto the floor.

I couldn't breathe.

"Fuck," Josh spoke, dropping down to my level. He touched my hands, my face, my arms, trying his hardest to comfort me. "What can I do, Layla?"

I couldn't speak. I was going to pass out, my head going fuzzy with the lack of oxygen.

Then Josh was gone, and Sam was in front of me. Pain was radiating from my scalp as I ripped at the roots of my hair.

"Okay Layla, can you hear me?" Sam asked, his hands reaching up to my own and removing them from their assault on my hair.

I nodded, "Sa-Sam," I gasped, "I- I can't-"

"It's okay, you don't need to talk, you're finding it hard to breathe?" He asked.

I could smell blood again, and when I looked down at my hands I could see drops of it falling from my palm, crescent moon marks from my nails embedded in them. I nodded in response, feeling bile rise in my throat, the smell of blood clawing out my darkest memories. Memories I would give anything to forget.

"Can you try and take a deep breath out for me?" He asked. I was gasping for air now, trying my hardest to let air into my lungs. Sam watched me intently, "Stop trying to breathe in, you need to make space in your lungs for the air first."

My vision was going blurry with panic. I could only see Sam's face. I could smell blood. I couldn't hear anyone but him. Where had everyone gone? My chest felt tight, I couldn't breathe. My eyes were glued to my hands, blood dipping onto the wooden deck below.

"Layla. Look at me," Sam ordered, his hands on the sides of my face, "Concentrate."

His stern tone brought me back for a moment.

"Breathe out with me," he said, opening his mouth and letting a long deep breath out. I tried to do the same, regaining control of my lungs and huffing out a short breath, only to sharply inhale again, my lungs burning for air.

"Good. Again, just a bit longer this time," he instructed gently, repeating his actions, and as if an elastic band had been released from my windpipe, my shoulders dropped, and a heave of air left my lungs. I gasped in a breath, panting heavily at the function of my lungs, and collapsed forward into him, a sob falling from my lips. He wrapped me up in his arms tightly, and began to rock us back and forth gently on the floor.

"Breathe, that's it, just breathe," he whispered.

My hands shook as I held them close to my body. Taking a clearer look at the world now, I could tell that it was around sunset, and as the sun had set behind the trees, the air had dropped to a cooler chill.

Not much time passed when the pressure in my ears had released and I could hear the sound of both my own and Sam's breaths in the silence of the empty world we sat in.

I lifted my head from his chest, and he released his arm around me. I wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand, smiling sheepishly at him, and muttered a small apology. He only shook his head.

We both sat on the concrete floor, and I untucked my legs to sprawl them out before us, while Sam copied.

"Danny, um... Danny told me you would be able to help," I said quietly, "He said you get anxiety..."

He looked out to the street, as if deep in thought before speaking, "Yeah, it can get pretty bad sometimes."

I placed my hand on his shoulder, "I'm sorry. And thank you, so much for that, I don't- I don't know what I was going to do..." I said aimlessly.

He cleared his throat, and looked over at me, "It's okay," he smiled sweetly. "Did something cause it? Or..."

I sighed. It was my turn to look out at the street now. I could feel him looking at me for an answer, so I merely nodded my head, before letting it drop forward limply, exhausted with everything.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" He asked quietly. As much as I wanted to say no, I was tired of keeping it to myself. I needed to tell someone. The secret was eating me from the inside and I desperately wanted to get it off my chest.

So, I nodded quickly, "Yes please." I glanced over to him, "If you don't mind."

I could have guessed something was up with Layla the moment we got into the car. Her avoidant stares and fiddling hands served as an immediate warning that something was wrong.

Though, once we'd exited the car, she seemed okay again, her anxiety only fluctuating in spurs, rendering me useless in trying to help her.

I began to feel truely worried once we reached the grocery store. Never had I seen her so... absent.

She wasn't speaking, and I could see the tremor in her hands which she had balled into tight fists. It was common for her to tuck her hair behind her ears when she was nervous or anxious too, and I caught her reaching up to brush away hair that wasn't even there from her face.

Every fibre of my being wanted to hold her, help her, calm her. It broke me to see her like that, and all I could do was sit by uselessly and watch.

After the near accident at the intersection, I knew she was going to break. I tried to speak to her, distract her, take her attention away from whatever was going on in her head, yet her mind seemed trapped in a place very far away.

"Layla, what's going on?" I would ask, even going as far as to place my hand on her thigh, shaking gently to catch her attention. But it was to no avail.

"Please, talk to me, are you okay?" I asked. Luckily, the boys had taken notice to Laylas mood, and distracted themselves with talk of the band and upcoming concerts, allowing me to feebly try my hardest to help her without worrying about prying ears.

Frustrated, and trying my absolute hardest to get through to her, I worriedly glanced into the rear view mirror where I made eye contact with Jake, who looked back at me in understanding, having heard my efforts.

Soon, we rounded the corner to our street, and Layla burst from her seat before I had the chance to fully stop the car. I jumped out of my seat and ran after her as she sped down the path to her house. I could hear her heaving breaths from behind her, and my own anxiety increased tenfold.

I took hold of her hand, and she whipped around, eyes red and wide, and her chest was having in panic.

"Layla, what's going on?" I asked worriedly. She looked everywhere but at me, eyes darting to he road and car, and then to the floor. She grabbed the roots of her hair and held tightly, wild strands of it falling around her arms and face.

"Nothing, I-" Her breath caught.

She was having a panic attack. A bad one. I had been around while Sam went through this many times, but never one this bad. She struggled to take in a breath, focusing on inhaling and clearly neglecting a much needed exhale.

One of her hands shot to her throat and she stumbled back into the pillar of her porch steps, hitting her head painfully. Yet she didn't seem to notice, as she slid to the floor, gasping for air.

"Fuck," I whispered, dropping down to my knees before her. I reached out for her, touching her arms and face and, fuck, I didn't know what I was doing. She wasn't breathing and I feared she was going to pass out any moment.

"What can I do, Layla?" I asked frantically, her eyes going cloudy with exhaustion.

I grasped onto her shoulders firmly, "Please just breathe, Layla." But she wasn't listening. Panicked, I turned around to find Jake behind me, but I knew by the helpless look on his face, he wouldn't be much better at helping than I.

Sam lingered with Danny by the car, clearly hesitating to intrude.

"Sam!" I yelled desperately and he stepped in quickly, practically pushing me out of the road, and taking Layla's harsh hands away from her hair.

"Okay Layla, can you hear me?" He asked gently.

She nodded, trying to speak through gasps, "Sa-Sam, I- I can't-"

I was torn. My heart aching at the sight of her, broken and fragile. Blood was on her hands, I didn't know how, but there was. And then Sam was waving the group of us off, but I didn't want to leave. I couldn't leave her.

He turned around briefly, "Go, she needs space." Jake took me by the arm and led me to the car where our pile of groceries sat.

We picked them up in silence and walked them over to our house, unlocking the door and entering the warmth of the home. Mom was in the kitchen, cooking up dinner when we unloaded the groceries into the fridge and pantry.

I rushed to one of the living room windows, the one that didn't look into Laylas kitchen, but instead had a view of the front of her house, where I could see the figures of Sam and Layla sat on the pavement.

I sat on the couch and leaned my arms on its back, peering out and watching them. She seemed to have calmed down now, her body still as she looked out to the street apart from her mouth which was moving silently. Sam was doing the same, yet it looked like he was listening to whatever she had to say.

A pang of jealousy shot through me and I hated myself for it. But I couldn't help but wish she would talk to me too.

Jake and Danny saddled up to the couch next to me, and one of them patted me on the shoulder.

"Don't worry, she's alright," Jake said. But we both knew my sour mood surpassed worry for her, as I ached to know the root of her unhappiness.

Don't get me wrong, I felt like I was being torn from head to toe at the idea of her being upset, sad, worried, panicked or afraid. But her apparent inability to fully open up to me was killing me.

I knew she was hiding something. Something from her past. I had seen the scar on her stomach, and the way she frequently rubbed her thigh, wincing in pain. But she would always cover up, and mask her discomfort when she caught me staring, and I hated it.

My insides were screaming for her to open up. I wanted to know everything about her. I wanted to know every inch of her mind, her body, her soul.

And it broke me to know that she didn't trust me enough to do so.

After a painful hour of waiting around with Danny and Jake in the living room, I heard the front door open. All three of our heads whipped at the sound to watch as Sam stepped in with what I could only describe as a look of sympathy. Layla followed behind him timidly, her head cast down, but eyes peeking up around the room.

I stood up from my spot on the couch, desperate to do something. To talk to her. To hold her.

Mom stepped into the room at the sound of the door and smiled brightly when she saw Layla.

"Oh, hello Layla dear, are you joining us for dinner tonight?" she asked, slipping off a pair of oven gloves.

Layla nervously glanced up at Sam, whose eyes caught mine for a beat before he spoke, "Hey Mom, actually, could Layla stay the night? Her parents aren't home and-"

"Of course! I don't have to be the only woman in the house dealing with you lot," she remarked, and Layla smiled.

"Thank you," she said kindly.

Mom walked out of the room and back into the kitchen and the room went quiet.

"Sam, wanna head up and you can show me the new headset you got?" Danny asked, dragging Sam along with him up the stairs, and Jake stood too, scratching the back of his head.

"I've uh, got some stuff to do," he said plainly, walking out of the room, leaving Layla and I standing alone, staring at each other.

In a blink she was in my arms, both of us having rushed to close the space between us. She clung to me tightly, and I breathed in her scent, swaying on the spot. I sighed at the feeling of her in my arms again.

When she pulled away, I took her hands and looked down at the blood on them. Frowning, I narrowed my gaze on the bloody crescent shapes on her palm, where her nails had dug so harshly into her hands that she had broken skin.

"I can help you clean this up... If you'd like," I offered timidly, unsure of how fragile she still was and not wanting to spur on another panic attack.

"Yes please," she whispered.

Once in the bathroom, I wet a rag and wiped off the blood from her hands, including the dried drops that had ran down her forearms. She winced when I accidentally ran the rag across one of the fresh cuts.

"Sorry," I said, pulling back and looking at her.

She sighed deeply, staring at me in silence for a few moments, looking as if she was around to burst.

"I'm so sorry Josh. I don't know what happened I just- I don't know. I can usually handle them better it just- the car and, fuck it was all just a lot, but thank you for being there," she blurted out, her expression close to tears.

I reached a hand up to her face where streak of dried tears marked her cheeks, "Please don't apologise." She nodded.

"Are you okay now? Do you want to talk about it?" I asked, and when she shook her head 'no', I frowned.

"I'm okay now, but.. I kind of want to forget it happened."

"That doesn't sound very healthy," I commented, smirking, and she smiled at me.

"Do you think your mum will let me get away with not having dinner?" she asked and my frown returned.

"Why don't you want dinner?" I asked back.

"I just feel a little sick still. I usually lose my appetite when... that happens."

"Does it happen a lot?" I asked and she looked away, biting her lip gently.

"No, not a lot. But sometimes,” she said quietly, clearly done with this conversation. I guess that was all I was getting out of her tonight then.

"I'll talk to her. But it'd be best if you keep yourself busy while we eat. I don't think she could live with herself if you sat at the table with an empty plate," I told her.

She laughed a little, and then sighed, "I love your mum." A flicker of sadness crossed her face, before she regained her composure again, "I'll take a shower while you all eat then."

Dinner went by quickly, and I practically inhaled my plate to get away from the table as soon as I could. Mom wasn't happy with Laylas absence, but I assured her that it was for the best. I had given Layla some of my pyjamas for her to use for the night, and as soon as I heard the shower turn off, I was dying to see her.

When I cleaned up my dish and left the kitchen, Layla was setting up some sheets and pillows on the couch.

"What are you doing?" I asked her. She had tied her hair up and she stood in some red plaid pants with a green hoodie on top.

My God was she beautiful.

"Getting ready for bed?" She questioned, fluffing up the pillow and seating herself onto the couch atop the duvet cover.

"No, no I can't let you sleep out here. Sleep in my bed, I'll sleep here," I insisted.

"I don't mind," she smiled, slipping under the covers.

I dragged a hand down my face, very unhappy with these sleeping arrangements. "What about the guest room?" I smiled, proud to have solved the issue.

"Your mom told me it was being repainted," she commented.

"Fuck, you're right. Ronnies room?" I tried again.

"I already texted her, she'll be home in about thirty minutes. Don't worry, Josh. I'm fine, really." She gave me a reassuring smile, but I still wasn't happy.

I pursed my lips, "I'll come down here too then."

"What?" She asked, but I was already gone, grabbing a thick yoga mat from my room, and stripping the covers from my bed to bring down with me. Ignoring Layla's protests, I set up a makeshift bed on the floor beside the couch, slipping under and getting comfortable.

"Far out, fine. But when you wake up in the morning with a bad back, don't blame me," she commented, and I smiled, glad her witty personality was back.

Jake came in for a glass of water, bidding us both goodnight as he switched off the light.

Cloaked in darkness, I rolled over toward the couch, looking up to where Layla was already looking at me, "Good night, Layla," I whispered.

"Goodnight Josh."

Tag List ~ @wrldabomination @peaceoftheland @asacredthebread @jessiebronze2 @godly-sinsx

[1domegaverseficfest]

Omegaverse Fic Fest Weekly Recap

Hello beautiful people! This third week has already passed, with another batch of five beautiful fics revealed. Go check them out if you haven't yet, and please enjoy!

frightened by the bite, no harsher than the bark by @voulezloux

When you present as an alpha, there is an unspoken code you should adhere to. An alpha is a provider. They are the head of the family, they make sure there’s food on the table and things get done. An alpha is loyal to a fault for their mate. They are the ones who initiate a courtship, they are the ones who bite. An alpha is protective of what they feel is theirs. Whether it’s a baby doll given to them for a school project or, say, an international omega rockstar with very handsy fans, it is hardwired in them to protect, to shelter, to defend from harm. Harry, as the only alpha in his family of beta parents and omega sister, took this code a little too close to heart.

louis loves going to the barricade during his shows. if it’s because he’s got a bit (lot) of touch deprivation and is using it as an excuse to have his big alpha bodyguard, harry, touch him, well, that’s a secret he doesn’t need to tell.

You Are The Fever (What A Lovely Way To Burn!) by @yoursolosong

“You built this?” Louis whispered in a trembling voice. Harry's mind finally seemed to kick in and he rushed to explain, “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Lou. I know how weird this must look. I didn't mean to take advantage of your stuff behind your back, please, I am so sorry.” Harry was now a blubbering mess. He fucked up. He knew he fucked up. Real bad. It hadn't even been an hour since they made up and Harry fucked it all up. Again. Louis must think Harry’s a weirdo. God. “I will wash it all for you and give it back, I promise. We can both forget everything about-” He was cut by the sound of Louis growling. And oh shit. “You won't touch it,” Louis commanded. Or Harry is an alpha who realizes he’s also into alphas and wants to be submissive. He battles between his instincts and what he wants.

Lost But Won by @2tiedships2

“If you start out by talking about your weekend of golfing I swear to god I will stab you with a pen,” Louis said by way of greeting. There was a clunk on the floor and what sounded like shoes hitting the wall as Niall announced, “We have a guest. You might want to save stabbing me until you don’t have a witness.” “Well if they are obsessed with golf then…” Louis trailed off as he made his appearance in the living room. Harry’s mouth dried up. This was not the alpha that Niall had described. When Harry loses his passport after a weekend trip to see Niall, the inconvenience of being stranded in America becomes a little more bearable after meeting Louis. Or a lot more bearable.

The Capillaries In My Eyes Are Bursting by 5secoflarry

Two armoured palace guards stand there, speaking with the old, widowed beta. Harry watches curiously from the space in the back, ducking down a little in an attempt to hide. There have been whispers through the town of omegas being gathered and forced to the castle all week long - something about the King being ill - but Harry had thought they were only rumours….. OR Medieval times where King Louis is in a near death accident and enters a coma. The royal doctor says they have two weeks to find Louis’ true soulmate (omega) or he dies.

Scarred by @allwaswell16

As a male omega, Louis has learned to live with disappointment and rejection, but he dreams of the day he finds his soulmate. When Harry inadvertently rejects him as his soulmate, Harry has no idea he's doomed Louis to a slow, painful death. Pride doesn't keep Louis from telling Harry the truth. But love does.

Happy reading, kudosing, and commenting!

[supremework75]

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[defectivevillain]

teach me to be cruel

pairing: monty x reader [can be platonic or romantic]

reader’s pronouns: unspecified, but masc-intended

author’s note: ayyy hello, hello! my ass decided to watch a markiplier fnaf video in a spur of the moment decision and now i know things. what the fawk. anyway. i kinda love monty so... here’s this. it starts out with monty’s pov and then switches to the reader’s. enjoy!

cw: canon-typical violence, blood, unconsciousness/fainting.

The first time Monty notices you, he is quick to forget. Granted, remembering you is very low on his priority list. Kids are running between his legs and swinging their mini golf clubs around with vigor. He doesn’t have time to think about you, other than for a few moments. The passing glance and subsequent few seconds is all he gets. The conclusion Monty comes to is simple: you’re a new security guard working at the Plex. That’s all he cares to observe, before Danny is hitting at his arm and he has to pretend to fight back.

After that, he starts to see you more often. Monty likes to roam and it seems that you do, too. Well, you’re a security guard- that’s your entire job. He’ll run into you sometimes when he’s walking around, trying to get rid of some of the irritation boiling in his chest. You always meet his eyes and stare with an infuriatingly blank expression on your face. Somehow, that only serves to anger him even further. His walks around the Plex soon turn to be twice as long, once he starts encountering you on them. 

You don’t seem to be very afraid of him. At least, that’s the conclusion Monty has reached, after days of trying to intimidate you. He’s tried everything from looming over you ominously to sharpening his claws right near you. Nothing works. It’s as if you know that the anger is a front, a mask. 

You’re beginning to send him knowing looks and it pisses Monty off. You frequently have a strange expression on your face, as you glance at him from across the space. Monty grits his teeth and resists the urge to claw your face off. He instead resorts to throwing things at you. To his immediate annoyance, you have pretty quick reflexes and you usually dodge his projectiles. The first time he throws something, it’s just a paper cup. However, it soon shifts to Fizzy Faz cans, golf clubs, and anything that he can get his claws on. 

Despite the clear signals of danger, you don’t seem the least bit threatened. That eerie expression doesn’t fade from your face and Monty finds himself feeling angry nearly every minute of the day. 

Monty’s frustration comes to a head at closing time on a weekday. He’s had a rough day- some kids decided to climb him without warning him- and he’s looking forward to raging and destroying things in his room. Unfortunately, when he’s walking down from the stage and making his way through the Plex, he sees you. 

You stare at him with a strangely vacant expression. It’s uncharacteristic for you, but Monty can’t possibly focus on that. His hand twitches to grab the nearest projectile near him. His claws latch onto it. Monty knows this is far from a good coping mechanism- you’re a company employee and if he hurts you, he could face serious repercussions. For one, though, you always seem to dodge. Furthermore, Monty’s too angry to think logically. So, he flings the projectile at you. It hurtles towards you and he waits for you to duck, crouch, step to the side, or make any other movements to escape it. However, as the object gets closer, he begins to realize that you aren’t moving. Why aren’t you moving-?

You don’t dodge like you usually do. The projectile hits you and you go down. You go down and... you don’t get back up. Monty’s initial reaction is amusement and he laughs. You certainly don’t look to be awake, but he’s still wary. “Okay, I get it.” He scoffs, letting out a strangled laugh. “Get up now.” You still don’t move. The alligator blinks and looks down at you again, a strange feeling rising within him when he sees a bloody gash on your temple. It’s not very big, but humans are rather fragile. Monty growls in annoyance and throws you over his shoulder before walking back to his room. Thankfully, his bandmates all seem to be busy with their own things, so none of them notice the human thrown over his shoulder. 

Monty sets you down on the sofa and stares at you for a moment. He can’t help but feel a little guilty. The guilt is almost immediately overridden by anger, irritation, discomfort. Even despite the murky mess of emotions running through him, he knows what he needs to do. 

You wake up to find yourself staring up at bright green neon lights. They burn your eyes and you’re quick to push yourself up to a sitting position, if only to hide the lights from your vision. As you sit up, you take in upturned furniture, messy graffiti, and wreckage littering the floors. You slowly begin to realize where you are: Monty’s room. 

“Finally awake,” Monty remarks, nodding at you. You stare at him from across the room. He’s hovering awkwardly against the other wall. He seems awkward. For a moment, you wonder if he’s nervous. You then remember that Monty doesn’t typically let anyone into his room. By all accounts, you shouldn’t be here. The alligator must sense your thought process, because he glares at you as you’re trying to get up. “Sit down.” 

“Why am I here?” You decide to be honest. Monty snarls and crosses his arms over his chest. You can’t see his eyes from behind his sunglasses, so his posture is just about the only thing indicative of his emotions. The alligator inexplicably walks closer, until he’s towering over you from your position on the sofa. You stare up at him.

“You didn’t dodge,” Monty mutters. He sounds irritated, but he also sounds... apologetic? You’re not quite sure what he has to apologize for. Monty sighs and he lets his sunglasses fall a bit. His eyes flit across your face and you self-consciously bring a hand up to your face, only to feel a bandage stretching across your temple. 

“What happened?” You voice with a frown. You try to remember, but everything is fuzzy. It takes you a few seconds to recall the day’s events. He had thrown something at you- per usual- and then... “Oh.” You remark aloud. You didn’t react fast enough and got hit in the head. That explains why your head is pounding rather incessantly. 

“Idiot,” Monty remarks harshly, putting his sunglasses back on and turning his head as if averting his eyes. Again, you’re struck with the strange idea that he feels guilty. You raise an eyebrow at him, but he steadily refuses to make eye contact. You sigh. 

“Monty, it’s fine,” you say, which grabs his attention. The alligator turns to face you once more and you take a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “I mean, it’s not... but it is. I understand.”

“I know,” Monty hisses with a sudden venom. You recoil at the sudden influx of anger in his voice. There’s a slight hissing noise that his joints make when he reaches an arm out. Your heart races in your chest and you watch as his claws get closer and closer to your skin. You don’t think you did anything to aggravate him, but you’re not the best judge. “You always understand, don’t you?” His claw presses against the bandage on your temple and smooths it down. Monty tilts his sunglasses down and stares at you silently. 

Realization hits you all at once. The way he’s staring at you is reminiscent of the way you stared at him. You grimace at him, scrambling to come up with an explanation. “Monty, I-” You try to say, only to be interrupted. 

“Stop,” the alligator hisses. “Just... scram.” You thank Monty before leaving his room without hesitation. He needs some alone time, it seems. Meanwhile, you walk around the Plex for a little, only to realize that it’s time for your shift to end. As you clock out and walk out of the Plex, you can’t help but think that today’s shift wasn't so bad. You bring a hand up to the bandage on your forehead and you smile. 

[toastedclownery]

I’ve made some new Monkey Wrench headcanons.

Here they are:

1. While he doesn’t have a visible nose, Shrike does still have nostrils. They’re just very hard to spot.

2. Shrike is not good with kids at all. But he would never allow them to be hurt or distressed.

3. At the end of the third episode, Shrike stole half of the human trinkets that Scratch found.

“Nyeheheh! MINE! Let’s see. And it’s all a pile of worthless crap. How anticlimactic.”

4. When Scritch and Scratch had their ship checked out at the space station following the Mushroom Incident, an engineer at the station simply responded to their queries by saying “Frankly, it’s a miracle that this bucket of bolts is still intact.”

5. Sometimes Shrike gets strange looks in public from other aliens who don’t know what he is. Which is pretty much everyone. Other cephalopods are fascinated by him, as I said before.

6. Beebs once mistook a golf club for some sort of weapon. Shrike was quick to correct him. “No, this is something terrans used for sport. I think…”

7. Shrike’s tongue is also prehensile (as well as his toes). It’s at least 15 inches long.

8. Kara was the one who sent the pictures of Chester’s mutilated corpse to the news broadcasters in the first episode. She sent it anonymously and captioned it with “Fuck around and find out.”.

9. Kara refuses to go after children or the downtrodden.

10. Shrike refuses to let anyone else touch or wear his suit. “No! MINE!!!” *grabs suit and hisses like a creature*. Except Beebs, who he insists handles it carefully.

11. 62’s suit is damn near indestructible. It has built-in energy shields, a black box, an anti-AI counter intrusion defence and repulsion system, a built-in video camera, an emergency locator beacon, waterproofing, real-time meteorological scanning and data devices, underwater and zero gravity propulsion systems, built in scanning devices, self-repair and recharge capabilities, hazmat filter and containment mechanisms, a self-destruct mechanism and an escape hatch should it be activated or compromised.

As well as an internal dwelling space for 62 proper.

Killix was baffled when he first saw it “This thing is a goddamned fortress. It’s incredible. Who built this shit anyway?”

“I told you it was provided by my union, I had it made specially. My kind use them a lot when we have to. Uncle 47 worked on a prototype he made using an old Terran spacesuit.”

12. 62’s people consider the term “Yellowman” to be a slur. Shrike doesn’t like hearing it because it gives him flashbacks to a certain Terran web video he watched. “NOT THE YELLOWMAN!”. (It’s a little inside joke, there’s a local confectionery in my country called Yellowman, it’s like a honeycomb and toffee thing. And it refers to a creature from one of Mister Manticore’s early lost videos)

That’s all I’ve got for now.

What do you think?

1. Might just confuse them with pores

2. I'd love to study Shrike's behaviour with a child. ...That isn't indestructible

3. DON'T GET ME STARTED ON THAT TAPE MAN.

5. He is a strange critter...

7. Jel has entered the chat

8. THAT WOULD BE WILD. I think the images alone would speak for themselves

9. Good for her!

11. Imagine a love it or list it TV program where it's just these guys and their suits